[This is a recent X post.]
Stories of rejecting bitterness and being willing to practice forgiveness:
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Corrie ten Boom’s family sought to protect Jews from the Nazis during WW2. They were betrayed, arrested, and sent to a concentration camp. Corrie’s sister Betsie was among those who died there. Years later, after the war, Corrie gave a speech at church in Numich.
Afterwards a large man approached her; Corrie immediately recognized him as one of the most brutal guards in her camp. She froze in pain and anguish. The man said to her, “I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well. Will you forgive me?” Corrie wrestled with what she should say. It was the most difficult thing she ever faced. In her own words:
“I had to do it – I knew that. The message that God forgives has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. “Jesus, help me!” I prayed silently. “I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling.”
And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me. And as I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.
“I forgive you, brother!” I cried. “With all my heart!”
For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely as I did then.”
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Robert E. Lee once spoke in the highest terms to President Davis about an officer who was known to have nothing but hatred and disrespect for Lee. When someone pointed out to Lee that the very man he was praising held him in contempt, Lee replied, “Yes, that’s true. But the president asked for my opinion of him, not his opinion of me.” Lee chose to bless rather than curse. Lee refused to be bitter.
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An excerpt from Ronald Reagan’s journal, the first day he wrote after the assassination attempt in March 1981, on foregoing bitterness:
“…I walked into the emergency room and was hoisted onto a cart…It was then we learned I’d been shot & had a bullet in my lung…
Getting shot hurts. Still my fear was growing because no matter how hard I tried to breathe it seemed I was getting less and less air. I focused on that tiled ceiling and prayed.
But I realized I couldn’t ask for God’s help while at the same time I felt hatred for the mixed up young man who had shot me. Isn’t that the meaning of the lost sheep? … I began to pray for his soul and that he would find his way back to the fold.
I opened my eyes once to find Nancy there. I pray I’ll never face a day when she isn’t there. Of all the ways God has blessed me giving her to me is the greatest and beyond anything I can ever hope to deserve…
…Whatever happens now I owe my life to God and will try to serve him in every way I can…”
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