A Bridge Unbroken (A Miller's Creek Novel) (13 page)

He listened intently, then beamed. “That’s it!” Relief crossed his features. “Boy, am I glad that’s over.” He made a move to stand.

“Not so fast, Buck-o.” She grabbed a handful of his pants leg and tugged him back to a sitting position.

“There’s more?” he asked weakly.

“Oh, yeah.” She’d barely scratched the surface. “Rule four: No accusing tone or acting as though you’re better than me in any shape, form, or fashion.”

“Okay. Rule five.” Chance held up a hand, fingers splayed. “When either one of us feels angry at the other, we take time to sort through things.”

She nodded. “Rule six. Don’t say things that hurt the other person’s feelings.”

He made a face. “That’s such a girl rule.” His face crumpled as though sobbing, and he brought both fists to his eyes to wipe pretend tears. “Wa-ah. You hurt my feelings.” The words came out whiny and high-pitched.

She knuckle-punched his arm and glared.

“Oh, all right, we’ll keep the girly rule. Rule seven: no carrying grudges or keeping score.”

A short snort sounded through her nose. “I’m not the one who does that. That would be you.”

The air grew thick. Chance, more quiet than she'd ever known him, searched her eyes for several minutes, his own dark and foreboding. “Then tell me why you left all those years ago, even after I apologized.” The softly-spoken words were edged with hurt.

The mention of the past carried ancient power, bringing with it a host of vivid memories. Dakota ducked her head. How could she explain that it wasn’t a grudge that had sent her packing, but knowing he would never again see her in the same light? Never again treat her the same? “It was more the way you apologized, Chance. It wasn’t that I was harboring a grudge.”

“What do you mean, the way I apologized? An apology is an apology.”

There it was again, that same old condescending tone. The tone that revealed his true opinion of her. “Listen to yourself. It's like what I was trying to tell you earlier, which by the way, you completely ignored."

"What are you talking about?"

"Earlier when I mentioned your tendency to look at the speck in my eyes while ignoring the beam in yours."

Just as before, he didn't comment.

“Ever since that night, you treat me like I'm the only one to blame, like you were completely innocent.” She hesitated, praying for an explanation. Should she continue, or was it really worth it to dredge up these painful memories? He'd already broken their newly-made rule four. If she continued down this path of conversation, she'd be communicating all right, but words with a potential for hurt. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. Back at square one. Being confrontational just wasn't her style.

"Let's just go ahead and tackle the elephant in the room. I don't think either of us really wants to go there, but if we don't, we'll continue to skirt the issue." He licked his lips, as though considering his words. "The way I remember it, you
were
the one at fault."

Chapter Eleven

N
o doubt about it. He was in the dog house with Dakota big time. Chance scratched his head and climbed from the pickup at church the following Sunday morning. Naming the problem was part of the solution, right? That's what he'd always heard, but it sure didn't seem to fit this scenario. A big part of him wanted to back out of the whole deal, but he couldn't exactly do that after making the rule of no running away. But something had to be done. They'd worked all day yesterday with her hardly saying a word. What else could he do to get back in her good graces? Especially since he was right. How could he convince her she was the one at fault?

He waved to Mama Beth as she scurried into another building. The memory of that night had replayed in his mind at least a million times. She was the one who had instigated everything by how she dressed and acted. Like she'd intentionally set out to trap him. Well, trap him she had, and he'd given in to temptation at her hands.

A heavy sigh escaped, the perfect expression of how he felt on the inside. Burdened. Bogged down.
I've forgiven her, right Lord?

He searched the cloudy sky as he walked toward small group session and listened for the still small voice. Silence. As though the clouds served as some sort of barrier between him and God. Resolute, he entered the door to the small group study led every Sunday morning by Matt. Maybe his time at church could point him in the right direction.

People congregated in small groups, munching on donuts or fruit, steaming cups of coffee in hand. Chance made his way to where Matt stood talking to a new friend of theirs who'd recently joined the Miller's Creek police force.

"Hey, Carter. Matt." Chance shook both their hands.

Matt chuckled. "Don't mean to be the bearer of bad news, my friend, but based on the luggage under your eyes, you might want to check into taking a vacation."

Chance tried to smile, but the only thing he could muster was one corner of his mouth. "Thanks for stating the obvious, buddy."

"You okay?" Carter Jennings, who towered over both he and Matt, sipped his coffee, his eyebrows raised, his eyes trained on Chance.

"Honestly, I've been better." He turned toward the nearby table and snatched a donut.

Matt frowned. "Mr. Health Nut eating a donut? Something really is eating you."

Chance stopped in mid-chew and eyed the donut. Good way to clog an artery or two. He took another bite, not caring at the moment.

"Wanna talk about it?" His best friend often wore his counselor hat, generous, but sometimes to the point of being nosy.

He shook his head. "Maybe later. Gotta wrap my brain around it first."

"Sometimes talking through it speeds up that process."

Chance eyed the clock. Good. Almost time to start. "Not now."

Matt nodded, his eyes clouded with concern, then backed away toward the front of the room. "Later it is. Okay, everyone, find a seat. Today we're talking about forgiveness. What it is and what it isn't."

Chance's jaw clenched at the mention of forgiveness. Maybe he should've slept in this morning. Had Matt somehow sensed his struggle and decided to preach at him during small group time? He took a seat close to Carter.

After a word of prayer, Matt moved to the dry erase board. Red marker oozed words. Repentance. Apology. Reconciliation. Pardon. Forgiveness. Forgetting. Judgmental attitudes.

Ouch. The very thing Dakota had accused him of.

His friend continued to write as bits of muted conversation and laughter sounded around the room. Hurt. Anger. Bitterness. Resentment. Blame. Holding a grudge. Justice. Mercy. Grace. Revenge. Retaliation. Failure. Guilt. Acknowledging wrong. Excusing. Restoring trust.

"Sure we have enough time for this topic, Matt?" Carter drawled out the words, and laughter erupted.

Matt turned, his good-natured grin in place. "That depends on y'all, not me. We'll stay until you learn how to forgive." Laughter and conversation erupted once more. He turned back to the board and continued writing. Love. Hate. Punishment. Sorrow. Regret. Confession. Distance. Isolation. Withdrawal.

Okay, now he was describing Dakota to a T. Behind him the door creaked open and quietly closed, followed by light footsteps and the squeak of a metal chair as someone put their weight down.

Matt wrote with rapid staccato strokes, and the board grew more red than white. Forgiving others. Forgiving yourself. Forgiving God. His friend faced the group, who had grown strangely quiet. "As you can see, a whole host of things are tied up in our concept of forgiveness. Before we start this discussion, let me say we're not talking about small grievances here. Those are things we can easily let go of and chalk up to differences of personality. Instead, we're going to talk about those life experiences that send us reeling. Those events that are personal, unjust, and deep. Those wounds we can't explain away or find purpose in." Matt's eyes took on distance, as though reminded of his own deep wounds. "So with that in mind, what is forgiveness? And what is it not?"

"It's not excusing the behavior of the other person."

"Or smoothing it over as if it didn't mean anything."

"It's something we do out of obedience to God."

"We forgive because we've been forgiven," came another voice.

Matt smiled and nodded. "Y'all make it sound so easy."

The room quieted again. No, forgiveness was one of the hardest things any believer ever had to do.

"It's letting it go." The voice was Dakota's, and it came from the back of the room, timid and soft.

His stomach churned, and Chance had to force himself not to turn around and glare at her. What was she doing here anyway? This made two weeks in a row, but, hey, based on the past couple of days, she could use a lesson in forgiveness.

Matt pointed her way. "That's the perfect definition of forgiveness. We're commanded to forgive as we've been forgiven, but that's so much easier said than done. Right?"

Heads nodded, and low murmurs of assent skipped across the room.

"True forgiveness isn't natural to us. What do we crave instead?"

"We want revenge and retaliation and retribution. We want the other person to hurt like us, and we want them to pay. We want justice." Chance spoke the words, hating them and recognizing their truth at the same time.

Matt nodded. "But as Dakota just pointed out, true forgiveness occurs when we're able to release both the offense and the offender. When we let it go. Now how do we do that? Everyone turn to Genesis 45. We all know the story of Joseph, the favorite son of his father. Joseph had dreams that put him on a higher level than the rest of his family. Then he made the mistake of telling his brothers. To make matter worse, Joseph's father gave him a special gift, which made the brothers hate him even more." Matt pointed to the word 'hate' on the board. "So what did they do? They threw him in a well and talked about killing him. Finally they sold him into slavery and told their dad he'd been killed by wild animals. Later in his life, Joseph was falsely accused by his master's wife and landed in prison. He had every reason to hold a grudge against his brothers and maybe even against God." Matt circled 'grudge' and 'forgiving God.' "Years pass, and old Joe gets a promotion to the second highest position in the country. His brothers come in search of food. When they realize who he is, they're understandably upset. This brother they wronged many times over now has the power to destroy them. Someone read verses five through eight of chapter 45."

Dani Miller began to read, and Chance followed along in his Bible.
"And now, do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you. For two years now there has been famine in the land, and for the next five years there will not be plowing and reaping. But God sent me ahead of you to preserve for you a remnant on earth and to save your lives by a great deliverance. So then, it was not you who sent me here, but God."

Matt rubbed his chin and paced across the front of the room, his Bible in one hand. "Joseph could speak these words of forgiveness to the people who'd ruined his life because he kept his focus on God and realized God's hand at work. What's the lesson here for us, especially in light of letting things go?"

"By letting offenses go and releasing the one who hurt us, we turn it over to God, recognizing He has a higher purpose, the ability to judge the situation accurately, and deal with it as He sees fit." Andy spoke the words with conviction.

Matt's eyes narrowed as though deep in thought. "Is turning an offense over to God something we do one time and then forget it?"

This time people shook their heads.

"Why?"

"Because we have trouble forgetting, and we want to keep dredging things up." Chance's eyes widened. Had those words come from his mouth?

"Exactly." Matt smiled. "We've all heard the expression 'forgive and forget,' but I think we'd all agree that's not even humanly possible." His friend scanned the room. "The more we try to focus on forgetting, the more we're focused on the things we're trying to forget. Does God forget?"

"He chooses not to remember." Again, Dakota's voice sounded.

"Wow." Matt's face held reverential awe.

Tears pricked at the back of Chance's eyes at a love so strong. God had chosen to forget his faults and weaknesses. His sin.

"Next question. Does the offender have to repent in order for us to forgive?"

Conflicting answers came from all directions.

Matt let it continue momentarily then raised a hand to silence the group. "Interesting. We seem to be pretty evenly divided over this one. Okay, let's start with a definition of what repentance is. Anyone?"

"It means being sincerely sorry for what you've done, confessing it, and apologizing." Trish Tyler answered.

Andy shook his head. "Sorry, honey, but I don't believe that. First of all, how do we know someone's sincere in their apology? Just because they look or act a certain way? And I don't think confession, apology, and regret are the same as repentance."

"Why not?" Matt had a way of forcing people to get to the heart of a matter without ruffling feathers or making someone feel put on the spot. "Anyone remember our earlier discussion about what confession is?"