FORGIVENESS
for·give [fer-giv]
–verb (used with object)
1. to grant pardon for or remission of (an offense, debt, etc.); absolve.
2. to give up all claim on account of; remit (a debt, obligation, etc.).
3. to grant pardon to (a person).
4. to cease to feel resentment against: to forgive one’s enemies.
5. to cancel an indebtedness or liability of: to forgive the interest owed on a loan.
–verb (used without object)
6. to pardon an offense or an offender.
We Christ followers talk about forgiveness a lot. We tell each other we NEED to do it or it will just eat us up inside. We hear stories of other people forgiving other people and blessings pouring in because of it. But when it comes to OUR lives and what it means to forgive, that’s when the word “forgive” becomes an impossible action.
When I did the unforgivable, Brian graciously forgave me. Not immediately… but after he processed what it really meant to forgive… he CHOSE to. He didn’t HAVE to… but he CHOSE to. Many people forgave me. Brian’s family, my sisters, my Dad, our friends. They CHOSE grace over judgment on me.
All except one.
My mother hasn’t forgiven me. I doubt she ever will.
I’ve caused her great embarrassment. Children are an extension of the parent and I am one seriously tangled mess of an extension cord. I’m no longer a viable showpiece because I’ve revealed the “wizard of oz” behind the curtain… and the reality is I’m nothing great. I’ve failed her. And that’s all I know because she hasn’t spoken to me since August 2009.
But here’s where I’m gonna get real with you. I’m gonna show my ugly and I’ll be honest… I’m a little scared right now. But, I’m gonna do it anyway (please be gentle).
I have NO right to ask for her forgiveness. I don’t have ANY place to receive it even if it was offered…
… because I haven’t forgiven her either.
Most of my counseling time is spent working through my childhood and how that’s manifested it’s way into my adulthood, relationship with Brian, and relationship with my children. 75% of my therapy time is spent digging up painful memories of how my mother treated me, looking at it, mourning it, and letting it go.
I’m not blaming my mother OR my past for my adult actions. However, how can you really change if you’ve never gone back to look at the problem face-to-face? I’ve NEVER grieved anything or allowed myself to FEEL. And I don’t want to live the rest of my life like that.
In Matthew 26:28, Jesus says:
“This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”
So… here’s the hard part. Forgiveness isn’t just for me. Forgiveness isn’t just for those who forgive me. Forgiveness is for EVERYONE who chooses Him. Forgiveness is for those who haven’t or will not forgive me. Not forgiving my mother is like drinking poison and waiting for HER to die. So, I need to forgive…
… every disapproving look, sneer, grunt, glare.
… every time I was called ugly, fat, stupid, “the devil”.
… every slap in the face & body-slam into the walls.
… every weeklong silent treatment.
… EVERY wrong ever committed against the childhood me.
… not because I “have” to… but because I’ve been FORGIVEN by the Greatest. And so has she.
So, why do I still have the bottle of poison at my lips?
Our Story (Part Three)
Guest posted by: Brian Clayville
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The very thought of this was overwhelmingly humiliating for both of us. Jenni had just conquered several years worth of fear by telling me her most painful secret and now a week later, I was asking her to expose this ugliness to all those closest to us. She shut down in fear…
… but not for long.
Within 24 hours, Jenni did as I asked. Our Pastor and his wife, Matt & Cindy, were at our house the next night. Jenni shared her story boldly, even though she knew she could lose her job as the Worship Pastor at Church at Bethany. This was a big deal because we really needed this income. Our fear was quickly quieted and Jenni’s willingness to be honest was embraced. Matt and Cindy were gracious, forgiving and supportive. Not only did they choose to keep Jenni on staff, but they really helped us in many ways through our healing process. I can’t say many people in church leadership are like this.
Over the next few days, Jenni called our closest friends… the ones she had lied to and confessed her story. One of her first calls was to the wife of the man she had the affair with. That’s a whole different story, but I can tell you that she forgave Jenni and they are actively working through an amazing restoration in their friendship. The reaction from the rest of our friends and family were varied but most were very forgiving and full of grace. I was and still am so proud of her for being willing to risk so much and to be so vulnerable.
The months following didn’t get any easier. I guess you can say I was going through the grieving process. I pulled back from life. Several times, I wanted to give up on our marriage and just escape the pain. Maybe a handful of people checked in on me or called to encourage me… but this was rare. I’m not saying this is their fault, but the reality is people didn’t know what to do or what to say, so they just did nothing. Jenni and I had counseling but that was only an hour every week.
I felt abandoned.
The worst part was how distant I felt from God. I withdrew from Him just as I did from most people in my life. He felt so distant and irrelevant to me that I could not bring myself to pray or seek him with any consistency.
Finally, in mid-August, I knew it was time to stop focusing on my pain. It was MY turn to heal. It was time to come out of this desert. I asked God to use my horrible reality for his Glory. It was not clear to me what that meant or how I would do it, but I MADE that decision.
Jenni arranged a last minute trip to my parents’ house in La Grande. We spent a lot of time praying, being quiet and just BEING together. I found God again… right where I had left him. This weekend away became an instrumental time for our marriage. We were healing. Not just the pretend-stuff-it-under-the-rug “healing”… but we were falling in love again. Me and God… and me and Jenni.
We came home with a new hope, a new goal and a new future. We were like newlyweds. Everything was actually good, which was amazing because there was a time when I truly wondered if anything would ever be “good” again. My marriage was… no… is GREAT!
This was when God decided to do as I had asked – use my horrible reality for His Glory. In my quiet time with God, He spoke:
“It’s time for you to share your story…”
“WHAT??? Jen will NEVER go with this! She had a hard enough time telling those closest to us!” I argued back. But God was going before us in a way I had never imagined.
Jenni came home from her staff meeting that day and said, “Matt wants us to share our story at church… and I think it’s time.”
We knew this was God ordained. We knew it was time to finally obey God completely with our marriage. We were scared spitless. EVERYONE was going to know. EVERYONE was going to judge us… judge Jenni…
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Read Our Story in order here:
For The Broken
Brian and I have gone public with our story, but we realize that not everyone likes to sit and listen to a podcast. So, we’ve decided to just write it down here.
We’re writing it for our records… for our healing… but we’re also writing it for you.
We don’t claim to be marriage counselors or relationship experts by any means. Heck, we’re still figuring out new things about each other on a daily basis. But we want to do this… because while we were in the midst of our darkest moments, the moments we thought our marriage was not going to make it, we felt completely alone. However, even though we FELT that way… the truth is, we weren’t.
Our hope is that where-ever YOU may be, even though you FEEL like it, you will know are NOT alone.
“Our Story” series will begin on Tuesday. We hope you will join us in praying:
- ** for the many out there who are still trapped in darkness.
- ** for the ones who are listening to the lie that they can never be forgiven.
- ** for the ones who think they are broken beyond repair.
- ** for the ones who really believe they are worthless.
- ** for the ones who have given up hope.
Here we are… a month after and really, we’re just starting to realize our story has very little to do with us… and much more to do with WHO God is in all of this. Jesus didn’t come for the well… he came for the broken.
He came for me…
…and he came for YOU.
He’s HERE for you.
I’m Mourning
I am in mourning. It’s a dark place.
I’m mourning:
… the loss of my old marriage. :: When Brian and I decided to divorce our old marriage, we didn’t just divorce the bad, the affair, and the breakdown. Because so many of our good memories were mixed in with the timing of the affair, we had to knowingly divorce ALL the memories… including all the good ones. Everything was tainted.
… the loss of my old integrity. :: Before the affair, I can honestly say I really lived life as boldly as I could above reproach. People trusted me. People sought out my advice. The act of the affair destroyed ALL of that in one fell swoop. I’m starting over BELOW ground zero now.
… the loss of good friends. :: It’s always been easier for me to befriend guys than girls. I’ve only recently (in the last 4 years) connected with more women… but I could safely say that “my ladies” were less than 50% of my friend influence. Post-affair, I have realized I CAN NOT have close friendships with guys… so THAT 50% PLUS of my friendships must change… HAVE changed. I have therefore “lost” more than 50% of my friends.
But TODAY is a new day.
Today:
… I get to fall in love with Brian again. :: My new marriage to the same man has introduced a love I have never known before. I get to tell him, every day, that I choose him. I get to experience REAL life with him, unbound from the chains of my past secrets. I get to be loved to a degree I have never known till now.
… I get to live a life of TRUE Restoration. :: The integrity I had before was a false sense of self. It became my obsession… another thing I could “control”. It made my “fall” a much scarier, longer drop from grace. Restoration, however, has NOTHING to do with me and EVERYTHING to do with Jesus. I don’t get to control this… so I can’t mess this one up.
… I get to invest into a deeper love with my girlfriends. :: Not all girls are mean. In fact, I have found the women of my life to be quite wise, truth speaking and loyal. Irreplaceable, actually. I get to spend 50% more of my time discovering a REAL community.
Though I’m still in mourning… today is a new day. Today, I get to kick Satan in the jingles and say, “YOU DON’T GET TO WRITE MY STORY!” I know that mourning these losses WILL propel me forward to the new life I have awaiting me… a better life. Today, I choose to live in the light. And with that… I say…
“Good Morning!”
The light of the morning will not arrive until the dark of the night passes.
What are YOU trading in this morning?
Running
This is the post I guestblogged over at Lynse’s portion of internet real estate a couple of days ago. In case you didn’t see it…
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I’ve been running…
Since I was seven years old, I’ve been running.
When my parents divorced… I ran.
When I couldn’t find my significance… I ran.
When I was building my career and life… I ran.
You see, it wasn’t just the bad things I ran from. I had no idea how to process or deal with life in a healthy way. I didn’t understand that running from the issue didn’t resolve or change the issue… it only “misplaced” me. When anything ever happened to me, good OR bad, I ran.
Each time I ran, I just found myself more… lost.
This practice of running quickly trained me to stuff my feelings, hide my secrets and eventually, I was such a good runner, I ran STRAIGHT into another man’s arms.
“BE STILL AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD.”
“Still” scares me.
“Still” means I have to FACE my problems.
“Still” means I have to admit my mistakes.
“Still” means I don’t get to be all jacked-up and hopeless anymore.
“Still” means I NEED grace.
But you know what?…
“Still” also means I get to breathe.
“Still” gave me time to heal my hurts.
“Still” means that healing was just around the corner.
“Still” gave me a second chance.
“Still” means resolution and restoration.
“STILL” was exactly what I needed.
I stopped running and let others catch up with me. I let others carry me (which to be completely honest was and IS very uncomfortable for me, but needed), and more importantly… when I stopped, I realized I had no reason for running.
I spent 23 years running… non-stop. I was tired.
My Pool (Part Four)
After almost two years, the affair ended… as all do in one way or another. And there I was: alone with my thoughts.. I had been treading for almost 30 years in very murky, polluted waters.
All I ever wanted was to matter.
I wanted to be LOVED by someone…
I wanted to be GREAT at something…
I wanted to be REMEMBERED when I was gone…
And the truth was… I had MADE it. By the age of 30 I had attained everything I ever set out to acquire. So why did I feel like such a nobody?
My relationship with God was starting to pick up again. This was good except He wanted to heal me. The NERVE, right? He was starting to reveal root issues I had buried so deeply, I wasn’t even aware they existed. These were things I wasn’t ready to face.
My life was a swimming pool FULL of trash. God was helping me bring all of my rubbish to the surface, but it was up to me whether I wanted to use my net to fish it out. I knew if I were to grab the net, I would have to really look at the trash before I could destroy it once and for all. It was much easier to just push everything back down and just never swim in the pool.
On the outside, my life still looked fine. I accepted a new position at Church at Bethany as the Worship Pastor. Brian and I got pregnant and birthed another healthy little boy, Paxton. Chance started his first year of preschool. I was happy… but I should have been ecstatic about my life. My secrets were eating me alive. I was missing out on my OWN life and couldn’t recognize it.
You see… my pool wasn’t only for me. Brian, Chance, Paxton, our family, and all our friends were gathered around it… just waiting for me to give them the “ok” to jump in and play. And man, did they want to play… it’s always a hot day around here. But my pool was polluted and not safe for anyone to swim in.
It was time to clean my pool.
I told Brian about my affair, and the following 5 months were beyond painful. My pool had been stirred and now the waters looked murkier. I didn’t know if we were going to make it. By the looks of it, this mess was getting worse. This was NOT what I had signed up for.
As I was “fishing”, I began to get really angry. I noticed that though most of the trash was tossed in by ME, a LOT of it was from other people. However, I had a choice: to place blame and wait for “them” to come clean up their litter, or just take ownership and clean the parts that affected me. I was mourning some deep, deep issues for the first time. It hurt… but it was good..
While God was re-surfacing all my trash, and I was obediently fishing each and every item out one-by-one… my friends and loved ones had put a brand new filter in my pool. I didn’t know it at the time, but the friends and family we had told were intercessing on our behalf. They were helping me clean my pool without me even asking.
** Thank you, my dear friends. Even now, as I write this, I sit… tearfully and humbly thankful to each and every one of you. Thank you. **
My focus was tightly wrapped up in the rubbish I was taking out. I mourned each and every re-surfaced piece of trash I once treasured. I was permanently destroying the remnants of my garbage in a huge bonfire… when one day, Brian and I looked in and noticed the most amazing sight. Not only were the waters clean, but the once cluttered pool bottom was now cleared of ALL debris. And there stood Jesus, inviting us in with some floaty recliners and margaritas, complete with those cute little drink umbrellas made by underaged and underpaid third world children (you still there? just checkin’ to see if you’re still reading).
Friends… all of us have a pool. And if we don’t tend to it, it will become polluted and dirty, rendering it completely useless. I also want to reiterate that I didn’t do this alone. Christ was there, Brian was there, and friends were there.
This can’t happen overnight. It’s really grueling work that seems hopeless and never-ending at times. You don’t have to do it alone… but to get help, you need to be willing to show others how dirty your pool really is. I, for one, promise to help get you a filter for your pool if you tell me you need one.
I’m not saying my pool will be clean forever. Occasionally, trash will drift in and the water will get stagnant. I know Brian and I will need to drain the pool at times in our next 70+ years together and put fresh water in… but it sure is a lot easier to upkeep when we don’t let it build up.
What’s in your pool?
Isn’t it time to go swimming with all your loved ones?
I think so, friends… I think so.
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To read the whole series:
Part One: In My Daddy’s Lap
Part Two: Floater
Part Three: My Empire
Floater (Part Two)
My parents’ divorce was finalized before I started Middle School.
My Mother sold our house in Seattle and bought a new one in Bellevue (45 minute distance between these two homes). She said the schools were better there so that’s why we were moving.
The next seven years consisted of my Mother transferring me through three different schools: public, private, then public again. Each time, I saw the same thing: groups of friends that have been friends since childhood. I was always the “new” girl and never found “my group”. I wouldn’t say I didn’t have friends… I actually had many friends… but no close friends.
I was a floater…
You see, growing up wasn’t easy for me. We weren’t “well-to-do” but my Mother ALWAYS provided clean clothes, shelter and plenty of food. We NEVER missed a meal and we even got to go on vacations every now and then. But that’s not all a kid needs for healthy growth.
My Mother was way too tapped out to spend quality time with any of us. She was tired all the time, never getting any breaks. She was gone by the time we got up in the morning for school (and I had cheer practice at zero period = 6:30am) and was home after 6pm.
But I had a lot of questions… overwhelming uncertainties. Lots of changes happen for a girl between the ages of 12 and 18. I needed my Mom to speak God’s purpose into me. I needed to hear that even my dreams were limitless. I needed to see that there was grace in mistakes and that mistakes are needed to help us grow. I wanted to be pretty… to be pursued… I needed to matter to someone. I needed to be significant.
However, I didn’t find any of this with my Mother.
Every question I ever asked would be quickly dismissed as “stupid”.
Every disagreement… I was “stubborn”.
Every expressed desire… “selfish”
Every time I had a crush or my heart was broken… “waste of time”
Every pursuit to enhance how I looked… “ugly”
Nothing I ever did was good enough. If I brought home an A-, “Why didn’t you get an A?”
Every thought I ever shared with her would always land us in a full out fight. I shouldn’t say “fight” because, oh… I never fought back. That would mean death… or at least a few good slaps in the face. Instead, I should say it was a “high tension lecture” that ended me with my tail between my legs. It wasn’t safe for me to express anything.
Consciously, I knew I needed companionship and couldn’t do life alone… but subconsciously, I believed I was destined to be alone. I believed if I ever cared about anyone deep enough or long enough, they would eventually leave me… just like my Dad did physically, and how my Mom did emotionally.
I was a floater… in my own home.
I realized if I was going to survive, and I was GOING to, I had to do it myself. I didn’t trust my Mother. I didn’t trust my family. I didn’t trust my friends. Controlling myself and the things around me became my obsession.
I didn’t have anyone… so I found protection within the four walls of building significance for myself.
“I will make myself into somebody! I will make myself irreplaceable!”
… so began the building of my fortress… my empire….
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Part One – “In My Daddy’s Lap”
In My Daddy’s Lap (Part One)
My parents divorced when I was seven.
Wait… actually… I have no idea WHEN they divorced. The accurate statement would be… the announcement of the divorce happened when I was seven.
My childhood before seven was somewhat innocently happy. I remember Dad teaching me how to play “cat’s cradle“ and Mom bringing home the most amazing birthday cakes. But what’s interesting is, I don’t remember much of anything about my family life between the ages of seven and twelve. I have NO MEMORIES of home life in that 5 year life span.
Uh… therapy anyone? Yeah… don’t worry… I’m on that like a fat kid on a box of ding-dongs.
Let’s back up a bit: The day my mother told us they were divorcing, I remember feeling EXTREMELY confused.
I was old enough to know what “divorce” meant, but I never heard OR saw my parents fight. Heck… I barely remembered ever seeing them talk. I never thought the divorce was my fault, but I didn’t know WHY they needed a divorce since everything seemed “fine”. What confused me even more was why my Mom pulled us three girls into my bedroom to tell us ALONE when my Dad was sitting right in the living room watching football. ”Isn’t this something they should be doing together?” I kept asking myself.
It felt like an hour had passed in that room. I didn’t hear a thing that was said. I remember my sister, Renee, crying and my baby sister, Helen, crawling all over the place. That baby had no clue our world was about to drastically change. All I wanted to do was get OUT of that room and jump into my Dad’s lap.
Once the “meeting” was over… I did just that.
My sister, Renee, and I ran and jumped into my Dad’s lap. I remember Renee asking him,
“Why, Daddy?… WHY? Why are you leaving us?”
Then I heard the words I would never forget:
“Because this is what your Mom wants.”
Then, the unimaginable happened. My Dad broke down and cried…
I had NEVER seen my Dad cry. NEVER…
in the center of the couch of our family room…
with football television as a faint background noise…
we sat…
weeping…
in my father’s lap for the very last time.
Something inside me died that day.
At age seven, sitting there for the last time ever in my Daddy’s lap, I made my first lifetime decision:
I was NEVER going to let anyone make decisions like this for me.
NO ONE would ever make me cry again.
And this ONE single decision ruled my life for the next 23 years…
Jenni on Skype: jclayville 
