In 1861 Abraham Lincoln was elected President of the United States, prompting, over the next few months, eleven of the thirty-four existing states to secede from the Union. War started. The Northerners called it The War of Southern Rebellion. Southerners called it The War of Northern Aggression.
President Lincoln's plans were straight forward - win the war, bring the South back into the Union, and rebuild the nation. He was an intelligent man; I am sure he knew that it was not going to be that simple, and I have no doubt that he understood the complications and nuances of the culture far better than you, I, or any historian can. Still, it's what he wanted. He wanted the country to heal. He wanted the South to be forgiven. He wanted Americans to be brothers again, without bitterness or resentment, without wanton punishment or humiliation. He instructed his general to extend bountiful grace in victory. Like the father of the young man who squandered his inheritance, he wanted to welcome his Southern sons back into the home with love and forgiveness.
He didn't get what he wanted, of course. Northerners were M - A - D - MAD. They felt like the South "started it" and they shouldn't get off easy at all. President Lincoln's death only fueled the anger that many Americans already felt toward their Southern "brothers." They did not grasp the forgiveness that the President had decided in his own heart.
I find myself in sympathy with some of those Americans - not in regard to the Civil War, but in my personal life. I find that I do not extend grace in victory, or grasp true forgiveness the way I sometimes think I have. I can't even say how many times I have been angry at Bella for some sort of disobedience or another, and after she apologizes or shows remorse, I say to her, "It's forgiven. It's okay, I'm not angry, let's move on."
So she does exactly what I say - she moves on. She accepts my forgiveness as a statement of fact, and she goes skipping about the house. (Often literally skipping about the house.) So what do I do? Do I smile and tell her I'm glad we're at peace again? Do I think what a delight it is to have such a happy girl? Do I say a quick prayer thanking God for helping me keep my relationship with my daughter strong?
Of course not. That would be far too sensible.
No, instead I stew. I look at her and think, "Why is she happy? Is she even sorry? Was that whole remorse thing just an act so we could be done and she could get what she wants? Doesn't she know she just messed up in a big way? Why isn't she acting SORRY?"
I realized why one day. It's because I was SUPPOSED to have forgiven her. Because I TOLD her she was forgiven. Because I assured her that I was not angry. And then I realized something else - I thought I was good at forgiving, but I was wrong.
I started imagining what my life would be like if, every time I messed up at something, God's voice was in my head going, "Keep saying you're sorry. Keep a sad look on your face. Stay quiet and act remorseful. Don't smile. Don't laugh. Don't forget that you just screwed up." I have never believed that's what God wants for us. I have never taught my daughter that God wants that for us. I have always told her that God wants to take our guilt from us, because our sins have been forgiven, and give us unending joy in its place.
But I realized that what I wanted was for her to keep feeling bad about what she had done so that I could feel vindicated. I didn't fully comprehend what real forgiveness meant - the kind of forgiveness that casts sin as far as East is from West, and that keeps no record of wrongs. The kind of forgiveness that would prompt a father to welcome his estranged son home with celebration, or a Father to offer his kingdom in return for something as simple as love.
In his second Inaugural Address, Abraham Lincoln said, "With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the Right as God gives us to see Right; let us strive on to finish the work we are in."
I'm striving on in the work of learning forgiveness. The Right kind.
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