A friend of mine suggested that we build a
fort. It was a magnificent little structure, but only we might have
characterized it as such. It was actually little more than a wooden shack. But
we were innovative. We decided we needed a trap door in the floor of the hut,
and we made it so. The trap door led to an underground tunnel, constructed of
55 gallon drums, with the ends knocked out. We were getting downright fancy!
David and I actually spent the night in the tunnel, at times.
But we were far from being finished with
our work of art. Some adolescents are subject to a mild form of Paranoia, and
we were no exception. I came up with the idea of setting Vietnam-style traps
around the little building. We set twelve or fifteen of the traps, digging foot
deep holes, and laying blocks of wood, peppered with nails in the bottom of
each. Finally, the holes were covered over with small branches and grass.
I asked my mother to visit our hut, and
she finally found time to walk the two hundred yards from the house, to
investigate our work of art. As she walked slowly along the trail, with my
three year old sister in her arms, one of her feet disappeared from sight! I
had forgotten the large trap we had dug on the main trail! She screamed,
immediately dropped to a seated position, and began to wrench the nasty thing
from her foot. Just as quickly she began to confront my stupidity.
“Royce,
what’s wrong with you? What were you thinking? If your sister had been walking
ahead of me, these nails would have gone totally through her foot!”
I can’t imagine why, but my Mother decided
not to tour my fort that day. Somehow she regained her footing and composure,
and stormed off towards our house. On her way out of our “contonement area” she
was heard to say,
“Son, you had better cover every one of your traps. This
isn’t right. You could hurt someone seriously!”
Well, you can imagine the shock that
registered on my face. What had happened to her wasn’t my purpose or agenda.
Our little traps were meant for “our enemies.”
So, I set to work covering over the traps.
Unfortunately for me, I hadn’t diagrammed the locations of these little
weapons. I fell into a “woe is me” attitude, and begin to think that I deserved
the same fate as my Mother. I remember saying,
“I hope I fall in one.”
Well, I
had covered several traps when, you guessed it… one of my feet disappeared from
sight. I had fallen in to my own trap.
We rationalize and justify our
vindictiveness and bitterness towards those we once, or never loved. We store
up those emotions ‘til they exude from our very pores. We unleash our
retribution both verbally, and non-verbally. Unforgiveness rules the day. So
like those traps I set for unsuspecting foes.
Scientists, medical doctors and
researchers have learned much about the effects of negative emotions. We know
now, that unforgiveness and bitterness turns inward to inhibit our ability to
properly relate to other human beings, and make cognitive judgments. We can
develop anxiety and depression. Some experience organic disorders, such as
Arthritis, and possibly, various forms of Dementia. So like my experience of
falling into my own trap. I was my own worst enemy that day.
In terms of
unforgiveness, we suffer “stuckness” that inhibits our ability to mature and
move forward. The “unforgiven” may go on with their lives, never realizing the
depth of our emotions towards them. While an unforgiven memory or event prevents
the “victim” from fulfilling God-given expectations for their life.
Like falling asleep with our feet in a wet
gray mixture, we awake to find it’s concrete.
By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "Unconventional Devotions" Copyright 2005
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