He was lying, and she knew it, but she couldn’t prove it.
After 30 minutes of tears and denial we suspected she was right. But, he clung to his lie like a drowning man, misplaced hope in concrete shoes.
Fearful eyes flashed. Will he be exposed? And what will be the consequence for his dogmatic refusal to repent?
And they face off. Neither budging. Voices rising. Tears flowing.
I tug her aside to consider forgiveness. Undeserved, unmerited mercy gifted to him because she loves him. She can’t make him confess or apologize, but she can forgive him KNOWING he is wrong and unrepentant.
Her wet tears dampen my t-shirt as she considers the cost of letting go of her righteous anger. Forgiveness always comes at a cost.
“Mercy and forgiveness must be free and unmerited to the wrongdoer. If the wrongdoer has to do something to merit it, than it isn’t mercy, but forgiveness always comes at a cost to the one granting the forgiveness.”
~ Timothy Keller, The Prodigal God: Recovering the heart of the Christian faith.
Christ freely extends forgiveness, but it cost Him much. It wasn’t fair. It physically hurt, but he loved us too much to withhold it.
A shuddering cry. She wipes her cheeks. We pray for his repentance. Pray that God does the work we cannot force in the heart of the boy we love. And it is better this way because when God does it, it is done. It is real and it changes you.
And more than her way, she wants lasting change.
She faces his indignant stubbornness and freely extends what will cost her much.
His eyes widen.
A tiny smile turns up the corner of her lips. A hug is exchanged. One is set free. One is weighed down with conviction.
And the sun sets three times before he gathers the courage to fix what he broke. With a trembling frame, he stands before her. “I did it. I lied. It was wrong and I’m sorry. Next time I will be honest. Will you forgive me again?” A single tear marks his cheek. A lower lip quivers, the full weight of conviction heavy on his heart.
She smiles wider, tugs him in, fully restoring what sin had broken.
Our furnace shut off in the night causing the temperature inside the house to drop to an uncomfortable degree. A morning spent trouble shooting revealed an unexpected problem. Four year old hands had stuffed stones and gravel into the furnace exhaust pipe. Stones that could neither be dumped nor removed.
Deep breaths.
Was I angry? You bet! I had a good idea which mischievous boys under my care had been playing in the stones and they had been warned multiple times not to touch or play with those pipes.
Thankfully God interrupted my internal rant. As a mother, every moment of every day I am teaching. Whether I recognize it or not, act purposefully or not, choose wise words or not, I am teaching.
What does this moment teach? About life? About God? About forgiveness?
A 4-year-old boy will never tell an angry adult the truth. Anger breeds fear and he will lie to protect himself. Feigning calmness to turn on him afterwards breeds distrust.
Abstract ideas like forgiveness solidify when taught in the moment.
It took about 45 minutes for me to ask the question with a proper heart. The boys were honest, repentant, and sad they caused so much damage. They understood this was big and they didn’t need me to raise my voice or shake my finger to drive that point home.
A call the furnace company further revealed the repair cost. Yikes!
More deep breaths.
What did they boys learn in this moment? Hopefully more than just to leave the pipes alone! I hope they learned that I am a safe, trustworthy person – even when they mess up. I hope they learned that forgiveness and grace can be expected because I have experienced them. I know what it is like to stand before the judge aware of my sin yet hoping for undeserved grace.
What did I learn? Children respond to gentle corrective discipline while outright anger intensifies their defiance.
Okay, I knew that already.
But on this day I had the chance to live like I believed it and it made all the difference in the world. I hugged the boys, told them I love them, told them I forgive them, and that we all make mistakes. Now we learn from them and move on.
They ran off to play and I walked into the cold, cold living room to wait for the repair man. A smile appeared out of nowhere. Anger evaporated. Grace in the moment.
