“That’s not forgiveness; that’s revenge.”  Father, whose on the older side of old and on the happy side of holy, can speak those hard to hear words because the day to day battle’s of life have yielded a humble, gentle man. His words have the haunting power of the Holy Ghost.

It is true that there is a certain perverse pleasure in holding-on to a grudge.  Sulking off and licking the wound can become a ritual of sorts.  Forgiving does break into my world of remembered, if not treasured, trove of offenses.  What price the bounty for your absoultion? The very idea of Scott-free seems unfair.  So what cost forgiveness?

Will a litany of the pain I’ve suffered suffice? That doesn’t really touch-on just how bad you are for hurting me (real or imagined.) Do I get a chance to tell you?  Still, that doesn’t even come to tit-for-tat.  If I do my generous deed, can I still take the memory out and feel self-justified?  Or will my good angels shake a finger at me?  Letting you off my hook  would be easier if I could see you squirm a bit.

When I was kinder and gentler, I would have asked, “What would Jesus do?  My day to day seems to have hardened  my heart.  A pound of flesh, that’s the price I put on my forgiveness.  Hmmm………Father is right.  That’s not forgiveness.  That’s revenge!