I thought I was over the hurt. Was sure I had moved on. But as I slipped my thumb under the seal of the invitation to my 10-year college reunion, it hit me:
I had not forgiven her.
During our last semester at school, the harsh tone and accusing anger of a friend had been more than my heart could handle, especially in the middle of my year-long battle with depression. A deep sense of sadness and self-doubt that I couldn’t explain or escape had left me feeling depleted.
When she questioned something I had done and expressed deep frustration toward me, I didn’t have the mental or emotional strength to process her criticism without being pulled into a pit of condemnation.
I knew if I attended our class reunion I would see her and other friends who had gotten tangled in our mess.
And with that possibility came a flood of memories and emotions that paralyzed me. The same way I felt the day our friendship ended. The day that pretty much ruined the last few weeks of my senior year.
Holding the envelope in my hand, all that hurt took hold of me again. Instead of simply deciding how to RSVP, I stood at the edge of a pit filled with insecurity that threatened to pull me back in.
After weeks of holding onto the invitation I decided I was tired of living as prisoner to my hurt. I wanted freedom. The kind of freedom I had come to know in the ten years in-between. The freedom of forgiveness Jesus died to give me.
I needed God’s hope and assurance so I could walk into the reunion, not as a wounded woman but as a secure child of God. Continue reading here.…