Burglary and Grace

Early Sunday afternoon I walked into my house and it felt colder than usual. Being from the North, I see no reason for houses in Florida to be outfitted with heat so, of course, my heat wasn't on, but still it was colder than typical inside my recently acquired home.

I got a step and a half inside when I looked up and saw it.

Straight back through the living room is a hallway that runs the length of the house, culminating in the back porch door. That door was swung wide open with two busted, wooden pieces of the door frame on the carpet and the door's molding hanging on by a thread tilted inward at a 45 degree angle.

I'd had a break-in.

In my two plus years living in the inner city, I've gotten off pretty easy. Maybe had a pair of headphones or two stolen and that's it. I lived with an awareness that something like this could happen, but rarely thought about it or my hypothetical reaction to it.

Within seconds though, I began to process it. I didn't like what I found. While I searched the house checking for important items and documents and assessing the damage, my heart immediately began making accusations, lining up the suspects, indicting individuals, groups, and the neighborhood as a whole.

None of it was commendable. None of it was helpful. All of it was ugly.

My primary heart attitudes were bitterness and anger. These were very inward emotions. As is typical, I'd bet a collection of my best friends could not come up with five total times they had collectively seen me angry. And even though the bitterness and anger were totally internal and not being outwardly expressed at all, by mid-afternoon I could feel them eating away at me inside.

Resentment, even against an unknown person, does nothing but hurt yourself.

I knew it. I knew I had to let it go. I knew I had to forgive said unknown person, but I didn't want to.

For hours, I was very keenly aware of everything going on inside of me, the bitterness building into anger and from there exposing materialism, faithlessness, worry, self-righteousness, and pride. All of it very ugly. All of it sin. All of it inexcusable.

And even though, I was aware of it, even though I knew my lack of forgiveness would and was only hurting myself, it took until midnight for me to make any attempt to move towards forgiveness.

So, late in the night, I stepped out my back door onto the spot from where the intruder pounded in my door. First, I repented of my own junk. A lengthy process, because while I was telling God about my bitterness, asking Him to change me, and thanking Him for his forgiveness of my sin, I'd catch myself having a prideful thought, then confess, that, but catch myself in a mental image of punching someone in the face . . . and so on and so forth.

It took awhile to deal with me. And thankfully, I'm not the one who had to deal with me, because my old self has already been dealt with on a cross, crucified, and declared dead (see the last post).

After a lengthy time spent in prayer about my issues, I moved to the forgiveness.

And I knew I, by my own strength, wasn't about to forgive anyone for this, so I sent out the following text to 14 guys, "Fellas, quick prayer request. Someone broke into my house this morning. This second, I'm standing at the door they kicked in trying to forgive them, I want to release it, but its not easy. Can you pray for me to forgive? This isn't a cry for sympathy but a request that my own darkness would be overcome!"

I then set my phone down because I knew the flood of responses I was about to receive from across the country would be a distraction to my task at hand and started talking to God.

I had to repent a few more times as my old man's dead, but somehow still persuasive, heart was at work, but eventually brought myself to pray for the guy. I asked God to show him grace, a grace that would powerfully work in his heart, exposing attitudes and motives not just outward actions. I asked that God would work change in his life at a heart level the same way he had been working into my life all afternoon.

I asked that the Lord would give him the same grace that he had given me.

And then, I was ready, I physically held out my right hand turned my closed fist so my palm was facing downward and extended my fingers, opening my hand.

I released the offense.

I let it go.

Then I asked God to convict me of it as sin if I were ever to pick it back up again (which He has several times since then).

And I felt free.

When I picked my phone up off the cold, slightly wet concrete, I read my many text responses. One of them quoted 1 Peter 2, it was perfect:

But if you suffer for doing good and you endure it, this is commendable before God. To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps. 'He committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth.' When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly. He himself bore out sins in his body on the tree so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed. For you were like sheep going astray, but now you have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.