I’ve been surrounded by a lot of conflict lately.

Between friends.

Between me and friends - my fault.

Between me and friends - their fault (tons of these ;-)).

In my home - always my fault (are you reading this, honey?).

I read a column today (HT: Route 5:9) by Andree Seu called “The Thing We Don’t Do - Forgiveness is hard work.”

While reading the column, I was convicted 71 times, give or take. There is something in here that pertains to every conflict in which I’ve been involved and to every ounce of forgiveness I’ve failed to grant. It’s almost like I was “meant to read it.” Weird.

The column is only available to paid subcribers to World Magazine. In case you aren’t, I’ll share some highlights. A lot of them.

I asked a few people if they’d ever forgiven anyone, and what it felt like. They gave me answers so pious I knew they’d never done it. …I can tell you there is nothing exalted about this feeling, this one-two punch to the gut that comes when you even contemplate forgiving, which is as far as I’ve come.

“One-two punch.”? She’s been talking to Matt

Keeping one’s mouth shut is commendable, and more than I have managed in the past… …But I am reminded that “Absolom spoke to Amnon neither good nor bad” for two whole years after the rape of his sister Tamar, and it ate him alive till in the end he killed the man.

To avoid any weird, uncomfortable feelings, during those two years Absolom attended a different Sunday School class than Amnon.

O my brothers, you cannot imagine the exquisite verbal retaliations I have hatched in the idle hours, each more perfect than the last: theologically impeccable, legalistically faultless, poisoned prose polished to a lethal point. Must I now relinquish these? Must I kill the little darlings? Are they not to see the light of day? Such a waste.

…after all that time spent formulating the perfect response.

Forgiveness is a brutal mathematical transaction done with fully engaged faculties. It’s my pain instead of yours. I eat the debt. I absorb the misery I wanted to dish out on you, and you go scot-free. Beware the forgiveness that is tendered soon after injury; be suspicious. Real forgiveness needs a time lag, for it is wrought in private agony before it ever comes to public amnesty. All true acts of courage are thus done in secret.

But… then how will folks know what a selfless, holy thing I’ve done?

And now the unthinkable: not only to forgive but seek the good. Nature abhors a vacuum and Jesus admits of no middle ground between hate and love. Pray for him.

It just keeps getting better.

When you were a child you thought like a child, that pain was something to flee. Now in the adulthood of faith, suck up your hundred denarii, because someone took your ten thousand talents upon Himself (Matthew 18).

This is a very sobering read and, if nothing else, it totally backs up what I’ve mentioned to a few folks lately. Being a Christian takes every ounce of fun out of being offended by people.