Forgiveness and Trust

I was having a conversation with someone the other day that ended up emphasizing the difference between forgiveness and trust. At this point in our adult lives, we’ve all heard that we need to forgive others, right? We’ve all heard that Jesus instructed that we would be required to forgive 70 times 7. And of course as adults we understand that is not meant to be taken literally but instead to mean that we are not meant to put limits on our forgiveness to others just as our Heavenly Father does not put limits on His forgiveness for us. 

Now, something that comes up now and again is the fact that there is a difference between forgiveness and trust. I can forgive those who trespass me. Absolutely. And I need that. We all do, right? Holding on to the anger and the hurt is not healthy. But it is important to remember that God is not commanding us to trust people without boundaries. Forgiveness without limits is not the same as trust without boundaries. Now, I’ve heard that said before, but I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that it was backed up by scripture before. And that can be hard especially when you are feeling pressured by people who are misusing that commandment to forgive to manipulate you into trusting them without making amends.

But you know what I realized this week? It absolutely is backed up by scripture. As one example, the parable of the master distributing talents to his servants is an example of trust and boundaries. Expectations were set, trust was extended. To the servants who utilize the talents wisely, he doubles them. He exercised trust in them. And when they showed they were worthy of that trust, he extended more trust. However, the servant who failed to meet those expectations had what was given to him taken away. Does that mean the master never forgave that servant? No it does not. It means a boundary was enforced when expectations were not met. And I absolutely believe that if we were to write an extended edition of that parable, if the last servant were to come back and express his sincere apologies for his actions, show that he understood where he had failed, and that he had a sincere desire to repair the relationship, repair the trust with his master, and that he had put forth the time and effort to show that he had a plan for how he was going to do better, that with time the master’s forgiveness could have grown into a new opportunity to exercise trust in that servant once again. And with evidence of change, that relationship could have been healed. But without the servant making the choice to apologize in a way that was truly penitent, then the master was under no obligation to trust that servant ever again. 

Far too often I see the commandment to forgive misused by people who think that those they have hurt have a duty to forgive them without any effort made on the part of the person who caused the offense. And should those people forgive them? Absolutely. Although I will say that it is not anyone's place to put a timeline on that forgiveness. However, it is critical that we understand that apologies still hold a critical place in this equation. 

Without apologies, forgiveness can still happen, but relationships die. Trust dies. Sincere apologies are like repentance. And the apology turns into a lie unless you are willing to put forth action to support the apology. Actions that address the hurt. Actions that show a desire to not only slap a band-aid on the situation but promote healing. Actions that show an understanding of how you made that person feel, and the desire not to make them feel that way again. Sincere apologies show that you care about the person, they show that you care about the relationship you have, whether it be professional or friendly or romantic, it doesn’t matter. Apologies show that you want to build something and not tear people down.

This is why repentance is so important to our Heavenly Father. It’s not because he needs us to say sorry for Him to forgive us. He absolutely can and does forgive us even when we do not apologize. It’s because He needs us to care enough about our relationship with Him to want to seek him, acknowledge what we did, whether accidentally or intentionally, repair the damage that was done, to understand Him, and seek to grow closer to Him in the process. That is why we need to repent. It’s not for His sake. It’s not so we can be forgiven. It’s so we can grow together with Him. It's because without repentance we can't love and respect Him. Without repentance we can't have the type of relationship with Him that He desires to have with us. 

And that is the model he has given us for our relationships here on earth. So the next time you tell yourself “I don’t need to apologize to that person,” let’s acknowledge that what you are saying is “I don’t care enough about that person to repair my relationship with them.” And sometimes, maybe that’s okay. Sometimes we need to put up boundaries and walk away. But if you aren’t willing to apologize, if you aren’t willing to put forth the work to repair what was broken, please don’t tell that person that you love them as though that fixes things. Because that is a narcissistic kind of love. That communicates a love that only cares about you and your needs and not theirs. Love without respect. And that’s not Christ-like love. Depending on the context and the relationship that can be extremely damaging and toxic. Even when we need to walk away... if we are truly seeking to be Christ-like, then our arms should be outstretched if the moment ever presents itself, that they are finally willing to repair things with us. "Knock and it shall be opened unto you."

I’m gonna end with a series of quotes I’ve been thinking about lately:

“The highest form of love is consideration. When someone thinks about how things would make you feel. Pays attention to detail. Holds you in regard when making decisions that could affect you. In any bond, how much they care about you can be found in how much they consider you.” 
Kira J

“If you are around people who can confidently speak up when your behavior is impacting them negatively, it means they have respect for themselves, and it means they are teaching you how to love them because they value you enough to keep you in their lives." 
Nina Grewal

“When a woman bravely reaches out to address something that hurts her, it's a precious gift. It's her saying, "I still care enough to fix this. I'm willing to fight for us." It's a profound chance for connection, for healing, and for mutual growth. But when that moment of vulnerability is met with anger, blame, or dismissal, it pushes her further away. Not just emotionally-but spiritually. Because nothing is more damaging to a woman's spirit than constantly being made to feel wrong for simply wanting to be treated right.” 
Unknown

3 Simple Rules to live by:
Love needs action.
Trust needs proof.
Sorry needs change.

Honestly I could share a dozen more, but I'm not sure it's worth the time right now. I have spent so much time and energy the last few years into reaching out to people when things hurt me. And more often than not I have been met with dismissal instead of the desire to reach understanding. Excuses are made instead of accountability shown. And afterwards, nothing changes. Each time I am expressing that I still care enough about that relationship to want to provide an opportunity for this to be fixed. And each time I find myself feeling more angry and then more detached. Not because I don't care, but because I have cared for too long and I'm not getting enough in return. That's a status quo that cannot be maintained. I don't know how to keep caring enough, and I don't know when to let go. We can't expect that we will always get apologies or real change. But we can choose who we trust. And once trust is broken, it takes more than "sorry" or love to fix it. It needs action, proof and change. 

Pain and Allies

I had the chance this weekend to attend a presentation on Supporting LGBTQ Latter-day Saints put on by a well known author/podcaster (or at least well-known by the LGBTQ+ crowd in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). While the presentation was good, I want to share a few thoughts I had from the dinner I attended with him beforehand. 

At dinner, he made a comment that he has a friend who is a doctor who made this observation:

"Pain is a friend to us as doctors. It tells us there's a problem that needs to be addressed." 

This was followed by the comment that the same should be true of church. If someone is having painful experiences at church, it tells us there are things we need to address. 

So let me ask you a rhetorical question. When you see someone struggling with their church experiences, are you asking yourself "what can be done to improve their experience?" or more personally "What can I do?" I think a lot of people at church tend to tell themselves one of these lines (to name a few): 

• people's experiences are their responsibility and not mine
• it's their job not to take offense
• they need to fix their attitude
• they need to repent
• if they just endure they'll be blessed
• it is what it is
• they just need more faith
• I am not my brother's keeper

I'm not saying those statements are necessarily categorically false. Perhaps they are true, at least some of the time. But if that is our primary attitude, I think we are unrighteously relieving ourselves of our duties to mourn with those that mourn, and to stand with those in need of comfort. 

I heard a snippet of a podcast today where a pastor was explaining that his ministry had come to feel they needed to change how they talked about their inclusion of LGBTQ+ members. His comment was that his ministry had become

"reticent of using words like full inclusion or affirming because they feel a little self-congratulatory. We finally settled on the word repentant. Our sense was that we had not done something wonderful. We had stopped doing something awful and you shouldn't get a Nobel prize for the release of slaves or stopping abusing your spouse. It wasn't an act of generosity on our part, it was an act of repentance. We didn't invite queer people to the sacrament, we finally joined them there."

Does that hit a little hard to you? Inclusion was something they should have been doing all along, not something to be pointed out so it can be lauded for bonus points. Inclusion was an act of necessary repentance. They realized action is expected and not just better than inaction. This leads me to something else he said that evening. I wish he mentioned it in his presentation.

"As an ally you take any arrows you can for queer people." 

 I've never really liked the word ally, and I'll tell you why. It means a lot of things. And I find that a lot of people only take the most shallow sense of the word to heart. At least in action, I find that it most often means "I'm not a jerk to gay people." or "I don't judge gay people." or maybe "I agree with you politically." None of those things actually say to me "I can trust that person to be there for me." Silence and inaction don't make you a hero just because you're not out actively sinning by being a jerk. Just like the phrases "full inclusion" and "affirming" from above, I tend to find the word "ally" a little self-congratulatory. Congratulations you're not a jerk. Should I give you a medal? Sorry if that hurts your feelings. But I think it's worth noting. You can be a nice person, and still not be an ally.

I had an experience last year where someone approached me to say that I totally had their support, but not publicly. And I think to myself, I bet she thinks she's an ally. I bet she pats herself on the back and says "I did good." Can I request that the word "ally" be taken one step further like he did above? If you are not willing to "take any arrows," if you are not willing to take actual action to try to improve the experiences of people who are on the receiving end of those arrows, then you are not an ally. I interacted with people in our church last year who I'm sure would call themselves "allies" and yet allowed themselves to be weaponized against me, protecting the anonymity even of the person throwing those arrows. There was no attempt to catch those arrows or shield me from them. Only a concern for "justice" which in the end proved unnecessary. If there had been a little more concern for me, then they would have delved a little deeper before acting and would have caught some of those arrows instead of handing them to me or driving them in. Instead, sentences that included "I'm here to support you." would be followed by sentiments like "well you have to admit it's your fault for being openly gay" or "you should have known this would happen."

The same people who, if I told them I was offended by some bigoted and/or homophobic comment someone had made at church, would respond "just choose not to take offense." Those were the same people coming to me and telling me I needed to "filter more" to avoid making people uncomfortable. Where was the attitude that they have a responsibility to "not take offense" then? If you're going to have that attitude, it ought to go both ways so you don't become a hypocrite.  There's a longer conversation that could take place on that subject, but I won't delve into it now. Suffice it to say, that I think it would be more accurate to say "don't hold onto offense" instead of "don't take offense." But that's not really the point at the moment.

I've never found church policy all that painful. What I find painful is people. People who talk about you instead of to your face, people who never admit they were wrong. People who don't prioritize showing people consideration and/or respect. People who never apologize. People who will do the easy thing any day like say "I support you" but won't do the hard thing and actually show up how people need them to. People who insist they are "loving you" by doing X despite the fact that you have repeatedly communicated that they need to do Y for you to feel loved. People who don't listen to understand. People who think their silence and inaction relieves them of any responsibility for the things they are allowing to be said and done around them.

That presentation, and speaker made me more sad than anything else (not his fault).. Because he made it sound so easy and so simple. His demeanor absolutely exuded love and acceptance and it was beautiful and healing. And yet I felt an overwhelming sense of "nothing is going to change, people won't change, people don't care and I don't know when or if I'll ever feel at church, the way he makes me feel." And no one presentation will ever be enough to help the people who need it, change.. Too many will miss the point when it counts. Of course the shiny silver lining perspective here is that every drop in the ocean counts.

I'm reminded of a leadership training I also attended this weekend, where one of the teachers was discussing the notions of "line of authority" and "line of communication" and without those, messages from above don't always reach the right people, and even if they do, people just think "not my responsibility" and it doesn't get done. I know announcements regarding this event were sent to all the stakes in our area and yet we only had maybe 50 people in attendance. Majority of those people were probably those with some connection to a queer loved one (or queer themselves). I wonder if most who saw the invitation just thought "well that's not my responsibility" or "well I'm already an ally (not a jerk), I don't need to attend that", and of course "Super Bowl is more important." I'm not saying people should have to attend every fireside. I know we all get pulled a dozen different directions and feel pulled too thin and time for ourselves is also important. There's also the simple fact that because there was no line of communication in place for this event, lots of people simply missed the memo. But I wonder how many stopped to consider the message those 50 people received last night when they looked around at the attendance, and realized that helping LGBTQ+ people feel supported was not a priority to very many people. I suppose I hope most there were just grateful for those who did come. And I am, grateful.

I'm sorry this blog wasn't the most warm and fuzzy of my blogs. But it's what was on my heart today.