Thoughts on Reconciliation - Part XII: Reconciling with Ourselves

I suffer from depression. It's a horrid disease - this little voice in the back of your head, always probing, always robbing you of joy. Ironically, it's an addiction...you seek the misery. Not directly, but in some strange way, you find comfort in the very thing that makes you so uncomfortable. On one hand, you absolutely HATE it...fight it, seek to rid yourself of it. On the other hand, you just want to give in, crawl into your little cave and just live in the darkness and cold. It's an emotionally draining battle.

I've struggled now for a little over a year, dealing with a personal issue that brings so much guilt and shame to me. It's no secret that it deals with reconciliation, else I wouldn't spend so much time writing these blogs. Yet one area that I've glossed over, not spent a lot of time considering, is reconciling with ourselves.

You see, I've hurt someone I care very much about. While we were together, I was not yet a Christian and we broke up shortly after I became one. I wasn't living a wicked life, per se, but it certainly wasn't based in Christian values. Needless to say, this upset her very much and she decided that she was better off without me in her life. That's when the guilt really set in. I had seen how much my sin affected her, it was one of the reasons I became a Christian (seeing her example). But it seems to have affected her more than I realized, and she broke off all contact with me. It HURT. A LOT. We had talked about marriage, and now we couldn't even face one another. I had made a vow to honor and cherish her, and I wanted so badly to keep that vow. Every time I see my friends getting married, having kids, holding hands, etc., all I can see is what I lost, what I gave up because of my sin.

I've struggled, trying to understand how someone so godly, so steeped in faith, could behave in such a heartless way. Couldn't she see how much this was hurting me? Didn't she have any compassion? Couldn't she at least talk to me? I searched the Bible for answers. I've prayed constantly over the matter. I tried to make contact with her, hoping time would heal some of the wounds. It didn't. My attempts only made the situation worse. The more I studied, the more I sought God's will (so I thought). I tried to follow the biblical commands of reconciliation, following the pattern in Matthew 18. I sought out mutual friends, leaders in the church. No one seemed interested in helping.

Mind you, I don't want her to do something she doesn't want to do. I don't want to force her into a relationship she doesn't want. I care about her and just want her happiness. Part of me is just worried that she's running from her own sense of guilt, that it will haunt her. Part of me needs to talk to get over my sense of guilt.

The other day in Bible study, we were discussing marriage and divorce. My pastor made the comment that when one party abandons the relationship, there is no longer any need to maintain vows. We are absolved of responsibility. The ESV Study Bible (Crossway 2008) has the following notes on 1 Corinthians 7:15 -

1 Cor. 7:15 let it be so. Paul advises the Christian spouse not to create strife by trying to manipulate reconciliation with an unbelieving spouse who has left the marriage. not enslaved. This at least means that the believing spouse is not obligated to seek reconciliation to the unbelieving spouse who abandoned him or her (see v. 11); but the majority of interpreters now think that the phrase also implies the freedom to obtain a legal divorce (if that has not already happened) and the freedom to marry someone else. Jesus' teaching on divorce also appears to allow remarriage when sexual immorality has prompted the divorce (see notes on Matt. 5:31–32; 19:9). Peace in the widest sense is meant, in the OT sense that “all is well” in one's life and circumstances, which is the OT concept of shalom (see note on John 14:27). Most interpreters hold that God releases the believing spouse from the twin unending distresses of (a) a lifelong vain hope of reconciling with an unbeliever who has abandoned the believing spouse, and (b) a lifelong prohibition against enjoying the blessings of marriage again. Other interpreters, emphasizing 1 Cor. 7:39, hold that remarriage is never allowed after divorce.

I've contemplated deeply why I still want to reconcile with someone who outright abandoned me. In the context of the above notes, it would seem that having followed Matthew 18 as far as I could, I should no longer seek to create strife by further attempts to reconcile. Yet my heart is still deeply torn.

I want to be angry. I want to let the hate grow over my heart. Feel something other than this deep heart wrenching hurt that I wake up to every day. She abandoned me. She made a promise and broke it. She's a hypocrite. A hateful monster. It's other people's fault, non-Christians she associates with. It's the Pastor's fault for not exercising proper biblical discipline or reconciliation. She's no longer a believer. Etc. Anything to build up the resentment and bitterness that can shove aside the hurt in my heart. Yet I can't. I see her, and I feel nothing but love in my heart. I might stir up anger for a minute, but it quickly fades away as I remember the good times (and sometimes even the bad).

Yet that love brings hurt. Why?

I think in large part it's my own guilt. This is someone I loved, and I hurt them. And the more I tried to reconcile with them, the more I ended up hurting them. Thus the more I feel guilty. See that sick twisted pattern of depression?

Yet the bible tells us we shouldn't feel this way:

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. (Romans 8:1)

Depression is a sick and twisted disease. It has a nasty way of fooling us into wrong thinking. I read the bible and see:

Now if anyone has caused pain, he has caused it not to me, but in some measure—not to put it too severely—to all of you. For such a one, this punishment by the majority is enough, so you should rather turn to forgive and comfort him, or he may be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. So I beg you to reaffirm your love for him. (2 Corinthians 2:5-8)

and I want to point the finger - she's bringing the guilt. See, if she'd just reconcile, I'd be free from "excessive sorrow". The consequences of my actions follow me, haunt me. If only I could be rid of some of these consequences, the guilt could go away. I fail to remember there's no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus.

In some measure, I think it's easy to reconcile with one another. At the very least, we've seen that sometimes reconciliation doesn't have to equal restoration, that parties can separate and still be at peace with one another (e.g. Abram and Lot, Paul and Barnabas). There's some token of forgiveness there (though I still argue the church in general has a very poor understanding of true biblical forgiveness at times). But what happens when that person we need to reconcile with is ourselves? What happens when we let ourselves down? We certainly can't separate from ourselves. When the voice on your shoulder is constantly putting you down, where do you go to escape?

We often don't think of reconciliation as a process we have to go through with ourselves. We read passages like Matthew 18, and fail to consider how to apply it to ourselves. Yet those very same principles apply. We are to go to ourselves first...then to others, then to the church. We are to seek Christ, and know that there's no condemnation in Him. And we have to read the Scriptures, for it's through the Scriptures that the Spirit speaks to us. We have to keep at this process. Reminding ourselves daily that we are forgiven, and that God has reconciled us to himself, which is what is most important. It's hard, believe me, I know. It feels impossible sometimes. But then again, that's one reason I started this blog - to try and work out a lot of these issues for myself. I'm not here to condemn others, only trying to figure out how to keep from condemning myself.

Meanwhile, I lift my shield and raise my sword, and prepare for yet another onslaught.