Practice Resurrection: Feast on forgiveness

Re-posting from April 2013 because it's a truth that never gets old, and a way of life that brings so much peace. May you know the same today, dear friends.

"Refusing to forgive is tantamount to re-crucifying Christ. Instead of seeing stones rolled away, we throw stones at each other. ... When we forgive we set loose the [Easter] power of love in the world." (Johann Christoph Arnold, via Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter)

For more than ten years I have served within a ministry that is overflowing with stories of forgiveness. No story of forgiveness gets to be amazing, though, without deep suffering. Because this ministry requires absolute confidentiality, I can't tell you any of the stories.

This is not a hardship for me. I value the lives and healing of these men and women too much to be tempted to break confidence. I only mention this much because I wish that -- even for one week -- you all could sit witness to healing with me.

You'd discover, yes, your worst suspicions about the depravity of human nature are true. Maybe, like me, you'd lose your ability to be surprised at the ability for human beings to consume, degrade, abuse and ignore each other. Hopefully, though, you'd also fight with me to keep feeling -- even when feeling hurts. During the first week of each session, after hearing new stories of wounding, I still gulp down bitter bile for about seven days.

I get good and livid with injustice.

I know by now to pray to the Christ who goes ahead and behind me. I ask Him to help me not forget the supreme act of injustice that saved us all. And, I wait to see how His Father, by His Spirit, will transact redemption -- swapping beauty for bitter ashes, joy for the hearts of these walking wounded.

"What so many people today fail to realize is that forgiveness is a door to peace and happiness. Forgiving is not ignoring wrongdoing, but overcoming the evil inside us and in our world with love. To forgive is not just a command of Christ but the key to reconciling all that is broken in our lives and relationships." (Johann Christoph Arnold)

I hope that I never stop feeling astonished at the human capacity for faith -- the space in the human heart left open for hope when it doesn't make any sense at all. I sometimes think it's as if the Father of the risen Christ wedged a pebble from the tombstone into each of our hearts, leaving a crack for resurrection air to survive until the moment we take Him up on the offer.

I've met people who shouldn't be able to function in any sort of relationship again, ever. Yet they show up -- maybe just this one last try -- for healing prayer from their worst enemy, other people. They, who should not trust again ever, welcome the Spirit of Christ to lead them toward reconciliation -- a reconnection of all that disconnects them in their relationships with God, themselves and others.

One theme that hardly ever shows up in the scores of stories I've heard? Justice. The abused remain abused whether anyone they love validates their story or not. The betrayed remain betrayed. No cosmic pen rewrites the pain that brought them to the group in the first place. The bereaved still miss fathers, mothers, spouses, children. The violated don't get back the innocence of childhood.

We pray for justice. We hope for justice. We believe together that all manner of things shall be well. But we hardly ever experience it in the way we'd always imagined it'd come. Like the Jesus-followers who thought he'd throw off oppression with a mighty demonstration of vengeance, we hoped for the same.

Like the Emmaus walkers we admit: "But we had hoped...."

Then we gather around the cross and remember it's not justice that saves us. Justice is the hope we long for, but for now, the Healer invites us into suffering. Not the sort defined by helpless victimhood or apathetic dullness; rather, a surrender to become power-full forgivers -- wounded healers.

Our very act of surrender to the One who gave forgiveness even when He could have destroyed His abusers, this is the Christ who asks us to follow him.

This is the same Christ looking his betrayer, Peter, in the eyes, handing him grilled fish and toasty bread, and hope-fully seeking reconciliation. Not only that, but invited his friend to join Him in suffering.

John 21:15-19 - Jesus and Peter 

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.” He said to him a second time,“Simon, son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you used to dress yourself and walk wherever you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go.” (This he said to show by what kind of death he was to glorify God.) And after saying this he said to him, “Follow me.”

This is the Christ who forgave his own murderers, who forgave me, too, and who commands us to forgive. Who invites us to suffering, and who, with his own body, turned the bread of suffering into the bread of life.



And these men and women I've had the privilege to know for the past ten years say "Yes, I'm starving. Nothing I've tried fills me like the Bread of Life." Together we practice the backwards, upside down and shocking claims of Jesus that when we forgive, resurrection power is released. Life happens.

Our offer of forgiveness comes only after we acknowledge wrong has been done. Giving our wounders a pass, diminishing their acts because we know they meant well, acting as if we are to blame in some way for our violation does not release resurrection power. Time does not heal. Silence does not heal. Trumped up "Christian love" does not heal. Forgetting does not heal. All of these coping behaviors leave us starving for whole, life-giving nourishment.

Only forgiveness -- the sort borne of suffering and granted to us first by the Suffering Christ -- releases us and others to love and justice. Only the Bread of Life fills us -- and no other.

When my own wounds creep up inside me, cause me to feast on old anxieties and bitterness, I'm learning to center myself in Jesus. I breathe truth in and out, finding myself again as hidden with Christ in God, His fought-for and loved-on daughter

I breathe in:

You are the Bread of Life

I breathe out:

Fill me now, O Christ.



As I've journeyed these past eight years with men and women seeking healing for their relationships, and as I've walked my own bumpy path learning to give and receive good love, I've discovered four major roadblocks to forgiveness. With the help of author Dawn Edens' book (My Peace I Give You) about finding healing from childhood sexual abuse, here are the observations I've made and Edens' insights.

1. We believe surrendering to forgiveness equals ignoring wrongdoing.

"Forgiveness does not mean forgoing the demands of justice. It means wanting God's best for that person. Where there is a crime, God's best can mean, in the words of Mark Shea, 'releasing the evildoer into the hands of God's mercy even as you finger him to the cops.' " (Edens)

2. We've become so familiar with the energy anger and bitterness give us, we're afraid we'll no longer recognize ourselves if we release our wounders.

"Forgiveness means letting go of resentment...The greatest good possible is that we grow in grace. When we hold onto resentment toward the person who hurt us, we impede grace. " (Edens)

3. We convince ourselves that we aren't really hurt and, therefore, do not need to forgive.

Sadly I find this objection to be most common among those who've been raised in the Church and/or deeply religious homes. A common variation sounds like this: So many other people have really hard stories, mine is small in comparison so I should not complain. I should be grateful I didn't have it worse. 

When I hear these types of statements (and, perhaps, because I used to say it so often myself) I offer the most holy response I can muster. 

Bull shit. 

Hurt is hurt, brokenness is brokenness, and all of it separates us from the whole, thriving life God intended for us when He first thought us up. 

It's as if we are hanging mid-air between what we were on one cliff, and what God intended for us to be on the facing cliff. Whether we miss safe landing by a toenail or a mile, we are doomed. When our relationships with God, ourselves and others are damaged, we hurt. As soon as we can own that fact and surrender to the uncomfortable feelings of grief, the closer we are to dealing with the reality of wounding and forgiveness. 

We do not help anyone -- ourselves, our wounders or the people we've deemed to be more wounded than us -- by refusing to deal honestly with the reality of our pain.

4. We already prayed to forgive our offender once and that was enough/it didn't work.

"Forgiveness is not within our own power. It is in God's power. ... [from The Catechism] 'It is not in our power not to feel or to forget an offense; but the heart that offers itself to the Holy Spirit turns injury into compassion and purifies the memory in transforming the hurt into intercession.' " (Edens)

I've discovered I need to practice forgiveness several times a day every day of my life. There have been -- thanks be to God -- key moments in my life where I've released large amounts of bitterness, resentment, and anger toward an offender in one climactic prayer. Those moments are good for me to rehearse, to re-visit when I begin to doubt my wellness. But they are not enough. I am too prone to wander back into the realms, be re-hurt all over again, remember new offenses I'd not dealt with yet or see old offenses in a new way. I must pray often: Forgive me my trespasses as I forgive those who trespass against me.

When we feast on unforgiveness, we are never satisfied. There is no justice available to remove the anguish of our wounded selves. When feast on the Bread of Life, we release ourselves (and our offenders) to His mercy and justice and find ourselves hungry no more.

We are full on the only sort of nutrient that lasts for eternity -- the body and blood of Christ. And we are glad.

post script:

I do not feel a specific calling to offer writing that deals with all the aspects of relational wounding or any form of abuse. I do have a story of my own and am honored to walk with others in face-to-face ministry. I also do not mean to suggest that a healing prayer ministry is the only form of support needed for victims of abuse or relational crisis. I am a firm believer in many types of counselling and therapeutic services. If you are looking for books that offer a wider range of help for those suffering from any form of abuse, I offer a few suggestions:

My Peace I Give You: Healing Sexual Wounds with the Help of the Saints by Dawn Eden 

Strength in Weakness: Healing Sexual and Relational Brokenness by Andrew Comiskey 

Changes That Heal: How to Understand Your Past to Ensure a Healthier Future by Dr. Henry Cloud 

Thin Places: A Memoir by Mary E. DeMuth 

The Wounded Heart: Hope for Adult Victims of Childhood Sexual Abuse by Dan Allendar

Retrieve Lament: a mourning story from Cheryl Sellstrom

Each year during Holy Week, I ask friends to share a mourning story from their own life as a way to help us see Christ in the midst of suffering. My courageous friend shares today's story with us.  I have learned so much from her deep, deep love for people and for Christ.  She has suffered more than most people I know, and manages to also be someone who laughs more infectiously than most people I know.  In our time in Austin, she and Trey have been some of our closest confidantes.  I feel privileged to introduce you to her here.

Our wedding day, 1993

"Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."

Jesus spoke these words from the cross as people were hurling all kinds of abuse at him.  As His disciples, he commands us to do the same.  But, what if our anger is not aimed at those who have sinned against us? What if our anger is aimed at God? What if it's God we need to forgive?  

My journey with the Lord has been both beautiful and ugly all at the same time, but isn't that the cross -- both beautiful and ugly?  

My husband Trey passed away a little over two years ago. What many people don't know is that it was the second time I have been widowed. I was married to my first husband, Terry, for 7 years, until he was tragically killed in a motorcycle accident.  

The Lord has walked me through the valley of shadows several times.  The losses that seem to cut the deepest, or the losses that have made me question God the most, were the loss of my sister Kim, followed by Trey five years later.  

My older sister Kim and me

These two people were the most significant people in my life. Kim always took care of me (acting as a second mother), and she was the best sister anyone could ask for.  Trey was the embodiment of Ephesians 5:25, "Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the Church and gave Himself up for her."  Most of my inner healing, I owe to Trey's love for me. Kim and Trey were the two people I could depend on to be there for me no matter what.

I remember saying to myself once in prayer shortly after Trey died Now, there is only Jesus.  Doesn’t that seem funny?  I mean Jesus is enough, right?  We hear those platitudes all the time: ”Jesus is all you need.”  

But after Trey died, I wanted flesh and blood to touch. I wanted flesh and blood that -- in turn -- could touch me!

In the few months that passed after Trey's death, I was praying in a huge chair in my living room.  As I got quiet before the Lord, I could feel His presence and His arms wrapped around me as I was grieving, and I felt like a little girl pulled up in His arms.  So I rested in His lap, weeping.

But then my weeping turned to wailing, and my peacefulness  to anger.

I began to beat the chair, but in my heart and mind, I was beating the Lord. I was flailing about like a three-year-old who did not get her way. As I continued to feel the arms of Christ holding me tightly, I screamed over and over again, I hate you!  I hate you!

When I had hemorrhaged all the anger and bitterness of my mind and heart to the Lord, I fell exhausted into His arms. His grace  became sufficient, and His presence alone became enough.  

I didn't hate Jesus. He knew that. He knows that I have been ruined for any other Lover since I met Him thirty years ago.  I am perplexed by Him at times, but I have learned to trust Him.  

In the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Lucy asks, "Is He safe?”  “Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” 

Trey with our daughters

One year ago this week, our family suffered another loss. Trey's mother, Nell Sellstrom, died of pancreatic cancer.  Nell broke the mold when it comes to mother-in-laws -- in a good way.  I miss her terribly. 

Though the Lord took our family deeper into the valley of the shadow -- instead of beginning our ascent after grieving Trey -- I was at peace.  Again I was perplexed, but at peace, because  though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.

I have forgiven God for these ugly parts of the cross.  It is there, that I, in a small way, taste and offer a tiny bit of suffering -- mingling it with His. In a small way, I am becoming like the One who asks for my unwavering trust, no matter where He leads -- even when He asks me to stretch out my hands and die. I am becoming more like Him when He asks me to forgive those who, in their own brokenness, have broken me, to die to dreams, to die to unanswered prayers, to die to my need of an explanation, and to die to my need to put God in my terms -- terms that I can understand.  

From the cross, Jesus put His hope fully in the Father. He trusted that the Father was able to raise Him from the dead, just as He had raised Lazarus from the dead.  He trusted that the Father, through Him, was restoring what was lost and making all things new.

Christ on the cross gave the most beautiful private offering to the Father -- His unwavering trust. Christ bids us to do the same. I have learned, and tell you, He is worthy of our trust, and His communion is the sweetest of all!  He is the King, I tell you, and He is good!  

Father, I forgive You - even when I know not what You do.

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Cheryl is learning how to be a single 

parent to her to lovely daughters Kate

and Claire. She loves serving as a Spiritual Director

for Tres Dias weekends, and leading small groups for

Living Waters. She found a new passion recently-

power lifting! 

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I count it a high privilege to know -- at least in small part -- the mourning stories of the dear ones who will share here for seven days. Their lives walk the path between celebration, yes, but also suffering -- illness, relational disillusionment, anxiety, joblessness, death of loved ones, death of dearly-held dreams. Their stories have helped form me in my understanding of suffering and I believe they could also encourage you too. The philosopher Blaise Pascal said that Christ suffers until the end of the world. As we welcome each other's stories, we welcome the Suffering Servant himself.

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(See all of the Retrieve Lament stories from previous years here)

Lent daybook, 24: Blessed is the one whose sin is forgiven

My Lent daybook for these 40 days of prayer. Join me, won't you? (see previous Lent daybook 2016 posts here)

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look

Tenebrae

Erica L. Grimm 

source

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read

Psalm 32:1-5

Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man against whom the Lord counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.

For when I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer. Selah

I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not cover my iniquity;I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord,” and you forgave the iniquity of my sin. Selah

all readings for the day: Psalm 32; Joshua 4:14-24; 2 Corinthians 5:6-15

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pray

Almighty God, you know that we have no power in ourselves to help ourselves: Keep us both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls, that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (source)

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listen

Blest Is the Man - Psalm 32 by Katy Snow

( I invite you to listen with me to my ever-evolving Lent playlist & Lent Spirituals playlist )

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do

Today, attempt to fast sounds for about an hour. Turn off your music, TV, and phone. Power down anything that beeps or buzzes or blinks. Then attend to your responses: Are you restless or restful without the filler? Is your mind more or less distractible? Is the aloneness comforting or unsettling? Ask God to reveal to you the power this world's sounds have in your life. Then ask Him to reveal to you the power His sounds have in your soul. (source: 40 Days of Decrease)

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(see all Lent daybook posts from 2015 here)

Lent daybook, 14: for they were overthrown in the wilderness

My Lent daybook for these 40 days of prayer. Join me, won't you? (see previous Lent daybook 2016 posts here)

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look

When I Am Laid In Earth

mapping the melting away of the Lewis Glacier on Mt. Kenya

Simon Norfolk, 2015

source

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read

Psalm 105:7-15,42 / Numbers 14:11-19 / 1 Corinthians 10:1-7, 12-13

He is the Lord our God; his judgments are in all the earth. He remembers his covenant forever, the word that he commanded, for a thousand generations, the covenant that he made with Abraham, his sworn promise to Isaac, which he confirmed to Jacob as a statute, to Israel as an everlasting covenant, ... For he remembered his holy promise, and Abraham, his servant./ 

And the Lord said to Moses, “How long will this people despise me? And how long will they not believe in me, in spite of all the signs that I have done among them? I will strike them with the pestilence and disinherit them, and I will make of you a nation greater and mightier than they.” 

But Moses said to the Lord, “Then the Egyptians will hear of it, for you brought up this people in your might from among them, and they will tell the inhabitants of this land. They have heard that you, O Lord, are in the midst of this people. For you, O Lord, are seen face to face, and your cloud stands over them and you go before them, in a pillar of cloud by day and in a pillar of fire by night. Now if you kill this people as one man, then the nations who have heard your fame will say, ‘It is because the Lord was not able to bring this people into the land that he swore to give to them that he has killed them in the wilderness.’  

And now, please let the power of the Lord be great as you have promised, saying, ‘The Lord is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving iniquity and transgression, but he will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, to the third and the fourth generation.’ Please pardon the iniquity of this people, according to the greatness of your steadfast love, just as you have forgiven this people, from Egypt until now.”/ 

For I do not want you to be unaware, brothers, that our fathers were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea, and all were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea, and all ate the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink. For they drank from the spiritual Rock that followed them, and the Rock was Christ. Nevertheless, with most of them God was not pleased, for they were overthrown in the wilderness. 

Now these things took place as examples for us, that we might not desire evil as they did. Do not be idolaters as some of them were; as it is written, “The people sat down to eat and drink and rose up to play.”... 

Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall. No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.

all readings for the day: Psalm 105:1-15,42; Numbers 14:10b-24; 1 Corinthians 10:1-13

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pray

God of the covenant, in the glory of the cross your Son embraced the power of death and broke its hold over your people. In this time of repentance, draw all people to yourself, that we who confess Jesus as Lord may put aside the deeds of death and accept the life of your kingdom.  Amen. (source)

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listen

Come Thou Fount by Page CXVI

( I invite you to listen with me to my ever-evolving Lent playlist & Lent Spirituals playlist )

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do

Fast from at least one meal today.  Spend the time you would have been preparing and eating the meal in prayer and confession. Jesus died for our sin. Why then would we work to keep it alive? Pray for a sincere love for Christ, to the degree that compels you to walk away from sin where you can and get help where you cannot. 

Offer this prayer to Jesus: 

Savior, am I worshipping anything that you were crucified for? If so, I repent: forgive me, heal me, send help to me, and strengthen my love for You. When I am tempted, may I see Your cross, remember Your cost, and let love "bind my wandering heart to You." (source: 40 Days of Decrease)

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(see all Lent daybook posts from 2015 here)

This is an opportunity to repent

Prayer In Church - Gerard Sekoto, 1947

source

I can't stop watching the courtroom video footage of the families of the victims killed this week at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church addressing the defendant, Dylann Roof. It's more what we hear than what we see that keeps me hitting the play button over and over again.  

Projected onto a screen in the corner of the courtroom we see the image of Roof dressed in prison uniform standing with two armed guards.  He looks downward as one after another the family representatives speak directly to him.

"I forgive you. You have taken something precious from me. You have hurt me. May God have mercy on your soul." 

"I forgive you and my family forgives you.  We would like you to take this opportunity to repent. Give your life to Christ and He will change you." 

"We welcomed you Wednesday night into our Bible Study with open arms. You have killed some of the most beautiful people that I know.  Every fiber in my body hurts and I'll never be the same. But as we said in Bible Study, we enjoyed you. May God have mercy on you."

In the outpouring of response to this evil event, the quietness and strength of the family member's voices cut through my own questions: How should I pray?  How should I respond?  What does it look and sound like to be a Christian right here, right now?

I've seen many calls for the Church to show solidarity with Charleston in our words and songs of prayer, mourning, and lament.  This is a right response to death and violence and racism.  I've seen counter calls for more action, protest and mobilization for change in our churches and in our country's response to what is, in the words of one commentator, "the scourge of racism".  This, too, is a right response. Prayer, lament, and works of justice are all acts of worship given to us by our Creator who formed us.  

Confession and forgiveness are also acts of worship, maybe even the bridge that connects mourning and mobilizing. They are as familiar as the words our Lord taught us to pray and are crucial to our responses to racism.

In all the words flooding my blog reader and social media newsfeeds this week I have seen few calls for confession, forgiveness and repentance.  I’m talking about the kind of call for a change of mind and heart that is pointed inward and not outward for someone else to recognize and own.  

I think, immersed in their own pain and without an agenda to speak to all of us, the families of the victims we hear in the video give us the essential elements for a full-throated response to the Charleston killings: expressions of lament, petitions for mercy, calls for justice, responses of forgiveness and invitations to those not yet reconciled to God through Christ.

When I listened the first time to the video and heard our fellow Anglican priest, Reverend Anthony Thompson, speak to his wife's killer I heard him as if he were speaking to me:  "We would like you to take this opportunity to repent."  Because I believe that God’s spirit convicts us, I have to believe that it was His Holy Spirit who took Reverend Thompson’s words offered to one man and pointed them to me as well.  

As I've been praying for a right response I've recognized a particular defense mechanism that crops up in me -- unwittingly and, often, unnoticed. It seems to be a common posture toward racism among those raised in my particular background (geographical, cultural, religious, family).  At the risk of using a soundbite, but for the sake of being clear, I'll call it the "They're playing the race card" dismissal. Buried into my belief system, I seem to have picked up the notion that I'm smart enough to determine the difference between true acts of racism and those who'd exploit suffering for their own ideological gain. 

At the very best, this posture represents an intellectual laziness toward the historical, sociological and economic complexities of racism in the United States.

At the very worst, it's a passive-aggressive way to say "I don’t care and can't be bothered with your suffering."  

Christ taught us that what was in our hearts incriminates us as much as the actions we do or leave undone.  In this way, my sins -- committed or omitted -- of prejudice, apathy, and refusal to acknowledge that countless numbers of my brothers and sisters have something against my ignorance of their suffering accuses me also. I nurture the environment of racism with my own half-hearted responses and hidden assumptions.  

I'm a middle-class white woman who lives in a mostly white neighborhood. I admit that I don't have any experience with racism, but I do have experience with another sort of suffering that requires a thoughtful response. Brian and I have spent much of our time in the last ten years praying with small groups of people who have been relationally or sexually wounded. We started praying and talking with others in this quiet space because of our own suffering and then could not stop because it's the closest place to God we've been able to find on this earth.

In these quiet rooms, men and women who have reason both to accuse and to be accused take God at His word, that He will draw near to the brokenhearted and hear our words of lament, forgiveness, confession and petitions for justice.  We grieve together for all of the ways we have given and received every sort of human violation.  

I've heard men and women who have been abused, ignored, rejected, abandoned, beaten, raped, molested, betrayed, neglected, cheated, and shunned choose, in the presence of God and trusted friends, to forgive with the same sort of words as Ethel Lance's daughter, "You took something very precious from me, but I forgive you. May God have mercy on your soul." I've also heard men and women who had vowed to take hidden sins to their grave, so deep the shame and embarrassment, make confession in response to an invitation much like Reverend Thompson's "Repent, repent."

This is a different sort of suffering brought on by a different sort of sin, but the response to the Gospel is strikingly similar as the prayers we hear in the video footage. Reverend Thompson showed Dylann Roof a great kindness in his invitation to repentance.  While he was not speaking to us, we would be wise to hear that same invitation for ourselves because lament, confession and mobilization are delicately and worshipfully intertwined.

In their courage and anguish, the Christians in Charleston inadvertently delivered a call to worship for the whole Church. If the racist actions of one man in Charleston gives us all an opportunity to repent, perhaps the courage of his victims to forgive in the face of hate will offer that same mercy of God over each one of us, as well.

For my own response, I've been praying the Confession from the Book of Common Prayer, inserting the specific acts of commission and omission that the Holy Spirit brings to my mind. I've copied and pasted it here, if it will help your own search for a right response.

Most merciful God,

I confess that I have sinned against you

in thought, word, and deed,

by what I have done,

and by what I have left undone.

I have not loved you with my whole heart;

I have not loved my neighbors as myself.

I am truly sorry and I humbly repent.

For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,

have mercy on me and forgive me;

that I may delight in your will,

and walk in your ways,

to the glory of your Name. Amen.

May Almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us all our sins

through our Lord Jesus Christ, strengthen us in all

goodness, and by the power of the Holy Spirit keep us in

eternal life. Amen.

May the peace of Christ be with Charleston and with you.