Forgiveness
By Mike Ashworth | February 6, 2010
What follows is a true story. From the book ‘Watch my Back’ by Geoff Thompson
Four weeks ago I found myself sitting in McDonald’s having an early morning coffee. I love McDonald’s: most mornings I’m there at 7.30 a.m. waiting for the first pot to brew. This morning was no exception. I sat with my coffee, paper and a couple of hours to invest ahead of me. Bliss, It doesn’t get much better than this, I can tell you.
I was set for a great couple of hours or R&R when my past suddenly walked through the door. A large figure passed me and sat at the table opposite, clearly unaware of me. Twenty-eight years after crushing my youth, my aikido instructor was back in my world, looking older and pretty sad, but he was back. Providence had not only brought the man to face me, it had actually orchestrated it so that he was sat right opposite me, the only other customer in the restaurant.
I froze in my chair, my coffee cup suspended between the table and my mouth. For a second I felt the terror of my eleven-year old self return. I felt desperately sad and alone, frightened. Even though I was now the veteran of hundreds of fights against some absolute monsters, I still sat in terror of this man. It took me a few seconds to realise that I was not, in fact, eleven any more and that this man was no longer a threat. If I chose it he was already history. To be honest, for a couple of seconds, I thought about leaving, walking away, and letting it go. No one would ever know. Except me, of course, I’d know.
I was patently aware of what I had to do, what I’d needed to do for the whole of my adult life, but now that the opportunity had been offered me on a plate I was not sure that I could go ahead with this. I put the cup down and made my way over to his table. I stared down at this little man. He stared back up and smiled. When I returned a black look he must have realised that it wasn’t a social visit. As I sat down, he tried to stand, to object.
‘Sit down!’ I said it quietly with some authority. I think he knew I meant business because he quickly complied. There was emotion in my voice, a shake that ran through every word. I had waited a long time for this and now that it was here I didn’t quite know if I could follow it through. I thought it would be easier.
‘You don’t remember me,’ I said.
He went to speak and I gestured that he should not. Again he complied. I was in charge, this was my job.
‘I was one of your students when I was eleven. You sexually abused me.’
At the words ’sexually abused’ his mouth opened in denial but no words came out of his mouth. It was as though he had lost his voice. I continued.
‘You need to know two things. The first is that you sexually abused me and it has affected me all my life. When I was eleven what you did crucified me.’
His eyes dropped to the table. I could tell he was expecting a dig or a verbal bashing at the least. I remained absolutely expressionless, though my voice was now full of emotion.
‘The second thing you need to know is that I forgive you.’
I stood up and looked down at him. I had said it. There was a rush of relief. When I looked at him I felt no anger whatsoever, only sadness. He looked as crushed as I had been as a boy.
‘I forgive you.’ I said it again, for him and for me.
He looked up as I turned to walk away. Again his mouth opened but no words came out. He lifted his hand in a gesture of friendship. It hung embarrassingly in the air, his fingers trembled. I hadn’t expected this. I looked at it for for a very long second, then I looked at him. I know about forgiveness, it had been my sparring partner for some time now, it had been the secret to my catharsis, why I was now so light. I also knew that you couldn’t half-forgive someone: either you forgave them completely or you didn’t forgive them at all.
I shook his hand and made my way back to my coffee, and my brilliant, brilliant, happy life. And, do you know what, I have never been eleven years old since.
I was free.
Whenever I read this passage I am deeply moved.
If Geoff can forgive this man for abusing him when he was a child then I can find it in myself to also forgive people and not hold onto those feelings of anguish, anger etc that so many of us carry around.
In this short clip, Geoff talks about forgiveness at one of his masterclass sessions and also the film Romans 12:20 that has been born from this event.
The trailer for Romans 12:20. A short film by the Shammasian Brothers. Worthy of an Oscar when the feature drops…
Topics: Society |
12:45 pm on February 6th, 2010
Nice writing. You are on my RSS reader now so I can read more from you down the road.
Allen Taylor