Middle school was a hard time for me. I went from a fairly decent elementary school to a tough middle school that was located about a block away from the projects. My parents didn't know it was a bad environment and by the time they realized it and pulled me out of there, I had already endured a full year of torment, bullying, threats, and the occassional physical abuse. My second year there, I decided that since I couldn't beat them, I'd have to join them.
When I entered High School, I went back to my nerdy book-lovin' roots and spent my entire high school life working to change the stupid notion held by most of the Latino kids that if you were smart you were "acting white". By the time I graduated, I convinced my Latino peers that it was our responsibility as Latinos to be smart, go to college, and be role models for other kids.
In the spring of my freshman year at Purdue, I came back to my dorm to find a really big scary looking guy, covered in prison tattoos, sitting on the steps of the building I lived in. It was Javier M. One of my chief tormentors during my middle school and high school years.
Javier told me that he had just gotten out of prison a few weeks before, and that he had come to visit a relative that lived about 45 minutes away. He heard I was at Purdue, so he called Campus info and got my address and phone number.
He told me that he came to find me because he wanted to apologize for everything he ever did to me. He told me that he was proud of me and that I was an example for the kids in the neighborhood. He went on to say that it was great that I didn't care what other people thought of me and that I did what I knew was right. He asked for forgiveness for the abuse and bullying he put me through when we were kids.
I forgave him. We ended up talking for several hours and I know that he left feeling better about himself. It was very validating for me to know that he actually thought about what he did and how it affected me, even years after it happened.
When I volunteered to teach Junior Achievement classes in the West Side of Chicago, I encouraged the kids to stay out of trouble, go to college, see the world. There was always one kid that asked, "What if you are being bullied by a gang because you won't join?" Javier has given me a hopeful answer that I can pass on to these kids. I am greatful to him for that.
This is a nice story that ends well. But lately, I have been struggling with issues of forgiveness. It is a simple concept. As Christians we are called to forgive, as Christ forgives us. I wonder if when we get to heaven, we will be able to see the consequences of the hurts we have imposed on others because of our sin. I wonder how much I will grieve the harm I did unto others. I also question why we sometimes hold on to the hurt that other's have inflicted on us. Why not just release it to God and receive healing when it obviously hurts the person who holds on to it, more than the person that hurt you to begin with.
Some wounds run deep and resurface. If Javier's bullying had lasting physical or emotional affects, would it have been so easy for me to forgive him that spring afternoon? What if I hadn't? Would I have ended up being bitter and hating him? He probably would have felt bad for a while, but then he would have forgiven HIMSELF and he would have forgotten about me. Holding on to anger doesn't punish the offender, it just makes the offended sick.
Any thoughts or encouragement on this issue are welcomed.
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