A couple of months ago I was given a surprise gift. Participating in some research, I was asked to describe my experience of friendship and mental health.
"I'd like you to be able to talk as freely as possible" the researcher stated, "I'm just here to listen".
And listen he did. He maintained eye contact, he didn't interrupt, he sat with my silences, he prompted with gentle, insightful questions, he reflected my words and emotions, he offered no judgement. All I could infer from his response was kindness and acceptance.
And, whilst revisiting some specific memories, in place of the usual increasing heart rate, confusion and fear, I became aware of a sense of safety. The passage of time, combined with this researcher's ability to create an affirming atmosphere, was enabling previously disordered memories to settle into a narrative I could understand.
Now I understand that a researcher in this area should demonstrate active listening skills - but this man was GOOD and he seemed to care. I’m still thankful for this encounter and I’m also inspired. I want to listen that well, not just in the counselling room, but with friends and (perhaps the biggest test of all) with family.
But, as is frequently the case, I also feel frustrated. Why don't we run into this kind of experience more often? Particularly in our churches, why do so many confide, "There's no one I can really talk to about this"? If we are eager to love others, why aren't we overflowing with people willing to commit to the hard work of listening? Carl Rogers spent a lifetime pioneering psychological research and remained convinced that simply listening with non-judgemental understanding and empathy was one of the best methods, if not the best method, of helping people. So, if we genuinely want to help, why don’t we value listening more highly? Why do we make heroes out of those who preach and lead and run around attending oh so many meetings without ever evaluating their capacity to hear what another individual is saying?
I believe that every time someone shares their experience and, instead of trying to listen, we hand out opinions, solutions and judgement, we are choosing to forget that in front of us is a person made in the image of God.
Every time we strive to really hear however, to work at understanding what the world looks like from another perspective, we are offering a gift - a gift that can soothe loneliness and pain, nurture self esteem and confidence and facilitate healing and growth.
Somehow, the version of Christianity I'm familiar with doesn't seem to give more than a passing nod to the profound value of listening. I think that means we're hurting people who long to be heard. Surely we need to learn a different way.
I'm definitely reluctant to write about the positive aspects of forgiveness and I've been trying to understand why. It probably has a lot to do with the way forgiveness is brandished at hurting people, sometimes maliciously, but often by well-intentioned, though somewhat prescriptive individuals.
Also, my practice of forgiveness is just that, my practice. It is simply the way that works for me in this current moment and it may bear no resemblance to what someone else needs to be doing right now.
I have had to balance decades of premature forgiving, mostly out of fear of the consequences of not forgiving, with a newly discovered freedom to be angry about injustice and boundary violations. For years I lived as if those two things were mutually exclusive, now I'm working out a more nuanced approach.
I'm in a place where I'm holding hurt, that complex entanglement of anger and sadness, and allowing it to teach me about healthy patterns of relating to myself and others. At the same time, I'm nurturing forgiveness toward those who have wronged me, because it's something I want to do. I'm not afraid anymore, of the consequences of unforgiveness. Those dire warnings I heard as a child about being riddled with bitterness, or ill health, or worse if I didn't immediately forgive, are losing their stranglehold.
There are, undoubtedly benefits to forgiving others. Studies have shown that genuine forgiveness, can bring improvements to mental and physical health*. But anger and sadness may also serve a useful purpose. These emotions teach us where it might be wise for our boundaries to begin and end. They teach us about our values, how we want to treat others and how we need to be treated. In this context, I am more able to truly forgive, instead of rushing through the process as a sacrificial offering to a God who will punish me if I don't follow the right steps.
I've often been told that God can't begin healing a person who hasn't forgiven. I no longer believe that to be true. In fact, I think we discredit God's wisdom and character when we make such statements. But without the baggage of those old beliefs I am now free to choose. Forgiveness or unforgiveness. For me, this is the only place where forgiveness can be genuine anyway.
* E.L. Worthington Jr & S.J. Sandage ~ Forgiveness and Spirituality in Psychotherapy: A Relational Approach.
