I've been in a few plays over the years. I've played roles ranging from crotchety old lady, to Jane Austen heroine, to bored father (Yes, I did say father. That's not a typo.) However, those were the anomalies. Mostly, especially in most recent productions, I have played the frail-yet-selfless forgiver. This character endures dark, frightful, inhumane circumstances, yet at the end, is able to turn to those who caused those circumstances and respond to them in grace, forgiveness, and love.
The nameless prisoner was tortured day after day to give up the names of her compatriots, but instead of hating her captor and torturer, she chose to see him as he surely once was: a beautiful, innocent child. She told him of Saul, a man who tortured and killed countless Christians in the first century, but how his life was touched by the love of Christ, changing him into one of the greatest apostles in history. By trying to understand her torturer, she showed him grace.
Mary's husband had been killed. She and her small daughter were forced to flee with a small group of Christians to an abandoned church in the mountains. While there, her daughter ate tainted food, contracted botulism, and died. Their group was discovered by government agents, and one of her dearest friends had just been shot because she refused to deny her faith. Instead of running, instead of screaming and crying and fighting, Mary calmly accepted her death, urging her friends to look forward to glory rather than be consumed by the present injustice.
Edgar was exiled, forced to flee for his life. He had been betrayed by his brother and was now pursued by his father. The king was corrupt and insane. Instead of escaping the country, Edgar stayed close by and feigned madness in order to stay close to the king and his father so that he might protect them as they became more and more vulnerable. He forgave his father for the misunderstanding and kept him from committing suicide. Even when Edgar did exact revenge on his brother for betraying him and his attempt to usurp the throne, his brother had a change of heart at the last, and Edgar responded by calling him, "Worthy Prince." He exacted justice, but never gave in to bitterness.
Helen Burns, only eleven years old, lived much of her life away from her loving family in a harsh school for girls. The schoolmasters were cruel, making the girls suffer humiliation, hunger, and psychological and physical abuse. She quietly defied them by befriending a lonely girl named Jane Eyre, whom the girls had been ordered not to speak to. Soon however, Helen became gravely ill. As Jane sat by her deathbed, Helen charged Jane to follow the example given by Jesus to bless those who curse you, forgive the unforgivable, and love the loveless.
Betsie Ten Boom, a Dutch woman in her late sixties, died slowly of illness and abuse in the Nazi concentration camp, Ravensbruck. She was sent there for being suspected of harboring Jews in her home during the Nazi occupation of Haarlem. Her entire life was devoted to serving others, pouring out her very soul to show the love of Christ to every single person she came in contact with. In her days at Ravensbruck, she prayed with and read the Bible to the women in the barracks. She strengthened her sister, Corrie, that they must "give thanks, even for the fleas" that infested their bunks. It turned out that the Nazi guards would not enter their barracks because of the fleas, which afforded Betsie and Corrie the opportunity to spread Christ's message of love and hope to the fellow prisoners. As she is dying in the arms of her sister, after a horrendous beating by the Nazi guard, Lieutenant Metzler, Betsie urges her sister to "care for and love them - the guards, the soldiers." Her love extended even to those that everyone had just reason to abhor.
And I was asked to portray all these people. Over and over again, directors saw something in me that they believed could spread these messages. I would like to say it's because I'm like these people, that there's something in me that would be able to behave like them in those situations. But I'm not. The characters I get type-cast as are merely visions of the person I wish I was. But it has been an honor to tell their stories, and the opportunity to get inside their heads has truly changed my life.
One common theme that I've discovered, is that all these characters have taught me a great deal about forgiveness.
1. "I forgive you" does not mean the same thing as "It's okay".
Forgiving someone does not mean dismissing or ignoring the injustice done. What it does mean, is that you are no longer letting the injustice have a hold on you. What's done is done, and you are choosing to move forward. Forgiveness acknowledges that something went wrong, but that you refuse to let more wrong come from yourself by injuring that person back or harboring bitterness.
2. Forgiveness isn't the easy way.
It is easy to hate someone who has injured you. It feels good. That sense of vindication you get when you spew venom about that person to those around you, and you see them nod their heads in agreement - it feels really good. They made you suffer, so you delight in their suffering, or at least going over and over again in your head the reasons why they should suffer. I admit with shame that it is very easy for me to fall into this pattern. But that's not what forgiveness is. Let's say the wrong that the person did to you is the initial wound. Feelings of hatred, bitterness, and resentment, acts of spite, harsh words (to them or to your friends), and revenge are the shrapnel. If left in the wound, the shrapnel cuts deeper into your flesh, festers, gets infected, and spreads farther and farther until it consumes you. Forgiveness is the act of removing that shrapnel. And it's by no means easy. It hurts - god, does it hurt. But it hurts because it's starting to heal.
3. Learn to forget.
I struggle particularly with the "forget" half of "forgive and forget." I've always had a fantastic memory. My brothers hated playing those matching games with me when we were little because I always won, and usually quickly. I remember random details about people and random events and conversations in pretty vivid detail. My family makes fun of me, saying that I can quote an entire movie as long as I've seen it two times. It's an exaggeration, but really, not by that much.
I remember things, and I don't let go of them. I remember how someone hurt me in vivid detail, and all the feelings of the initial moment come flooding back to me. The wounds re-open, and the last thing I want to do is forgive the person for hurting me like that over and over again. What I need to do is resign those feelings, those memories, and move forward. Forgiveness does not live in the past, it lives in the present, in what positive things you can do now.
4. You need to forgive yourself.
This is another huge area of struggle for me, and again, has been my whole life. I cannot stand the thought of disappointing people, or especially God, and so I destroy myself any time I do. I should have been better, I should be better, and because I'm not, I'm a failure and don't deserve forgiveness, and especially not love.
If I'm to try to forgive and love those around me, how can I possibly do so if I refuse to do the same for myself? If I can't let go of anything I've done, how can I let go of others' mistakes? You must allow yourself to be forgiven, first by accepting the forgiveness of those you've failed or hurt, and second by forgiving yourself and allowing yourself to let go of it.
5. Forgive the way Christ forgave you.
There are so many beautiful examples of Christ's forgiveness. His entire life was devoted to the purpose. It is beautifully summed up in Romans 5:7-8, "Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." In our sin, in our hatred of him, we injure God's heart beyond what we can fathom. But his love is so great that he chooses to die for us - to forgive us - while we are in the midst of spitting at his very name. If we have been forgiven of something so great as this, how can we stand by and withhold our forgiveness of others? And yet I consistently find myself acting as the pardoned debtor who throws a man in prison over a few denarii.
6. Forgiveness is a choice.
It is up to you to choose how to react to injustice and injury. You can respond by injuring them back, or you can choose to end the vicious cycle. Forgiveness is not just a choice you make at the moment of injury either. It is a daily choice. When I talk with my friends, I can choose to berate and complain about those who have hurt me, or I can choose to pray for them instead. When I interact with those who have hurt me, I can make sure they know exactly how angry I am, or I can reach out to them and see what I can do to help them, even if that means keeping my distance or getting uncomfortably close. When my mind wanders, I can choose to dwell on my pain, on fantasies of vindication, or I can choose to let it go, and instead focus on what I can do right now to make things better. Forgiveness does not live in the past, and neither should I. Forgiveness is about moving forward past the darkness to something beautiful.
7. "Love is greater."
The only possible way for this kind of forgiveness to take shape is through love. Love of our forgiven selves, love of the God and the people who have forgiven us, and love toward the people we have been hurt by. Without love, it is impossible to move past injustice, let go of pain, and show mercy and grace. We are called to be conduits of Christ's unfailing and unending love in this world, and the most important time for us to do that is when it's hardest.
Betsie Ten Boom knew this. She showed this kind of love every day of her life. She also knew she wouldn't be around to show it much longer. So, in her final moments in her sister's arms, she urged Corrie to "teach them that there is no pit so deep that He is not deeper still. Love is greater, Corrie. We must teach them that love is greater."
By no means have I perfected how to truly forgive and love people. I fail constantly. It was hard writing this blog, because it reminds me just how much I still have to work on. But I don't want to give up. I think I get type-cast for a reason. Sure, my real self may be a poor reflection of those I'm charged to portray, but they've all taught me something, and they've all challenged me to reach for something better - to try and be more like them. I hope that I will be able to face the Lieutenant Metzlers of my life, release them, and say, "Yes. Love is greater."
