The process of forgiveness

I have debated whether or not to write anything about the Botham Jean case and its aftermath. 

I'm a Southern white woman, and I can't speak to the racism and other things that my brothers and sisters of color have endured over the centuries. I also have never had a family member or close friend murdered.

When Botham Jean was first murdered, I wrote this post in response to it.  I did not closely follow the trial of Amber Guyger, although I did know it was going on.  I was glad that she was found guilty.  I was not glad that she only got ten years. 

I was also amazed when Brandt Jean, Botham's brother, told Amber Guyger he forgave her and hugged her in open court. 

And I also agree that just because Brandt forgave, that does not negate the need for justice.  Forgiveness and justice are not mutually exclusive. One can call for forgiveness, as the Bible does, while working for justice at the same time. 

What crossed my mind after I heard of Brandt's gesture was, "I hope people realize that forgiveness is a process."

I grew up believing that if you forgave someone, it was as if the slate had been wiped clean.  You were supposed to act like the offense never happened, you were supposed to never talk about it again, and you were not supposed to even think about it.  If you did any of those things, it meant you hadn't forgiven.  And the Bible says that if you do not forgive men their sins, God will not forgive yours (Matthew 6:15.) 

But here's the problem:  I couldn't do that. 

I still remembered the hurts done to me.  They still made me angry.  I wanted to forgive, but if I was still thinking about what happened and still angry at what happened, how could I say I forgave? 

Over the years, I've realized that forgiveness is a process.  It cannot be demanded.  It is commanded by God, but we cannot demand that someone forgive and we cannot demand that their forgiveness proceed on our timetable.  If the person is a Christian, we can point them to the Bible, but their decision to forgive, and the process of that forgiveness, is up to them.

One of the most freeing things anyone ever said to me was a counselor I saw in my early '30's, not long after I moved to Atlanta.  I've been in and out of counseling for a very long time (I am currently seeing one now).  The major issue I hit is childhood bullying.  I made a list of people who had bullied me at one time or another up to high school, and I got a list of 40 names. 

The counselor said to me, "You're not ready to forgive yet.  You will, but you're not ready yet."

What a relief to know that I could take my time with forgiving!  It was not that I did not want to forgive.  It was not that I did not refuse outright to forgive.  It was that I was struggling with doing it.  Her statement, "you're not ready to forgive," took the pressure off of me to instantly forgive the people who had hurt me.  And her saying that I would forgive let me know that she had faith in me, that I would do the right thing.

Brandt Jean forgave.  He has chosen the path to release bitterness, to release anger, and to allow God to work.  The anger and the pain over Botham's murder, however, is going to return.  But just because Brandt Jean will feel the pain and anger and hurt over Botham's murder, and just because he will remember what happened, that does not mean that he hasn't forgiven.  It means that the healing power of God will take time to work. 

Today is my 56th birthday.  A few weeks ago, I'd mentioned to my current counselor that it was 50 years since I was first bullied.  She suggested writing a letter (unmailed, of course) to the bullies as a way of letting it go. 

What I chose to do was go to a nearby park, a new one, and pray.  I did two laps around the pond there, and as I walked, I imagined myself dropping small stones on the path as a way of "letting go". 

I've come to the point where I realize that I will be dealing with the consequences of what other people did for the rest of my life.  It makes me angry that that is true.  It's painful and hurtful to realize that I will probably continually battle feelings of anger and hurt over ways I was sinned against.   

What I do not want to do, however, is to carry the burden of things that happened. 

So I released those burdens to God, with full knowledge that I will probably have to repeat the process again . . . and again . . . and again.  That doesn't mean that I have not forgiven.  It means that I have told God, "I desire to forgive and I am turning to you because you can do in me what I cannot do.  You can give me the power to forgive and the power to allow you to handle this person's ultimate judgment."

I hope no one ever gives Brandt Jean the idea that because he spoke the words "I forgive you" and hugged his brother's murderer that it's over, that he will never again deal with the pain and hurt and anger over his brother's murder.  If Brandt ever expresses that he is angry, that he is struggling with forgiveness, I hope no one ever tells him, "Well, you said you forgave her.  Did you really mean it?Have you really forgiven her?"

Preacher and writer Les Ferguson also knows firsthand the struggle of forgiveness.  In October 2011, his son was repeatedly raped by a fellow church member.  The member was arrested, and while out on bail, he murdered Les' wife and son.  The man then drove to his own home and killed himself.

When asked if he had forgiven the man, Les said, "Yes, but I will probably have to do it again next week." 

I will probably have to forgive the bullies again next week. 

Brandt Jean will probably have to forgive Amber Guyger next week. 

But I believe as long as the attitude of our hearts is, "God, you command forgiveness and I want to forgive.  Please do in me what I cannot do," God does understand and he will give us the power to do what we cannot do without him. 

Maybe Brandt Jean will be 56, walking around a pond in a park, and "dropping stones" on a path, praying to God to take the burdens from him.  If he is, I believe God will do it. 

In the meantime, remember that for him, as it is for all of us, forgiving is a process.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

The wrong door . . . or no?

(The following is my own opinion, based on the facts as I am aware of at this moment.  My opinions may change as I learn more of the facts surrounding this case.)

In the summer of 1983, I lived in Dorman Hall at Florida State University.  One day, I came back from class and got into the elevator.  When the elevator door opened, I got off the elevator, turned down the hallway, went down a few feet and stuck my key in the lock of a door . . . and asked myself, why isn't the door unlocking?

That's when I looked up and saw that the number on the door was 206, not 306. 

I hadn't been paying attention and I got off on the wrong floor and went to the wrong door.  

In Dorman Hall, as in many residence halls built in the 1950's and 1960's, the corridors all look alike.  So unless you know what floor you've gotten off on, it's easy to go to the wrong door.

That's why, when I heard of the alleged circumstances surrounding Botham Jean's shooting, I understood how going to "the wrong door" could have been a possibility.  Amber Guyger, the Dallas police officer arrested and charged with his shooting, claims that, after a long shift, she parked on a level she normally didn't park on and ended up going to the wrong apartment.  Her apartment is directly below Botham Jean's.  The apartment complex where they both lived is described as having symmetrical hallways, and other residents, according to this New York Times article, have reported occasionally going to the wrong apartment.  Maybe that's why Botham Jean put his red mat in front of his door.

That doesn't explain, though, the door being ajar.

Although, if I thought it was my apartment, I'd be concerned. 

That also doesn't explain her not noticing the red mat in front of his door.  In the case of me going to the wrong door at Dorman Hall, though, I wasn't paying attention and I might not have seen a mat in front of the door. 

In her version of events, she opened the door to a dark apartment and saw a silhouette of someone, gave "verbal commands" and when he didn't respond, she shot him.  Then she turned on the lights and realized she was in the wrong apartment.

Lawyers for Botham Jean's family say that his door was closed.  Neighbors have said that they heard someone banging on the door shouting, "Let me in!" and "Open up!" before they heard gunshots.  They've also said they heard someone, maybe Botham Jean, saying, "Oh, my God, why did you do that?" 

Jean's family also say that he and Amber Guyger did not know each other.  

On the day of Jean's funeral, the media broadcast the results of a search warrant executed at his apartment.  The police found, according to an inventory:

• 2 fired cartridge casings
• a laptop computer
• a black backpack with police equipment and paperwork
• an insulated lunch box
• a black ballistic vest with "police" markings
• 10.4 grams of marijuana in ziplock bags (less than an ounce)
• a metal marijuana grinder
• 2 RFID keys'
• 2 used packages of medical aid

Of course, what did the media immediately pounce on?  The marijuana.  The lawyer for Botham Jean's family has accused the police of mounting a smear campaign against Botham Jean.  There's even been some speculation that the marijuana was planted in Jean's apartment. (The police had been called earlier to Jean's complex by someone complaining of a strong smell of marijuana on the floor where Jean lived.) 

We have yet to hear the results of any search warrant executed on Amber Guyger's apartment.  

In another account of events, Guyger was allegedly struggling with the lock when Jean opened the door and confronted her.  

Since I wasn't there, I can't tell you what happened.  There are only two people that know the whole truth, and one of them is dead.  In the early stages of any investigation, and especially a high-profile one with loads of media attention, there are going to be conflicting reports and reports that are downright wrong.

But what it all boils down to is this:  An African-American man was killed in his own home by a white off-duty police officer.

This is frightening.  

I'm a white woman.  As much as I may want to "get it", I will never truly "get it".  Just like people who want to will never truly "get" what my husband and I deal with in raising a son with autism. 

I'm a white woman who wants to believe that the Civil Rights movement and the laws that were passed as a result solved the race problem in this country.

I'm a white woman that wants to believe that law enforcement and the legal system is truly "blind" except to facts, and that people can objectively look at facts, piece them together, and come to a correct conclusion. 

But is this true?

There may be laws ending legalized discrimination, but those laws do nothing to change the hearts of people.  Attitudes cannot be legislated.  The attitude of racism and prejudice can't be changed by law.

And I only need to take a quick look at history to see that no, "the system" isn't blind except to facts. 

This particular shooting has resonated with me more than others have because Botham Jean was a member of the Church of Christ, as I am, and he graduated from the same university that many members of my congregation are affiliated with.  People I know are expressing deep anger and deep sorrow. 

Did Amber Guyger go to the wrong apartment by mistake, find the door ajar, go in, and shoot a man, thinking he was a burglar in her apartment?

Did she go to the wrong apartment by mistake, try to open a closed door, get confronted by Botham Jean, and shoot him?

Or did she go to his apartment on purpose to confront him and to shoot him?

Did she go to the wrong door?

Or no?

Right now, I don't know.  Right now, I don't have the answers.  Right now, I don't know all of the facts.  I only know that a lot of people are hurting and angry. 

This particular entry is mostly me, as a white woman, trying to work out my feelings and my observations about yet another white cop-black victim shooting in the United States.  The facts must come out.  Justice must be served for Botham Jean.  Amber Guyger must be treated as any other accused would be. 

I want justice.  I want truth.  And I don't want our anger and our grief to overshadow anyone's search for truth.  

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.