It's a Hard Habit to Break
- Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Several years ago, a family friend showed up at our front door with an electric sander for my husband, Dan, encouraging him to try woodworking as a stress-relieving hobby. Over the next several months, Dan not only developed a love for woodworking but created some beautiful pieces of furniture in the process. Being a supportive wife and the main benefactor of his newfound hobby, I felt a responsibility to encourage my husband in any way that I could.
For every birthday or special event, I bought him a power tool and strategically distributed a list of specific power tools for friends and family members to consider as a gift choice. Within a year, Dan enjoyed a fairly impressive collection of tools - which he proudly displayed in the garage – and I had several new pieces of furniture which I proudly displayed in the house. But by far, the most precious by-product of Dan’s new hobby was watching our son, Jered, as he worked beside his daddy. Day after day, they headed out to the garage for some “daddy time.” Dan built a work bench just for Jered beside his own slightly larger work station. Jered had his own tool box and tool belt just like his Dad’s. I could hear them singing, laughing, hammering and buzzing happily away for hours. Since Dan especially loved working with pine, he kept a good supply on hand, piling leftover or unused pieces in Jered’s wood box for his own special projects. There was one problem. Jered was completely fascinated by those power tools and was constantly sneaking into the garage hoping that his dad had left one plugged in for him to use. We had to come up with a solution – and fast!
Christmas was just around the corner, so Dan and I went from store to store until we found the ideal gift for Jered and the perfect solution to the power tool dilemma. It was the cutest workbench with its own set of plastic tools! We wrapped and placed the workbench under the tree, anticipating the look on Jered’s face when he opened his “workshop in a box.” Christmas morning came and every gift had been opened but the strangely-wrapped bulky one waiting for the resident junior carpenter. With sheer delight, Jered ripped the paper away, revealing our “perfect” present. Cautiously picking up the red hammer, he conducted a thorough examination of each and every tool before he turned to us, his face a picture of disappointment and determination. “These are baby tools. I cannot use them because I am not a baby. I have to use real tools like Daddy’s tools.”
With a sense of finality, Jered headed straight for the garage and certain danger. His dad followed him outside as I prayed for just the right words of explanation for both father and son. Kneeling down beside his son, Dan picked up the sander and gently said, “Jered, these tools were made to fit Daddy’s hands.” Holding out his big hands and placing Jered’s small hands in his, Dan pointed out the difference in size. He went on to explain that in Jered’s hands the tools could be destructive and harm him. But in Daddy’s hands, they were constructive tools that could build and create.
Revenge was never intended for our hands. It belongs in the hands of God. Our revenge destroys while God’s revenge brings justice and restoration. Part of true forgiveness is releasing the hurt and letting go of the pain! Instead, we often hold onto that pain, using its power to fuel the revenge we seek. It is easy for our hearts to become bent on revenge. But the Apostle Paul issues a strong warning about revenge. “Do not take revenge, my friends… leave room for God’s wrath. ‘It is mine to avenge. I will repay,’ says the Lord” (Romans 12:19).
We must make forgiveness a habit! The apostle Peter once came to Jesus asking, “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 seven times seventy.’” The religious priests of Jesus’ day taught that an offended person needed to forgive only three times. Jesus’ answer must have shocked Peter. Seventy times seven! Four hundred and ninety times! How could anyone possibly keep up with that many offenses?
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