I Needed God's Help to Forgive
It was about eleven
o’clock at night and the
phone rang. We had just
returned home from a
trip to the Holyland –
Israel. We were elated
at
having spent time in the
area where Jesus lived
His life, developed
His disciples, and
worked His ministry. For
us, it was truly a life-
changing experience. A
well-wisher on the phone
I thought, my son
calling to welcome us
home. But, it was not to
be.
My oldest daughter, in
west Texas, was calling
to inform me that my
second daughter had been
brutally murdered in her
home. She had been
bludgeoned to death with
a blunt object later
identified as a hammer.
My daughter had been
found in the front room
of her home by my
granddaughter. There was
no apparent motive.
My emotions were all
over the place. I had
spent a couple of years
in
combat and in my
lifetime had seen my
share of trauma, but not
an
unnatural death to a
family member, and I
never conceived a death
in
this manner. In typical
macho-man style, I
endured my feelings
while
my wife absorbed my
emotional roller-
coaster.
A few days later, two
men were apprehended
driving my daughter’s
stolen vehicle. They
were both arrested and
put in jail.
My daughter’s husband,
who works out-of-town,
returned to town and
was talking with police
investigators and the
assistant district
attorney. My oldest
daughter, who had
informed me of the
death, was
also in contact with the
police investigators. I,
too, spoke with the
investigators.
The following week, we
held a beautiful
memorial service with my
son
presenting a profoundly
spiritual and meaningful
eulogy. I added a
few comments at the end.
After the memorial
service I again
contacted the district
attorney’s
office to determine the
status of the
investigation. It seemed
to me
that the investigation
was moving painfully
slow. The assistant
district attorney
informed me that it was
a weak case. The only
“witness” was “one
criminal pointing his
finger at another
criminal.”
Although both men had
significant “rap
sheets,” at this point,
the
case probably would not
stand up in court. She
related, during the
investigation and
subsequent arrests, that
items were accumulated
for
DNA and other analysis
and were sent to the
police forensic
laboratory in Austin.
She was hoping the
results would provide
irrefutable proof as to
who killed my daughter.
Over a period of months,
during the investigative
process, I was
growing more and more
impatient. While I did
not “get mad at God” I
wondered about the pace
of the investigative and
legal process. I saw
issues in other Texas
towns moving with
seemingly faster action,
and
harsher penalties for
less severe crimes. But,
on reflection, I was
over-reacting which I
imagine is typical is
these situations. One
starts to doubt the very
people who are doing
their best to help. The
ones in whom we must
continue to have belief.
From the beginning, my
thoughts were seldom far
from the two
suspects. I longed that
they be taught “a
lesson.” I visualized
myself at a future
trial, and even mentally
prepared what I wanted
to
tell the judge and the
jury – about the years
that had been stolen
from my daughter, her
daughter, son, mother,
and the void in our
hearts that would last
for a lifetime. I
thought about the missed
opportunities to tell my
daughter how much I
loved her. Frequently
during the day, I
thought about these
things, sometimes
wanting to
scream out at my
feelings of the
injustice of it all. I
didn’t want
to burden my wife with
my thoughts and so, for
the most part, I kept
them bottled up inside.
Sometimes, I didn’t do a
very good job and
occasionally, all of a
sudden, the dam would
burst and my
unpleasantness would
come spilling out.
“Why is it taking so
long to accomplish the
DNA tests.” “Why, oh
why,
did this happen?” “What
can be done to
strengthen the case?”
“In the
past, if I had only done
this . . . or that . . .
would the situation
be different?” “Why is
the case moving so slow?
”
“Why, why, why,” I kept
asking myself.
Oh, yes, I prayed. I
prayed frequently, by
myself, with my wife,
with
my son. My lifegroup
prayed and was a source
of comfort and
community. Academically,
I knew what the bible
said about
forgiveness, but, I
wasn’t doing a very good
job at – “doing it.”
Getting it from my head
to my heart was the
obstacle. This went on
for months, and my mind
was cluttered with non-
productive thoughts.
One day I became aware
that I was rejecting the
message that kept
coming to me. These
destructive thoughts
were not doing me any
good,
mentally or physically.
I had to get rid of
them, but to do that
meant that I had to
forgive my daughters
killer. I wasn’t sure I
could do that, and I
knew I couldn’t do it
alone. I needed help – I
needed God’s help to
lift this burden from
me. For my very
survival,
I had to turn this over
to God.
You know, it’s a curious
thing about
“forgiveness.” Most
everyone
says they understand
“forgiveness,” but when
the need to forgive
comes their way – either
in the form of their
being forgiven, or
having to accept
forgiveness, - or their
having to forgive
someone
else; all too
frequently, it seems to
be a different story.
The forgiveness message
in the bible began to
clarify in my mind, but
I had to deliberate on
it for a while – you
know, to fully
internalize it, and in
so doing, the message
became even clearer, - I
had to forgive the man
suspected of killing my
daughter.
I took more time and I
prayed. I mean, really
prayed, like maybe I
hadn’t ever prayed
before. Others continued
to pray for me too.
During my prayer-time,
although he was over two
hundred miles away, I
forgave the man
suspected of killing my
daughter. I turned the
whole
issue over to God and
asked Him to carry out
His justice, in His
time.
It felt like almost
instantly that the
terrible burden I had
carried
around for months was
lifted from me. By my
forgiveness of him, the
ill feelings I felt
toward this man were
gone. It was as simple
as
that.
Our God is an awesome
God. When we put our
faith in Him, God’s
grace
becomes greater and more
powerful than any
problem we have. I thank
God for what He is and
for what He has done,
and continues to do, in
my life.
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