“It was not a fun moment,” writes singer-songwriter Stephen McWhirter. “No bird gently landed on my shoulder as Celine Dion sang quietly in the background.”
Growing up, the author remembers seeing her father preach about faith and compassion in front of large audiences. But at home, the reality she experienced was very different, filled with fear and emotional scars that shaped much of her childhood.
Growing up, I never could have imagined forgiving my father. I constantly dreamed of a life where my mom left him, or pressed charges and had him arrested. How could I ever forgive this man who terrorized my childhood and brutalized my mother? For the longest time, I couldn’t see that my anger had become a prison of my own making.
I turned to stealing and drugs to find comfort, but nothing could fill that void that was only meant for Jesus to fill. As an adult, when I truly experienced God’s love and became a Christian, I knew Jesus had set me free from my sins, but I realized I wasn’t living in freedom because I was chained to my unforgiveness. I knew if I wanted to experience real freedom and growth I would have to forgive my dad.
Twenty years ago, as I pulled into the gravel driveway at my parents’ house, I felt like someone was twisting my insides. My mind was made up, but my body wasn’t so sure. I somehow got the courage to go inside. I stood there in his doorway. He stayed seated in his recliner, barely looking up at me. “Dad,” I said, “we need to talk.” I took a deep breath, then it all came out: “I forgive you. I forgive you for all the years of hurting Mom, and for all the trauma you put our family through. I know you don’t want to talk about this, but I have to. I believe Jesus is leading me to truly forgive you.” It was not a fun moment, to say the least. There was no beam of light shining on us. No bird gently landed on my shoulder as Celine Dion sang quietly in the background.
Nope. It was unbearably awkward. My dad had a look of shocked embarrassment on his face, as if he were about to jump out of his skin. I did it, though. I put it in the Lord’s hands and forgave my father! Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying there haven’t been days since when new thoughts bubble up or old pain hits me. Look, forgiveness is no joke, y’all. That became more real to me as things got even wilder.
Twenty years ago, as I pulled into the gravel driveway at my parents’ house, I felt like someone was twisting my insides. My mind was made up, but my body wasn’t so sure. I somehow got the courage to go inside. I stood there in his doorway. He stayed seated in his recliner, barely looking up at me. “Dad,” I said, “we need to talk.” I took a deep breath, then it all came out: “I forgive you. I forgive you for all the years of hurting Mom, and for all the trauma you put our family through. I know you don’t want to talk about this, but I have to. I believe Jesus is leading me to truly forgive you.” It was not a fun moment, to say the least. There was no beam of light shining on us. No bird gently landed on my shoulder as Celine Dion sang quietly in the background.
After I gave my life to Jesus and forgave my dad, Tara, my soon-to-be wife, told me she believed the Lord wanted my father to baptize us. I was furious that she would even suggest such a thing. I thought, You’ve got to be kidding me! I had already forgiven him. Can we just move on with our lives! But I knew actions speak louder than words, and I wasn’t acting like I had forgiven him. I reluctantly agreed.
I had gone to my father and forgiven him and let him baptize me and my fiancée. Surely that was enough, right?
Right? Wrong!
Cue God saying, “But wait! There’s more!” Right after being baptized, Tara told me she felt we were supposed to let my dad perform our wedding ceremony. At that point, I started to wonder if she was just punishing me. And God?
C’mon, can you just give this forgiveness thing a rest?
But I agreed. On Sept. 22, 2002, we had our wedding in a beautiful park surrounded by friends and family. Honestly, I was so nervous I don’t fully remember all my dad said during the ceremony, but I do recall him crying. Truth is, I was fighting back tears myself.
My mom told me, though she had forgiven him, my father lived riddled with unbearable guilt over what he’d done, and believed it could never be undone. The night after my baptism, my father wept uncontrollably and told her, “I feel like God is helping me reconnect with my children and is redeeming what I had broken.” There is no one beyond the radical restoration of Jesus.
Forgiving my dad and letting him baptize us and perform our wedding ceremony were some of the hardest moments of my life. After all my dad did, you may be offended by the notion of my forgiving him. I don’t blame you. I was offended too. But God doesn’t offer grace only to those who deserve it. The truth is, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23).
God wants to redeem everything, even the seemingly unredeemable. The grace I offered my father in forgiving him is the same grace I relied on to save me. Forgiveness is about a debt. If someone wrongs you, they owe you a legitimate debt. But if you are the person who has been wronged, you can tear up that debt and throw it away. When we give our lives to Jesus, the redemption never stops with us. It’s like a pebble dropped in the ocean, meant to ripple out to become a tsunami of redemption, drenching our relationships in grace — even the ones we thought could never be redeemed.
My father passed away of cancer in 2012. In his last days, he repeatedly asked my mom, my siblings and me for forgiveness. “Dad, I’ve already forgiven you,” I reminded him. I remember sitting in the hospital room with my mom as my dad lay dying. We knew it wouldn’t be long. My mother got up and left the room for a couple of minutes, telling me she’d be back soon. In that time, I witnessed my father take his last breaths. In those final seconds, as he tried to hold on a little longer, one of the last things he heard was me saying, “I love you and I forgive you.” Then I watched his soul leave his body.
I have never condoned what my father did to my mother, including what I said on the day I forgave him. What he did was not okay. Some people think forgiveness is a feeling and are waiting to offer it until they feel it. If I’d waited to forgive my dad until I felt like forgiving him, I would still be waiting. I’ve had people tell me they can’t forgive because the person who hurt them hasn’t asked to be forgiven or wouldn’t even want it. No. Forgiving the other person may benefit them, but it’s not for them. You need to forgive the other person for your own sake. You’re the one in the prison. You’re the one being poisoned by unforgiveness. But there is freedom on the other side of forgiveness.
Stephen McWhirter’s book, Radically Restored, is available now wherever books are sold.
