Grudges

A colleague once visited with me and brought up the topic of holding grudges. I perceive him to be a deeply sensitive and kindly person, one who wants life to be gentle and beautiful but carries deep hurts connected to various experiences in his life.

It was he who brought up the grudge-holding issue. We were having a follow-up conversation to an e-mail he'd sent me mentioning his awareness of the upcoming anniversary of an incident that had been very painful for him.

"I just don't want to hold grudges," he said. And then he started spilling. "My mother used to hold grudges, and I don't want to be like her. I used to tell her--kindly, of course--, 'Mom, just let it go! What good does it do for you to hold grudges? It only hurts you.' And she would say, 'Well... I don't know. I guess I should.' But then she would just go back to nursing her hurts, even when she was old. I don't want to be like that. There's no good to be gotten in holding onto grudges."

I could see him struggling, struggling so hard against his upbringing, against his tendencies, against the personality he may have inherited from his mother. He was trying so hard to be resolute, to deliberately let things go that he felt to be unjust, unkind, or ugly. But he remembers each one. He started to recount some, but stopped himself. I could almost see the pictures of them flit across his face as he referred obliquely to the many instances over the years that have caused grief.

My colleague was trying so hard to cut the bindings to the burdens that piled, invisible, on his back. Although I don't know this for sure, I think they may still be there despite his war against repeating generational tendencies.

Heredity is so strong, family dynamics so powerful. I think there are a lot of people who can name things in their family DNA that they'd like to leave behind. There are a lot of people who, as they get older, come to realize that the family DNA is more powerful and controlling than they could ever have imagined in their earlier idealism, when they thought they could pick and choose what they'd take from their heritage.

I talked with Husband about this. "What do you think?" I asked. I knew from previous conversations that he'd thought quite a bit about the issue.

"I don't think psychology helps," he said. He explained that when you look at yourself until you understand where certain things come from and how they have affected your life, you get the idea that you can then tinker with them and make a change. But understanding doesn't necessarily bring the power to make a change. In some ways, it deepens the sense of being trapped.

"I think the only hope is the gospel," he said. He went on to expand on that (Husband is rarely cryptic when it comes to conceptual things). Matthew 6 records Jesus' statements about how God takes care of all our daily needs, and that we are to "seek first His kingdom and his righteousness." So if we'll fix our eyes on Jesus instead of ourselves, seeking His grace and seeking to know Him, the other things will fall into line over time, just as when you pick up the first link of a chain off a table, the other attached links fall into a straight line below it. We are flawed, but we have been told where to fix our gaze for salvation. Everything can fall into place behind that, because that salvation is from not only our sins, but from the effects of all the other influences in our lives, including the unjust, the unkind and the ugly.

How can you continue to hold a grudge against anyone else if your eyes are fixed unwaveringly on the compassionate face of Jesus?

Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we're in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God. Heb. 12:2 (Message)