I wrote my friend from days long past. ‘I was true to you, never did anything wrong except before I was able to admit to myself that I was drugged and raped, I cried out to you for help. You (I think,) misinterpreted those cries as a threat to your person. Please forgive me.
She wrote back.
“I forgave you a long time ago. Please respect my wishes and do not write again.”
I looked at this answer. I am forgiven. Thanks. What did I do wrong? I wanted to write back asking “What is it that you forgave me of? I just said I never did anything wrong, and I was true to you.” Being drugged and raped is not a sin which I voluntarily committed. It is not a sin.
Thanks for forgiving me. For what? It is I who should be forgiving you. When I cried out for help, you, like the scribes and the Pharisees in Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan, turned and walked on the other side of the street so you would not have to look at me.
When I came home, like the prodigal son, you were the elder brother who refused to come to the celebration. Thanks for your forgiveness. I was run over by a bus and you forgive me. Thanks.
I came to your church and you did not look at me. I tried talking with you and you walked away. Tell me. What have you forgiven me of?
I knocked on your door and you had me arrested for trespassing. You took a restraining order out on me. Why? What did I do? I was drugged and raped. My sin is to cry to you for help. For that you forgive me?
I knock on your door again. You who were the elder of the church. The organist, the one who helps people in need.
I fear for you.
If I walk away now, will I not be placing you into God’s hands? My dear friend, remember the goats and the sheep. Remember what happens to those who turn away our brothers in need. How can I walk away? If I walk away, am I not obligated to shake the dust from my sandals? I cannot do that.