I was out with some of my junior leaders last night, having a “mandatory fun” event at a restaurant near our Reserve Center. The topic turned to our experiences with a sister Service, which—of late—was causing us a great headache and a lot of extra taxpayer money trying to fix a problem we didn’t create.
That’s when I started sharing about all of the negative experiences I have had with Officers from this sister Service. My mind went down memory lane to a trail of events that gave me a bad taste in my mouth: first, a couple of Officers in my last unit who didn’t understand the battle; then, the one in the unit before who pretended to care but really just wanted to look good; then, the one in that tactical unit who falsely accused me; then, the ones I met on Active Duty who seemed to be dead weight… although I had a short flash of positive memories come up from two other experience with this sister Service, more negative memories flooded back on top and overwhelmed them. The minuses outweighed the pluses, and the logical conclusion was clearly marked in my mind. That’s when I realized that this trail of logic was actually a trail of unforgiveness.
My subordinates tried to make me feel better by saying that perhaps my anger was justified today because of the problems created by this sister Service for my unit, but I knew that was not true. My anger was all the stronger because of previous unforgiveness I harbored towards this sister Service. Was it tough for me to get along with “them”? Yes, their culture was way different than my Service. Did I have lots of disappointment at how “their” leaders lead, and how “they” processed the world around them? Yes, they routinely did not meet my expectations. Was I justified in some of my assessment that their processes and values routinely caused frustration for their sister Services? Perhaps. Yet, none of that warranted the extreme anger I felt in my heart.
In that moment, I remembered that forgiveness—the sending away of a sense that someone owes me to fix something they did to me—is my choice. I don’t have to wait until “they” pay what they owe me before I forgive them; in fact, that day may never come, and I may need to accept that. Fortunately, I can choose to wipe their slate clean today, even if they don’t ever deserve it.
“In that moment, I remembered that forgiveness—the sending away of a sense that someone owes me to fix something they did to me—is my choice.”
tenaybenes.com
After all, doesn’t Yeshua do that for me, all the time? How many times do I disappoint or owe people a debt without meaning to? How many times do I make mistakes, just like “they” do? Hopefully, I also learn from them, so that I make them less over time.
That’s why today, I choose to pray this prayer, and I will keep on praying it until it works:
God, I break agreement with a spirit of unforgiveness in Yeshua’s name. I cancel every programming of unforgiveness and send into my long-term memory any experiential, emotion-laden memories I have about this sister Service. I declare that their slate is wiped clean, so that I may see them with a renewed mind, again. Thank you for setting me free of the torment of a history of disappointment. Amen.