The disquieting shatter of thousands of glass pieces flying through the air was heard throughout the house. The pinging melody played against the surface of the granite, onto the unforgiving tile floor. As I ran to find the source of the noise, I called out concerned, asking if someone had been hurt. Without verbally communicating, my husband and I flew into auto pilot trying to limit the damage of broken glass within our control. Tiny fragments scattered through several rooms over a shockingly large square feet of space. An hour of sweeping and shop vac’ing the area, brought us some level of comfort that none of us would end up with a thin sliver of glass in our feet over the next few days.

Our efforts eliminated most of the hazard and, thankfully, no one was hurt. But the significance wasn’t the one explosion of glass; rather the tiny, leftover splinters presenting themselves in the following days. How I handled the remnants which showed up in the weeks to follow, was to become a profound revelation for freedom from my own spiritual slivers keeping me stuck.

Weeks after the explosion of glass, I readied the house for company and with attentiveness I cleaned our countertop. Sweeping the crumbs off the surface area I see every day, but this time something caught my eye. There was another sliver of glass left behind from the shattered tumbler. I stubbornly refuse to dispose of it properly. Inaction, motivated by fear, for I was slightly nervous that I’d end up inflicting pain on myself or even more absurd, mar my dishcloth. Ashamed, for I knew it could hurt someone else or even my own hand if the lighting wasn’t just right, I abandoned it in the corner and moved along to my next task.

My actions reflect my heart. Just like the slivers of unforgiveness residing in my spirit, I balk at the process to remove them. 

Unforgiveness has been sitting there for many years, longer than I care to confess. We are all the walking wounded; the severity and brokenness varies for each of us. Usually an amiable, quick to forgive person, this self-actualization is difficult for me to swallow. I grimace with realization of how long I’ve avoided, simply abandoning the spiritual sliver in the corner of my heart and how the One who saw it all along was trying to get me to relinquish my broken pieces.

Perhaps, like me, you are carrying them around with you, not realizing an unforgiving heart is the source of what is provoking  your downcast spirit. Convincing yourself, as I had done, an obligatory apology given from the offending party was to happen first, needing their repentance to precede forgiveness offered.

Often our forgiveness must be given without it ever being sought or acknowledged. Nothing for the world to see nor praise as we accept and then in turn offering our gift of healing to someone else.

As I finally took care of the piece of glass in the corner, I asked the Lord to help me to give what I could not; unconditional forgiveness. Praying it out loud to my Heavenly Father and making peace with myself and them. Freedom from the pit I had been stuck in was gradual, yet completely remarkable.

Little pieces of glass still appear now and then, but I push past my initial instincts to avoid and instead I pick it up and put it where it belongs. Finding continual freedom in the process.

“Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.” Colossians 3:13