Davies
Member
Hello,
Last month, I was diagnosed with lung cancer, a shocking sight to look at the x-ray and see all these pretty blooms growing everywhere in your chest. Three years ago, I was diagnosed with throat cancer which has likely metastasized. I do fear the pain that may accompany my final days, but I've been struggling with something more profound than death, and that is forgiveness.
My father-in-law, a Christian, has graciously allowed my family to stay with them so that I may attend my appointments with the doctors I previously had. I have a home about 2 hours away which isn't conducive with radiation and chemotherapy. My father-in-law's graciousness comes with a few strings attached. He holds to being a Christian, but doesn't present and fruit of the Spirit that I can discern. In fact, he has wounded me in the moment of my life when I am the weakest, and the most sick. Known for his ability to be argumentative, his proclivity to display extreme selfishness, he has told me that my family is butting into his life. I'm thinking of the verse where my brother has wounded me more than any other.
What comes to mind is the verse that says, 'if a man comes to you seven times in a day asking for forgiveness, then you should forgive.' I don't trust this man enough to even have a normal conversation. It's like talking to a wall, except talking to the wall would be better, because the wall doesn't talk back with a monologue. I truly wonder if he has listened to anything I've ever had to say.
When I acknowledge to myself that what I have to say isn't really important, then the sting of not being listened to is abated. I have hard feelings. I have gone through the roller coaster of depending on God's forgiveness to hospitality that comes with such a sting, that I feel totally helpless, unable to do what God has commanded. He asked for forgiveness, but short conversations with him blind me to any sincerity of his request for forgiveness.
I'm scared of the root of bitterness. Perhaps the closer I sense I am to death, perhaps God will grant me the ability to forgive with joy.
- Davies
Last month, I was diagnosed with lung cancer, a shocking sight to look at the x-ray and see all these pretty blooms growing everywhere in your chest. Three years ago, I was diagnosed with throat cancer which has likely metastasized. I do fear the pain that may accompany my final days, but I've been struggling with something more profound than death, and that is forgiveness.
My father-in-law, a Christian, has graciously allowed my family to stay with them so that I may attend my appointments with the doctors I previously had. I have a home about 2 hours away which isn't conducive with radiation and chemotherapy. My father-in-law's graciousness comes with a few strings attached. He holds to being a Christian, but doesn't present and fruit of the Spirit that I can discern. In fact, he has wounded me in the moment of my life when I am the weakest, and the most sick. Known for his ability to be argumentative, his proclivity to display extreme selfishness, he has told me that my family is butting into his life. I'm thinking of the verse where my brother has wounded me more than any other.
What comes to mind is the verse that says, 'if a man comes to you seven times in a day asking for forgiveness, then you should forgive.' I don't trust this man enough to even have a normal conversation. It's like talking to a wall, except talking to the wall would be better, because the wall doesn't talk back with a monologue. I truly wonder if he has listened to anything I've ever had to say.
When I acknowledge to myself that what I have to say isn't really important, then the sting of not being listened to is abated. I have hard feelings. I have gone through the roller coaster of depending on God's forgiveness to hospitality that comes with such a sting, that I feel totally helpless, unable to do what God has commanded. He asked for forgiveness, but short conversations with him blind me to any sincerity of his request for forgiveness.
I'm scared of the root of bitterness. Perhaps the closer I sense I am to death, perhaps God will grant me the ability to forgive with joy.
- Davies
