“As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”

When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed. One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan. Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”

(Luke 17:12-19)

My wife arrived home with flowers more beautiful than any I had ever given her. A dozen roses: pink, white, yellow, red, orange. They burst from the vase amid baby’s breath and leafy filler. And she wore a smile that told me she felt appreciated.

My wife is a career counselor and coach.  She helps people figure out why they can’t get employment or keep it. Each month she sees a dozen clients pass her way who struggle with issues related to work and home. Some lack schooling. Others perseverance. Still others carry deep wounds from hurtful pasts that make them seethe with anger—and it shows. For many their hurts act like leprosy, gnawing away at their vocational potential.

By the time clients leave the course they have picked up important insights into their personalities, how they manage time (or not), how they handle conflict (or don’t), as well as interview and resume-writing skills. During the program some people huff and gruff and argue “I know all this,” or “The problem isn’t me; it’s been my four bosses!” and they leave largely unchanged. Others show a more humble posture, listening, learning, soaking it in.

One attentive client was Nadia, and within a few weeks of finishing the program, she landed her dream job as office administrator and bookkeeper for a small construction firm. Days later she returned with the roses as a thank you. My wife will see a hundred clients a year, but only a handful return to say thanks. Like the nine lepers who were healed, the other ninety-some are busy about their lives, forgetting whom they might thank.

It really doesn’t matter who we are or what we’ve accomplished, we’re all lepers in some way. And along our journey others have helped. A teacher, a coach, a parent, a friend. May we be thankful for those who have invested in us, and let them know it.

Question: Who’s patient witness has touched your life? Who might you hand a dozen roses?

What are you craving? Intimacy? Destiny? Meaning? Explore your cravings.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

Above my 19-year old son’s bed, on the wall, hangs an orange “slow-moving vehicle” sign. It’s the kind you see on the back of tractors and hay wagons. If you knew Clark, you might smile, because his demeanor is laid back, go-with-the-flow, and thoughtful.

We decorate our homes with artifacts that signal our interests, and even our personalities, that’s nothing new. What struck me, however, was the message the sign had for me. I have been recently going through some minor health concerns—nothing that has kept me from work or family—but ailment that has slowed me down. “Maybe I should put that slow-moving sign on my back,” I thought.

While I’m not one to interpret God’s messages through every little image or icon that crosses my path (in fact, this isn’t healthy), I thought it interesting that the orange triangle gave cause to pause on my own season of life. The author of Ecclesiastes mentions seasons of life we all encounter: times of birth and death, pain and healing, planting and uprooting, mourning and dancing, searching and quitting to search, among others.

Ever wonder what God’s season is for you just now? I think we sometimes ignore his signs along the way, signs that tell us it’s time to slow down and rest in Him, signs to yield areas of our lives we desperately cling to rather than giving them up, signs to merge our efforts with others in community to accomplish something together, and signs to not park our gifts but to put them to His service.

And for some of us, we stand at a crossroads, with one arrow pointing to “a meaningful journey with God” and another pointing to “my way.” For while God has seasons for us to enjoy or endure, he also expects us to make choices along the road.

Questions: When you lie down on your bed at night, and look at the wall above your head, what sign do you see?

Do you need to talk to someone? We are here to listen.

“As He was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met Him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”

When He saw them, He said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed. One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan. Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then He said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well” (Luke 17:12-19).

My wife arrived home with flowers more beautiful than any I had ever given her. A dozen roses: pink, white, yellow, red, orange. They burst from the vase amid baby’s breath and leafy filler. And she wore a smile that told me she felt appreciated.

My wife is a career counselor and coach.  She helps people figure out why they can’t get employment or keep it. Each month she sees a dozen clients pass her way who struggle with issues related to work and home. Some lack schooling. Others perseverance. Still others carry deep wounds from hurtful pasts that make them seethe with anger—and it shows. For many their hurts act like leprosy, gnawing away at their vocational potential.

By the time clients leave the course they have picked up important insights into their personalities, how they manage time (or not), how they handle conflict (or don’t), as well as interview and resume-writing skills. During the program some people huff and gruff and argue “I know all this,” or “The problem isn’t me; it’s been my four bosses!” and they leave largely unchanged. Others show a more humble posture, listening, learning, soaking it in.

One attentive client was Nadia, and within a few weeks of finishing the program, she landed her dream job as office administrator and bookkeeper for a small construction firm. Days later she returned with the roses as a thank you. My wife will see a hundred clients a year, but only a handful return to say thanks. Like the nine lepers who were healed, the other ninety-some are busy about their lives, forgetting whom they might thank.

It really doesn’t matter who we are or what we’ve accomplished, we’re all lepers in some way. And along our journey others have helped. A teacher, a coach, a parent, a friend. May we be thankful for those who have invested in us, and let them know about it.

Question: Who has touched you? Who might you hand a dozen roses?

Is your life out of focus? Do you need to refocus your priorities?

“God said to Abram, ‘As for me, this is my covenant with you: You will be the father of many nations. … I will establish my covenant as an everlasting covenant between me and you and your descendant after you for the generations to come, to be your God and the God of your descendants after you’”  (Genesis 17:4, 7 & 8).

I was supposed to be up at Whistler today. You may remember images of Whistler from the 2010 Winter Olympics near Vancouver. While the city lacked snow that year, Whistler didn’t, and a year later now the whole region has had piles of the white stuff. Beautiful stuff. ski-able stuff. And this year my good friend and I made plans to “visit Mecca,” where Whistler—and neighboring Blackcomb Mountain—support twenty-five lifts, two hundred runs, and vistas prairie people put on placements.

Instead, I sit at home, with a sick son down the hall sleeping soundly. Yesterday Eric began feeling nauseous at school mid-afternoon. It came on him like a storm, and he was soon losing his lunch and feeling horrible. Once home, the pattern didn’t stop, and for four hours he was between couch and bathroom. My wife knew Eric was becoming dehydrated, so she encouraged him to drink water and a re-hydrant with electrolytes. But neither stayed down. Eventually we took him to emergency where they gave him an IV drip of fluids spiked with anti-nausiants. And now, the following morning, he sleeps.

Family experts tell us that parent-child relationships are lop-sided covenants because children need and need and parents give and give, yet few think this is unfair. And that’s what’s going on here. But don’t think I’m a saintly martyr. My first thought was I could ski if my wife took care of Eric, but she had commitments she couldn’t change. I even reasoned that a senior in high school should be able to be sick at home alone. But down deep I knew he needed adult attention. So today I’m a dad, not a skier.

In Genesis 17 God promises Abraham a similar lop-sided deal. “I’ll be your God, Abe, through thin and thick, sickness or health, when you don’t love me back, and make stupid mistakes. You’re a needy guy, Abe, as are your children, but I’m committed to your clan for the long haul.” And God has kept his promise.

We make similar covenants with our spouses, our workplaces, and our churches. Almost anywhere we commit to others for their benefit, and not expect an equal return, is a lop-sided agreement. If we renege on them, we may gain personal freedom, but at what cost?

Question: What lop-sided covenants are you committed to? And who is committed to you in this way? Have you considered God’s promise to be with you always?

“Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator.” (Colossians 3:9-10)

A few years ago I put on a new identity by becoming a Canadian citizen. To qualify I was required to account for my whereabouts since moving to Canada, produce a birth certificate proving my United States origin, study a booklet about Canadian history, culture, and geography, take and pass a test, and stand before a judge to promise to be the best Canadian I could be. Soon I held official papers indicating my new status as a Canuck.

But in my other pocket, I still held a U.S. passport. That’s right. U.S. law allows its citizens to hold multiple citizenships. But it wasn’t always this way. For several decades Americans were required to revoke their U.S. citizenship if they became a citizen of any other country. During that era I chose not to become Canadian because I valued my American roots too much to let them go.

I kind of liked it that old way.

The old way required one to commit, to engage, to embrace. It required you to declare if you were one or the other, American or Canadian, and to put your legal identity where your heart was. The old way didn’t allow you to waffle, to play one identity today, and the other tomorrow.  By contrast, the new law allows you to flip flop. Today, when border crossing into the U.S., I can show my U.S. passport. Upon returning I can flash my Canadian one. Just who am I really?

While the parallel isn’t exact, the similarity to our identity as humans is unavoidable. We all begin with the baseline identity of being made in God’s image (imago dei) yet we are still in desperate need for renewal because of sin. The Good News is that when we recognize our failures, welcome God’s forgiveness, and embrace a new identity in Christ, we begin to shrug off the old self and take on the new. I like how Paul says it in Colossians as he explains why we should speak truthfully. Why? Because “you have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator.”

Paul understands that this shifting and shaping of identity is a journey; we are being renewed. It’s a process. Knowing we are in a new relationship with God is a sure thing, yet growing in a new relationship with God requires us to commit, engage, and embrace his ways, study his book, stand strong when tested, and act on God’s promise of new life.

You will never find a lost passport and wonder whose it is. Their name is right there on the first page.  The question is, Where is that person on their journey? Are they embracing and acting on their new identity, or are they clinging to the old one?

TAKE THE NEXT STEP: Who does God say you are?

Question: Have you welcomed God’s forgiveness in your life to enjoy new identity in him? If so, where are you now on your journey?

Do you struggle with the deep darkness of depression and find yourself without hope?

“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God” (Psalms 20:7).

A few weeks ago I was flipping through the New Year’s edition of a popular sports magazine and came across a list of famous athletes and coaches who died in 2010. Even if one isn’t a big sports fan, it would be hard not to recognize names such as John Wooden, George Steinbrenner, Don Meredith, and Manute Bol. Most of the deceased were mature in years and died of natural causes.

Yet other young personalities passed away under more grievous conditions. Some fell to heart attack—an irony among people committed to excellent physical conditioning. Yet MLB pitcher Jose Lima, NBA guard Quintin Dailey (49), and NFL defenseman Gaines Adams (26) died when their hearts gave out.

Still others took their lives when life’s problems seemed insurmountable. NBA player Mel Turpin (49), sprinter Antonio Pettigrew (42), and boxer Edwin Valero (28) did so. Most sobering was seeing that LPGA golfer Erica Glasberg (25) had once been named NCAA freshman of the year in college, and was twice All-American took her own life. The article said she “struggled to adapt to life on the LPGA tour.”

What many of us would give to be Freshman of the Year in any sport, or All-American even once. And yet success can breed expectations for ourselves, and from others, which, if we don’t live up to, might lead us to think we are less than we should be.

But it’s more than just expectations. Success can also bring wealth, and with wealth may come the burden of privilege and entitlement. When life doesn’t continue to deliver in spades, we can become anxious, or worse, embittered.

My sense is that our successes can lead us to place our skills and smarts and achievements above God so we begin to trust ourselves more and Him less.

The prophet Isaiah may have had this in mind when he warned the Israelites not to run to or depend on the wealth and technology of the Egyptians, their neighbors to the south. He wrote:

“Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help, who rely on horses, who trust in the multitude of their chariots and in the great strength of their horsemen, but do not look to the Holy One of Israel, or seek help from the LORD” (Isaiah 31:1-3).

Whether someone else’s horses or chariots, or our own accomplishments and success, the warning still holds. God save us from our successes.

Question: Where do you ultimately put your trust? Has your success in any way become your failure?

“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.” (Psalms 20:7)

A few weeks ago I was flipping through the New Year’s edition of a popular sports magazine and came across a list of famous athletes and coaches who died in 2010. Even if one isn’t a big sports fan, it would be hard not to recognize names such as John Wooden, George Steinbrenner, Don Meredith, and Manute Bol. Most of the deceased were mature in years and died of natural causes.

Yet other young personalities passed away under more grievous conditions. Some fell to heart attack—an irony among people committed to excellent physical conditioning. Yet MLB pitcher Jose Lima, NBA guard Quintin Dailey (49), and NFL defenseman Gaines Adams (26) died when their hearts gave out.
Still others took their lives when life’s problems seemed insurmountable. NBA player Mel Turpin (49), sprinter Antonio Pettigrew (42), and boxer Edwin Valero (28) did so. Most sobering was seeing that LPGA golfer Erica Glasberg (25) had once been named NCAA freshman of the year in college, and was twice All-American took her own life. The article said she “struggled to adapt to life on the LPGA tour.”

What many of us would give to be Freshman of the Year in any sport, or All-American even once. And yet success can breed expectations for ourselves, and from others, which, if we don’t live up to, might lead us to think we are less than we should be.

But it’s more than just expectations. Success can also bring wealth, and with wealth may come the burden of privilege and entitlement. When life doesn’t continue to deliver in spades, we can become anxious, or worse, embittered.

My sense is that our successes can lead us to place our skills and smarts and achievements above God so we begin to trust ourselves more and Him less.

The prophet Isaiah may have had this in mind when he warned the Israelites not to run to or depend on the wealth and technology of the Egyptians, their neighbors to the south. He wrote:

“Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help, who rely on horses, who trust in the multitude of their chariots and in the great strength of their horsemen, but do not look to the Holy One of Israel, or seek help from the LORD.” (Isaiah 31:1-3)

Whether someone else’s horses or chariots, or our own accomplishments and success, the warning still holds. God save us from our successes.

TAKE THE NEXT STEP: What do you base your self-worth on?

Question: Where do you ultimately put your trust? Has your success in any way become your failure?

About the Author: Bill Strom

Searching for meaning to existence? We want to pray for you.

“Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator” (Colossians 3:9-10).

A few years ago I put on a new identity by becoming a Canadian citizen. To qualify I was required to account for my whereabouts since moving to Canada, produce a birth certificate proving my United States origin, study a booklet about Canadian history, culture, and geography, take and pass a test, and stand before a judge to promise to be the best Canadian I could be. Soon I held official papers indicating my new status as a Canuck.

But in my other pocket, I still held a U.S. passport. That’s right. U.S. law allows its citizens to hold multiple citizenships. But it wasn’t always this way. For several decades Americans were required to revoke their U.S. citizenship if they became a citizen of any other country. During that era I chose not to become Canadian because I valued my American roots too much to let them go.

I kind of liked it that old way.

The old way required one to commit, to engage, to embrace. It required you to declare if you were one or the other, American or Canadian, and to put your legal identity where your heart was. The old way didn’t allow you to waffle, to play one identity today, and the other tomorrow.  By contrast, the new law allows you to flip flop. Today, when border crossing into the U.S., I can show my U.S. passport. Upon returning I can flash my Canadian one. Just who am I really?

While the parallel isn’t exact, the similarity to our identity as humans is unavoidable. We all begin with the baseline identity of being made in God’s image (imago dei) yet we are still in desperate need for renewal because of sin. The Good News is that when we recognize our failures, welcome God’s forgiveness, and embrace a new identity in Christ, we begin to shrug off the old self and take on the new. I like how Paul says it in Colossians as he explains why we should speak truthfully. Why? Because “you have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator.”

Paul understands that this shifting and shaping of identity is a journey; we are being renewed. It’s a process. Knowing we are in a new relationship with God is a sure thing, yet growing in a new relationship with God requires us to commit, engage, and embrace his ways, study his book, stand strong when tested, and act on God’s promise of new life.

You will never find a lost passport and wonder whose it is. Their name is right there on the first page.  The question is, where is that person on their journey? Are they embracing and acting on their new identity, or are they clinging to the old one?

TAKE THE NEXT STEP: Who does God say you are?

Questions: Have you welcomed God’s forgiveness in your life to enjoy new identity in him? If so, where are you now on your journey?

About the Author Bill Strom

Does your career own you?

Fortunately sheer hours do not determine a workaholic, but workaholics definitely work longer than most. What sets them apart is their sense of being out of control, as well as valuing busyness over relationships. Dr. Bryan Robinson, a leading researcher on work and relationships, defines workaholism as “a compulsive and progressive, potentially fatal disorder characterized by self-imposed demands, compulsive overworking, inability to regulate work habits, and overindulgence in work to the exclusion and detriment of intimate relationships and major life activities.”

What about you? Do you tend to:
• Feel rushed, busy, and multi-tasked?
• Work more than socialize?
• Hate being interrupted from your work?
• Feel guilty when you’re not working?
• Get impatient when you’re not “in control”?
• Become upset when others don’t measure up to your work standards?
A“yes” to some or any of these questions may signal a workaholic spirit.

Who Cares? Isn’t Work a Virtue?

True, work is good, important, and necessary. Right from the start God gave Adam and Eve the task to steward the garden. In the book of Genesis it says he placed Adam in Eden “to work it and take care of it.” We all know that a garden grows better when we add fresh soil, till packed earth, and spread moist compost. You can tell when a garden has received watchful, effortful attention.

We also know that healthy work gives us a sense of purpose and accomplishment, and earns us an income, which makes us feel good. Without work, everyday life would bump to a stop, for working gives us clean homes, kept parks, safe roads, and productive businesses. The place where work turns from virtue to vice is in our heart when we allow it to consume us, rather than us engaging it for our own directed purposes.

Okay, so can hard work really hurt my marriage?

Well that depends on what you’re working hard at. If you’re working diligently at your career, but sloughing off in your relationships, then yes, you’re headed for trouble. What does it look like to be engrossed with your job, but coasting in your relationships? Here are some signs.

• You ask someone a question, but miss their answer because your head is “somewhere else.”
• You spend little if any time thinking about your loved ones’ needs and wants.
• You tend to forget, ignore, or minimize birthdays, reunions, anniversaries or holidays in favor of work.
• You identify more with your position at work than your role as spouse, parent, or friend.
• Your spouse and kids cover for you when you’re absent from public family gatherings.
• When you’re home, you feel emotionally drained and detached from those around you.
• Your family has to “tip toe” around you lest you blow up at some minor offence.

The cancer at the root of these symptoms may be that we think careers take work, but marriage and family life are easy. A good, happy relationship does not just spring to life when we meet Mr. Right, or Miss Ideal.  They get knit together one stitch at a time through effort.

So what can I do if I feel like a workaholic?

I think the first question we need to ask is, What are we here for? And second, What should be the nature of our existence? I think the answer to the first is purpose, and the second is presence.

We gain purpose when we can see the reason for our work, and for our relationships, rather than feel they are a meaningless going-through-the-motions. My conviction is that life is about loving God and serving others. What is your purpose in life? If it’s to get rich or earn prestige, then perhaps that’s what’s driving your workaholism. Or maybe you work to forget past hurts, or to ignore current ones. If so, then your work is driven by wounds.

We gain presence when we reprioritize our values to create margin so we can offer attention and emotional support in our relationships. If your family has ever said, “you’re physically here, but your brain is somewhere else,” you know you lack emotional presence. I like the advice that says, “wherever you are, be all there.” So how do we gain purpose and presence?

1. If you’re really concerned about your work interfering with family life, seek professional help. The key is that you’ve identified the pattern, and can point to feelings and behaviors you think indicate a problem. I recommend you find a counselor if you identify with the indicators bulleted above.

2. Realize that with only 24 hours in a day, every minute spent at work means another minute lost at home. In Choosing to Cheat: Who Wins when Family and Work Collide?, Andy Stanley observes that broadly speaking all cheating is about trading one thing we value for something we don’t, and this normally entails trading an intangible virtue for some tangible reward. Are you trading away your marriage (an intangible I would call faithfulness) for the tangible rewards of promotion and toys? It sounds blunt, but if you can get your work done in eight hours, do. Put the laptop away, turn off the Blackberry, go home, and engage your family.

3. Recognize that all relationships require work. They aren’t easy. Pastor Ed Harris says it well:

All relationships require work. This is one of the most overlooked and under-appreciated areas of our human being tool chest. We think just because someone is married to us or that we have a few friends on Facebook and folks humor us by laughing at our jokes, that we have mastered the art of having a good relationship. Think again. Just like any other working organism, whether it is mechanical or flesh and blood, it requires maintenance, work and dedication.

This is a revelation to some.

4. Realize that the effects of your workaholism on your family are real. We’d like to think otherwise—that our spouse is strong, our kids resilient. Or we might think the benefits of our hard work outweigh its detriments. A young woman, Marin, would disagree.  She writes:

Most of my childhood, my dad was a severe workaholic. He worked as much as he could and made as much money as possible. That was what was important to him. He was doing it to support the family and give us extras, so I guess you could argue that the family was important to him, but it felt like work was more important because that is where he spent his time.

His workaholism put strains on all of our relationships. We kids were scared of setting him off or becoming angry with him. It changed the way that we behaved toward each other and outsiders.

I found that I have inherited the same tendencies. When I work excessively hard, I can become depressed, and then I become like a sloth. I don’t want to do anything, not even have fun or invest in others.

5. Negotiate your priorities with your spouse and family. We show our loved ones presence when we sit down, give full eye contact, listen actively, and talk about life, together. We show it in partnering with them about decisions small and large. For example, what plans might you agree on for tonight? The weekend? Your next vacation? Or, how do you hope to spend that nest egg? Will it be to visit your folks, or the in-laws, or to just get away by yourselves? If we put effort into our relating, similar to that put into career or housework or busyness, we’re bound to build hope.

When I consider deep sources for purpose and presence, I consider Jesus who said, “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11: 28-30)

Jesus isn’t promising a bed of roses when we give our burdens to him, but he says his way gives rest, yields life, for it means not chasing achievement and accumulation or ignoring our hurts and wounds. His purpose provides meaning to love him and the people around us, people who become our allies as we face life’s challenges together.

Have you lost your family because you put business before your family? Watch this video and learn how Bud Paxon dealt with it.

Thirty minutes from my home flows the Fraser River, a major thoroughfare for millions of migrating salmon

So what does fishing for sockeye say about friendship and forgiveness?

The first thing I’ve learned is that the relationship between me and a fish is like the friendship between me and someone close. If I simply go to the river, and watch fish go by (as they jump and splash), there is little risk, and little tension. The fish do their thing, and I do mine, and life is good.

Similarly, with those closest to us, it’s possible to get along on automatic pilot, watching and interacting almost at arm’s length. Of course this type of safe relating can be superficial, but we resign ourselves to it for whatever reason—maybe past hurts make us cautious, or moving to a new place makes everyone an acquaintance, or possibly physical struggles drain us from investing deeply in others. For whatever reason, thin relating feels pretty good at times, like watching fish swim by. But neither feeds us.

Making the effort

Now, toss a line out, and the whole game changes. Suddenly I’m a hunter, a seeker. I want relationship with a passing fish, or two, or three. Creating this relationship requires effort on my part to rig my rod and reel, cast a hundred times, and endure the elements of sun or rain. It also means pain for the fish, as hook enters mouth, digs deep, and sends trauma through its body. And the tension! My 20-lb. line strains to constrain the sockeye from swimming downstream with the river’s strong current. So I must “play” the line with my reel, giving line at times, and taking it in at others.

Is this not how we relate with others? Relating takes effort in time and energy. If we want a relationship to get beyond the superficial, we need to invest in each other. Good friends show effort through time for coffee, listening attentively, offering advice, and sometimes rolling up sleeves to fix computers, build fences or bake meals. We really can’t expect to sit idly by, watching others, as easily as we might watch fish.

While the metaphor doesn’t entirely hold, we know that relating with others is bound to be prickly with thorns and barbs. Communication experts used to think that the goal of a good relationship was to avoid conflict, but more recently they believe conflict is inevitable.  Conflict is even helpful for two people to understand each other, challenge the other and grow in trust. Of course conflict can also destroy, if not handled well.

Back on the river, consider what happens when I hook into a fish. At that moment, who is in control, me or the fish? At first it may seem I am. With rod and reel in good working order, and the fish tugging at the end of the line, all I must do is pull steadily, and account for any run, and in three minutes, the salmon is flopping at my feet, beached.

But for every fish landed, a significant number get away. Some fish dash down river, snapping monofilament like thread, but trailing hook and line from their gums. Others jump and twist and thrash and tear flesh, but if lucky, dislodge the hook. Wounded, yet free, they win.

Freed by forgiveness

Still other sockeye figure out a simpler, yet braver path. Rather than pull, dash, or thrash, they swim toward shore, and approach the fisherman. When fish do so, you’re bound to see a frantic person reeling like crazy shouting “No, no, no—not towards me!” But if the fish persists, the line goes slack, and the hook comes out with a flick of its head. In cases where fish swim toward their enemy, they often gain freedom from pain.

I think the same is true when we forgive others who have hurt us, and when we don’t, we dash, thrash, and tear our souls.

How do you dash and thrash? John Gottmann, renown relational expert, suggests four toxic ways we respond to people who hurt us. He calls them the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (which in the book of Revelation are war, famine, death and pestilence—an ugly quartet!).

One reaction may be to complain or criticize. “I don’t like that blouse—it’s too frumpy.” “You stay up too late; what are you doing anyway?”

Complaint and criticism can easily lead to the other person’s defensiveness. “I would wear something nicer if you weren’t so cheap.” “I stay up late to have some time away from you, and what I’m doing is none of your business!” Defensiveness dodges responsibility, and gets us no where.

Defensive responses can make people shut down, withdraw or stonewall, that is, give the silent treatment. She doesn’t talk about clothes, and he keeps quiet about late nights. They figure that ignoring these issues will make them go away.

If these three horsemen roam freely, the fourth is not far behind: contempt and disgust. She may not say “I hate you for calling my clothes frumpy,” but she’s thinking it, and he may just as well say, “I hate you for not trusting me.”

When we respond these ways, we’re like tethered fish fighting frantically to solve our dilemma. We may succeed in breaking off, and sulking away, but always with wounds, and never truly free.

But what if we approached our enemy? What if we forgave them? Might we come unhooked?

“But they don’t deserve to be forgiven!” you might retort. True. But if we wait for them to apologize, we may never move ahead.

“But to forgive means I have to trust them again!” you might counter. No. Forgiving means you let go the hurt they caused you in the past, but it does not require you to enter back into a trusting relationship. That requires fuller reconciliation, and some relationships just aren’t ready for that.

“But I like feeling bitter towards them!” If that’s the case, then no, don’t forgive them. But don’t be surprised if you suffer from anger, anxiety, and migraines. Be prepared to be “hooked” into that hurtful relationship for years to come.

One day Jesus’ disciple, Peter, asked him “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” (Matthew 18:21-22)

Most don’t take Jesus literally, but attitudinally. We should be ever-willing to forgive others, just as he forgave us.

The fish that fought my line were most often caught. Most of those that swam toward me were freed. May you approach your enemies, and free yourself by forgiving them.

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