The Poison of Unforgiveness

I’ve read that our brains integrate memories with our senses, which helps explain why certain smells can trigger vivid recollections from our past. I imagine that our memories are stronger when we experience something through multiple senses. For example, seeing the ocean is beautiful, but it’s nothing compared to hearing its roar and feeling its waves. Similarly, it was a conversation about seeing (and hearing!) a cockroach that sparked a deep discussion.

On the hospital ship, I was sitting in my room with my South African roommate. As we were talking, a giant cockroach scurried across the synthetic carpet, announcing its presence with a disturbing sound. You see, cockroaches in more tropical environments are large, a fact I didn’t know before moving to Liberia. This visceral experience led to an extended conversation about my roommate’s home and the various animals of South Africa. She had been spared from many dangerous encounters with animals, including hippos, lions, mamba snakes, sharks, and spiders.

But it was a spider bite that nearly killed her. A small, sore bump started on her shoulder. This bump quickly turned into a red line, and when she could barely walk, she went to the doctor, who prescribed antibiotics and painkillers. Within six weeks, her body purged the venom, and she recovered.

Apparently, the poison can destroy the flesh, leaving a hole in the body. After she shared this terrifying story, she simply said, “God taught me the most amazing lesson through that experience. Unforgiveness is like that poison—it can course through our bodies and destroy our spirit.”

My roommate had every reason to harbor unforgiveness. Her husband, a pastor, declared that he was done with the church and their marriage. Six months after their divorce was finalized, he remarried. And it was that destructive spider bite that helped her see the destructive nature of unforgiveness.

This reminds me of a story told by Corrie ten Boom, who survived a WWII concentration camp. After her miraculous release due to an administrative blunder, she traveled around the world as an evangelist. She writes:

It was a church service in Munich that I saw him, the former S.S. man who had stood guard at the shower room door in the processing center at Ravensbruck. He was the first of our actual jailers that I had seen since that time. And suddenly it was all there- the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, Betsie’s (her sister’s) pain-blanched face.

He came up to me as the church was emptying, beaming and bowing. “How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein.” He said, “To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away!”

His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often… the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side.

Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me forgive him.

I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again, I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness.

As I took his hand, the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder, along my arm and through my hand, a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.

And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself.

Wow. Jesus extends His forgiveness through us, giving us His love to offer to our enemies and those who have hurt us. May we flourish in our faith by keeping short accounts of wrongdoings.