From The Heart The Tongue Speweth

A few years ago, I caught myself using the term “Step Dork” to describe an ex-stepdad.

If you think that’s bad, you should’ve heard some of the more colorful nicknames I’d coined for him during his reign in my life. But after I became a Christian, I worked hard to curb the toxic snark that had long flowed fluently from my tongue. The kind of stuff I’d learned from him, actually.

Poetic justice and all.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t forgiven the man. Jesus says to forgive, so, obedient young saint that I was, I did. (That muffled coughing sound you just heard was the chuckle of an older, wiser, grace-saved sinner.) Being the bigger person, I Let It Go. Of course, I never wanted to see his face again. Ever. Forgiving your enemies doesn’t mean you have to like them.

Because that’d be pushing it.

During his time in my life, I ricocheted between hating him and hating myself. Later, as a new Christian, I understood forgiveness to mean giving no more thought or credence to the guy who had shattered my already wobbly self-esteem. At “dismissal” forgiveness, I had succeeded. But, since I’d come so far, I figured I deserved to indulge in a little harmless sarcasm once in a while. It kept the memories from bubbling up.

And yet, using the term “Step-Dork” decades later made me realize I had neither forgiven nor forgotten. I still hated him. Any time his name came up, I responded with scathing remarks that trickled from my stagnant reservoir of bitterness. No matter what I professed in my well-meant but foundering attempts at obedience, anyone could see that I had not forgiven him at all.

The Spirit of Christ nudged me to do something about it. So I prayed for help and looked to God’s word for guidance. The Bible says to forgive as God forgives us. It says to not only forgive those who offend us, but also to pray for our enemies.

Fabulous.

So I began to pray for him. Things like, “Lord, I hope he’s not being a creep to anyone else now.” And, “Make him know how much he hurt me, how I needed a good dad and how he totally let me down.” Okay, maybe a checklist of his sins and all the ways he needed to change wasn’t exactly what God wanted from me, but I wasn’t about to ask God to bless him—that would be like rewarding evil. God surely didn’t expect me to pray blessings on someone who didn’t deserve them.

I kept bungling along, continuing to pray for him. “God, cure his alcoholism,” or “Heal whatever is inside that makes him such a bully.”

After a while, I felt the Lord nudging me to pray for something truly good for him, something significant, and more importantly, that my request be sincere.

Right. How could I sincerely want anything good for someone who had wounded me so deeply?

But God patiently reminded me it isn’t always about my wants. I needed to want what God wanted for him—what he wants for everyone who is lost and without him. Like me, the man was an immortal soul who would spend eternity somewhere. I needed to pray he would spend eternity with an amazing, loving God.

My eternity. My amazing, loving God.

It wasn’t easy at first, but I knew it was right. “Lord, please help him know your love, peace and forgiveness. Help him do whatever it takes to be right with you.” This became my regular prayer.

It wasn’t until later that I realized something in me had changed as a result of those prayers. When his name came up, no caustic wisecrack surfaced, no snarky remark burst from my lips. By praying sincerely for his soul, my heart had changed. My hate-tank was empty. The desire to verbally lash out and wound him had vanished.

Praying for my enemy gave me the ability to forgive him.

I’ve said I never want to see his face again. So what would I do if ran into him now?

I’d like to think I would ask him if he’s found God’s grace, and if he hasn’t, I’d ask him if I can share some of mine. Because I remember I’ve fallen prey to addiction, just as he has. We all battle the demons that aim for those particular weaknesses and footholds in each of our lives. We are all hopeless without Christ and in desperate need of God’s grace and help.

I don’t know if my prayers for him have been answered. What I do know is whether or not God changed him, praying for him changed me. All I feel for the man I had long held in contempt is compassion.

I believe praying sincerely for another eternal soul yields significant results, whether seen or unseen. At the very least, it draws us closer to the heart of God, from where his immeasurable love for each of us flows.

Question (which you don’t have to answer!): Do you ever catch yourself making bitter remarks about someone you thought you’d forgiven?