As We Forgive

    When I sent my letter about Tracy to the prosecutor this week, I also asked if I could give Neil my Lament of the Lamb book and a letter I wrote to him long ago as a Griefshare exercise. At that time, I put it in the following blog:

 

What I Hope to Say

 

 Drug Dealer: 

    I believe two things that seem contradictory by human standards. The first is that my son Tracy died because it was his God appointed time. The Bible teaches that. Ps. 139:16 says, “Your eyes saw my unformed body, all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” The second is that Tracy died because you sold him, and he took, fentanyl poisoned drugs. The fact that God appointed March 22^, 2022 as the day my son would die, does not absolve you of your guilt for selling him the drugs that killed him. There had  been enough fentanyl overdose deaths already that Tracy should have known not to take them. Until then, he had been off drugs for six years. And you, who make a living selling drugs, should have known about the fentanyl problem. 

    As someone whom Christ has forgiven, I feel compelled to forgive you. I want you to pay the legal penalty for causing my son’s death, but I also want you to know Christ’s forgiveness. Otherwise, you will bear the guilt of killing Tracy for all eternity. I don’t think he would want that for you. Trace was very understanding of human frailty. The other contradictory thing is that God’s forgiveness does not remove the legal consequences of our actions. I want you to pay for what you have done and I want you locked away where you can’t bring this agony to another family like ours. 

    Tracy was six weeks from graduating from aircraft mechanic school. He had already earned one of his certifications. For 18 months he had been a top student in his class while working more than full-time as an auto mechanic to support himself. He was already a gifted mechanic and was planning to become a pilot as well. He had many friends, a family who loved him, and a good future ahead of him. God’s plans for him were different from ours, and better, but I want you to know something about the man whose life you took. 

   Until recently, I didn't even know how to spell your name. I don’t know you at all. I’m sure you have friends and family who love you too, and I’m sure they are suffering also because of this. That’s what sin does. It hurts people who don’t deserve it. But God forgives people who don’t deserve it, and I want that for you, in spite of what you did to my son, because of what God's Son did for me. 

 

 

    I wasn't sure I'd have a chance to say it to Neil, apparently we do not share at sentencing. And I wasn't sure, when the time came, that I would forgive him. Prosecutor Barry sent both my letters to the probation officer compiling the sentencing information, and gave me the email address for Neil's attorney. I emailed him a copy of my letter. He said he would make sure Neil got it. That Neil was sorry for what happened to Tracy.

    Later I wondered if I lied. If I did forgive him. I told the Lord I didn't feel forgiveness for him. The Lord said, Do you need to? I don't really know what forgiveness feels like. The scripture meditation app I use, always ends with the Lord's Prayer. Today as I said, forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, it really made me think--as we forgive. Those things were on my mind when we went to our church Good Friday service. As we sang song after song about the price Jesus paid to forgive us, I realized I felt something, I felt love for Neil. I didn't pray for it, I don't even think I wanted it. But there it was in my heart--love for Neil. 

   The pastor's brief message that followed emphasized that love means being willing to lay down my life. Forgiving the man whose drugs killed Tracy, felt not only like laying down my life, but laying down my son's life as well. Could I do that? My letter said I felt compelled as a Christian to forgive him. That I felt Trace would not want him to suffer for eternity for his part in Tracy's death. But I did not know until now what forgiveness feels like--it feels like love for the person who wronged you.

    It seemed so basic I wondered why I haven't learned this before. The Lord said, No one has wronged you so greatly before. So now I know the offer of forgiveness in my letter is true. Not because God can forgive what I could not, or because as a Christian my forgiveness is linked to forgiving others, or even because Tracy would want me to. I can forgive Neil because I love him. It is as simple and profound as that. Forgiveness feels like love.