you were born for leavin

here is the chorus from the new zac brown band song:

you're a ramblin man
and you ain't ever gonna change
you gotta gypsy soul to blame
and you were born for leavin

go listen. now. seriously. do it.

this morning was really great/really tough at newspring. the message centered around this question: why do bad things happen to good people? two stories were shared that made impressions on my heart. the first was about a man who i've blogged about before. zac was in his early thirties. he was an IT guy at newspring, married to his college sweetheart, father to three young, beautiful children. in late 2009 zac was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer, and he died in 2010. the next story was about a young firefighter, matthew, and a youth pastor, eric. matthew had worked a twenty-four hour shift on only about thirty minutes of sleep. he was driving home that morning and fell asleep at the wheel, hitting a car carrying eric's wife who was seven months pregnant with their son and their young daughter, faith. eric's wife and unborn son were killed, leaving the widowed father to raise his daughter alone. matthew and eric are now very close friends.

zac's story is a tragedy. it's unfathomable that a man who was serving the lord in the minstry, had a beautiful wife, happy kids, and a great life would develop cancer and only a year later be dead in his early thirties. his wife lost her love and best friend and life partner. his children lost their father. it's unthinkable. to hear zac's wife, mandie, talk about how she had seen the lord's goodness and faithfulness through her tragedy was so moving. she talked about how yes, the pain was very real and very near and very raw, but that jesus has been faithful to open doors and grant opportunities to give him glory through zac's death. she talked about how jesus has given her grace to face each second of her day, each life change, every ounce of grief.

matthew and eric's story was the once that really struck me. (note: i'm not by any means saying that either of these stories is more important than the other, but this second one really hit a sensitive spot in my heart.) matthew, essentially - though accidentally - murdered eric's wife and son. i cannot comprehend the weight of the loss that eric still experiences every day. what is uncanny to me is that eric was able to forgive matthew. and not only did he forgive him, but he is able to walk in that forgiveness and grace daily and call matthew one of his best friends. eric can look at matthew in the face - the man who's one wreckless decision took the life of his precious wife and child - and love him and hold him up and pray for him and count him a brother. that demonstration of forgiveness is simply mind-blowing to me.

i think this second story really struck a chord in me, because i know what it is to forgive. to have to fight everything in yourself, to have to work at it, to have to make the hard choice - to simply let it go and forgive. to decide not to harbor a grudge. one person ripped my life apart when i was in college. it took months of counseling and prayer and work to get to the place where i was even ready to CONSIDER forgiveness. finally, i was at a crossroads: either hold on to the hurt and hate and anger forever, or let it go and show the same grace that was shown to me. i still have to make the choice every day to forgive this person.

i've been so proud of myself for the way i handled the situation. for some reason, i've felt like my victory in showing mercy to this one person has excused me from showing mercy to others who may have only offended me in little ways here or there. it's like i thought, "phew. that's done. i don't have to do it again." wrong. the thing about it is, forgiveness isn't an option for the believer. it's not something we can choose to do only when we're ready or only if we feel like it. we don't get to decide who deserves forgiveness and who doesn't. forgiveness is a command. when i feel like it, and (more often) when i don't - for big hurts and the not so big hurts.

i got to thinking about all the people i was unintentionally denying forgiveness to. then i got to thinking about all the people who i've hurt, both knowingly and unknowingly. i hope that the people i have hurt have been able to forgive me. finally, i got to thinking about how jesus forgives me. it really doesn't make any sense. how then can i, in my own desperate need for second-to-second forgiveness, deny anyone forgiveness? no one hurt inflicted by another person can compare to the wrong of sinning against a holy god.

my pride is so sickening.

here's my last thought on this (for now): is forgiveness really forgiveness until you've extended it? this is what i'm wrestling with right now. i know i need to forgive someone. this person asked me to forgive them. and i'm working at it. i'm choosing to. i'm having to make that choice every day. is it easy for me to say this only because i haven't had to go to the person and say to them, "i forgive you"? would that change things? would it make the reality and the weight of forgiveness more real to me to go to the person and tell them? i don't know. god tell his people they are forgiven, even if they DON'T ask for it. god has forgiven all of my sin: past, present, and future - sins i haven't committed - sins i haven't asked forgiveness for yet. forgiveness is who he is - it's what he does. if i'm called to be like my heavenly father, shouldn't i be about forgiveness in the same way - already willing to forgive before the wrong is done?

so much to think about.

i lied. THIS is my last thought: it's not the why. why things happen is not important. doesn't matter why. a sovereign god allowed it. the important things are the what and the how. what do we do with what has happened to us, and how do we give god glory through it?

ps: please stop me if my blog ever ceases to be my own thoughts and reflections on life, scripture, and god's work in my life. if this blog should become a place where i simply regurgitate information i have been given, please, PLEASE, ask me to stop writing.