You can forgive without forgetting...
Sep. 11th, 2005 03:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
readingredheadThat morning started out like any other, with me in my bed, asleep. It was cold outside, I remember, and I wasn't used to waking up early yet. The blankets were pulled up to my chin in an effort to pretend that I wouldn't have to be awake in another ten minutes.
I heard a noise and then my mom was in my room, shaking me awake and turning on the TV to a news station. I didn't get what was going on as I rubbed my eyes and sat up, asking what the heck she was doing waking me when I still had five minutes to sleep in. I saw the burning towers on television and my first thought was, "I can't use this for my current event that's due this Friday. Everyone will know about it, and I need something unique."
Now, four years later, I think I can maybe start to realize the importance of the things that happened on that fateful day in the beginning of September. I think that there are aspects of it that I understand now, ones that were merely confusing before. Now, four years removed from the suject, although I mourn I have moved on.
The problem is, America hasn't. We're still talking about 9/11 like it was yesterday. The general populace is still mad at Iraq, despite the fact that it's nearly impossible to link them to the attacks. Here in the US, the attitude towards September 11th suggests that, if we don't keep striking out against terrorism worldwide in order to enact some sort of far-reaching revenge program, we're not doing our job.
But after four years...maybe, our job is not to hold a grudge. Maybe, our job is to forgive.
Today being a Sunday, I went to church with my family. After we sang worship songs, my youth pastor showed a quick video commemmorating 9/11. Then, without commenting further on the video, he launched into a talk about forgiveness. Starting with an anecdote detailing one of his personal attempts at revenge, he continued on to build upon the idea that often, revenge is not as satisfying as forgiveness. If we take things into our own hands, he said, in a way it is like telling God that we do not trust Him to judge people accurately and take care of the solutions to our problems.
The saddest part is, I don't think he understood that he was preaching a message of peace in Iraq. I don't think that's what he intended at all; I don't think he made the connection between the small-scale idea of forgiving the punk in the next car over who cuts in front of you and the large-scale concept of forgiving a country that really hasn't done anything to deserve the "punishment" being meted out to it. I have a sad feeling that if I had approached him afterwards and asked him if he had forgiven the hijackers who took over those planes, he would have been very uncomfortable about answering.
Why is it that people can't seem to forgive? Why is it that we feel the need to impose our own vengeance upon people? As a Christian, I believe that God is the true judge of people, and that whatever happens to them, ultimately it is within His plan and I should be satisfied by it.
Vengeance is a destructive emotion. It tears apart lives on the most basic of levels. But on a larger scale, it also tears apart nations. More frighteningly, it perpetuates itself: vengeance begets vengeance. In this case, it feels like a never-ending cycle.
I will never forget the events of that day, nor will I forget how they shaped America and her people for years to come. But I don't have to forget in order to forgive. I don't have to forget in order to move on.
Yesterday my family and I drove down to Laguna Beach to get a few things done around town. We passed a war protest on the way by the boardwalk, and I smiled as I recognized a flag bearing the word "PACE" (Italian for "peace") on a rainbow-colored background. In Italy, I saw the same sort hanging from windows, over doors, even from clotheslines suspended high above the streets of Rome. Later, I walked into the Thalia Street Surf Shop with my dad. I was looking through a pile of t-shirts when one caught my eye. It said simply, "Peace Still Works." On the way back to where our car was parked, we passed a car with a bumper sticker saying, "We can bomb them into pieces, but we can't bomb them into peace." For things like that, I like Laguna Beach.
Peace. Such a simple word.
Apparently, the concept is not so simple any more.
I heard a noise and then my mom was in my room, shaking me awake and turning on the TV to a news station. I didn't get what was going on as I rubbed my eyes and sat up, asking what the heck she was doing waking me when I still had five minutes to sleep in. I saw the burning towers on television and my first thought was, "I can't use this for my current event that's due this Friday. Everyone will know about it, and I need something unique."
Now, four years later, I think I can maybe start to realize the importance of the things that happened on that fateful day in the beginning of September. I think that there are aspects of it that I understand now, ones that were merely confusing before. Now, four years removed from the suject, although I mourn I have moved on.
The problem is, America hasn't. We're still talking about 9/11 like it was yesterday. The general populace is still mad at Iraq, despite the fact that it's nearly impossible to link them to the attacks. Here in the US, the attitude towards September 11th suggests that, if we don't keep striking out against terrorism worldwide in order to enact some sort of far-reaching revenge program, we're not doing our job.
But after four years...maybe, our job is not to hold a grudge. Maybe, our job is to forgive.
Today being a Sunday, I went to church with my family. After we sang worship songs, my youth pastor showed a quick video commemmorating 9/11. Then, without commenting further on the video, he launched into a talk about forgiveness. Starting with an anecdote detailing one of his personal attempts at revenge, he continued on to build upon the idea that often, revenge is not as satisfying as forgiveness. If we take things into our own hands, he said, in a way it is like telling God that we do not trust Him to judge people accurately and take care of the solutions to our problems.
The saddest part is, I don't think he understood that he was preaching a message of peace in Iraq. I don't think that's what he intended at all; I don't think he made the connection between the small-scale idea of forgiving the punk in the next car over who cuts in front of you and the large-scale concept of forgiving a country that really hasn't done anything to deserve the "punishment" being meted out to it. I have a sad feeling that if I had approached him afterwards and asked him if he had forgiven the hijackers who took over those planes, he would have been very uncomfortable about answering.
Why is it that people can't seem to forgive? Why is it that we feel the need to impose our own vengeance upon people? As a Christian, I believe that God is the true judge of people, and that whatever happens to them, ultimately it is within His plan and I should be satisfied by it.
Vengeance is a destructive emotion. It tears apart lives on the most basic of levels. But on a larger scale, it also tears apart nations. More frighteningly, it perpetuates itself: vengeance begets vengeance. In this case, it feels like a never-ending cycle.
I will never forget the events of that day, nor will I forget how they shaped America and her people for years to come. But I don't have to forget in order to forgive. I don't have to forget in order to move on.
Yesterday my family and I drove down to Laguna Beach to get a few things done around town. We passed a war protest on the way by the boardwalk, and I smiled as I recognized a flag bearing the word "PACE" (Italian for "peace") on a rainbow-colored background. In Italy, I saw the same sort hanging from windows, over doors, even from clotheslines suspended high above the streets of Rome. Later, I walked into the Thalia Street Surf Shop with my dad. I was looking through a pile of t-shirts when one caught my eye. It said simply, "Peace Still Works." On the way back to where our car was parked, we passed a car with a bumper sticker saying, "We can bomb them into pieces, but we can't bomb them into peace." For things like that, I like Laguna Beach.
Peace. Such a simple word.
Apparently, the concept is not so simple any more.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-11 11:04 pm (UTC)But there are people who still hope, who still dream, who still love. Whether they are Christian or not, Jesus lives in their hearts...so I believe that for some people, even if they're not Christian, Jesus still lives, and they can be saved. Not as a human, but as something beyond us...because if a human could die to save the world, I would have given up my life long ago...
True salvation is found through Love, not through judgment. Maybe if people let go of their hurt and anger...and found it in them to forgive, maybe, just maybe, we'd be able to redeem ourselves. People are too focused on being God-like, meaning, they think they're able to judge...but God's judgment is overuled by God's love. Even at our last moment...we could ask for forgiveness, and God would allow us to be with God [I don't like saying "Him" when referring to God...you can't attach genitalia to Thought]
[Forgive me...your post inspired me. I hope what I said made sence...]
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-11 11:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-12 12:36 am (UTC)The most important part of the Bible, more important than John 3:16, in my opinion. I love that passage so much I tore it out of my Bible [not as an offencive or hateful gesture] and I carry it with me wherever I go.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-12 12:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-12 01:48 am (UTC)