The Devil in Pew Number Seven (30 page)

As I finished speaking, I could hear Mr. Watts struggling to regain his composure, fighting the tears as he expressed gratefulness for our forgiveness. While I don’t remember all that he said during that first phone call, it was clear that Mr. Watts experienced the heavy burden of guilt lifting from his heart.

Before we said our good-byes, Mr. Watts told me he wanted to make some sort of restitution. He had set up trust funds for Daniel and for me to receive when we graduated from college. He made it official by putting this in his will. I was stunned and grateful. I accepted his kindness.

Through the next several years, we kept in touch with letters. His written words often echoed the heart of a repentant man. The hardness in his speech that frightened me as a child had melted away into a graciousness and an understanding of second chances. He truly came to the realization that we are all sinners, saved by grace. The grace exhibited by my parents was now something he knew firsthand.

Speaking of the old Mr. Watts, the last time he mailed my parents a letter, it was an unsigned threat promising we’d leave Sellerstown “crawling or walking . . . dead or alive.” About a year after my first phone conversation with the new Mr. Watts, I received the following letter. His words reflected the love and care of a changed man. The contrast between these two pieces of correspondence was as polar opposite as the North is from the South.

His cold, anonymous letter had been typed to obscure any trace of the sender; this message exuded the warmth and crafting of a personally handwritten note. He had been trying for some time without success to come see me. Barring that, he wrote,

August 29, 1988

To: Miss Becky Nichols, Daniel, Dorothy, and Mr. and Mrs. Nichols,

Greetings to all of you,

Looks like it does not work out for me to go see you all. I have talked to several [drivers], none seems to want to go with me but I have not given up hopes. I do want to see you all. As you know, I am 82 years last February 16, not quite as spry as I was once. But the good Lord is helping me. I am enclosing a check for $100. Hope this will help a little. My best wishes and prayers goes with it. And if we never meet here on earth I do hope and pray we will all meet in Heaven when this life is over. May I have your prayers with mine. May God bless you all.

Becky, I am treating you as good or better than any one else except my own family. I would like to see you have a new car when you graduate from college. That [is] what I have done for my 5 children who graduated. Will certainly be glad to help.

Daniel, I plan to do for you the same as for Becky. Be good children. Don’t smoke, drink, or do dope. It can ruin you. Please take this with love and gratitude. Give my love and best wishes to all and please pray for me.

Your sincere friend,

H. J. Watts

P.S. My dear wife expired one year ago today. I miss her so much. Living by myself [is] so sad and lonesome. Again, remember me Becky and Daniel. I have given your names to my lawyer. You will be in my write up. We are still working on my Trust and Will. Let me hear from you when you get to college.

Best wishes, H. J. W.

As difficult as it may be to believe, I accepted his apology. I don’t remember hearing from Mr. Watts again after I received this letter. However, I did learn that he died from cancer in 1991.

I have no doubt that God used the sacrificial love exhibited by my parents to bring Mr. Watts to a saving faith. Although none of us saw that back when the bullets were flying through my window and the bombs were exploding outside in the yard, I can see that now. And you know what? If that’s what it took to bring a lost sheep into the fold, then I’m thankful our Shepherd knew that the hardships we would endure would be used for His purposes. Genesis 50:20 says, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives” (
NIV
).

Yes, life is hard, but God is good.

Chapter 15

No Apologies in Heaven

“I forgive you.”

Those just might be the three most difficult words in the world to say to someone who has wronged you—especially if you mean what you’re saying. Come to think of it, it’s even more difficult to forgive the offender
before
he or she has asked for forgiveness—and virtually impossible to extend forgiveness to a person who, by all appearances, may never apologize for his or her actions.

A friend of mine had a near meltdown when I told her about my first phone conversation with Mr. Watts. I had been reaching out to her for some time. One day while we were dining at a favorite lunch spot, I thought it might be a good idea to tell her the whole account. She knew I was a Christian and was peripherally aware of my early childhood trauma. While I had talked with her about God’s love and His gift of forgiveness over the years, I hadn’t gone into the details of my early life.

From the time I began telling her about the anonymous threatening letters from Mr. Watts, through the sniper shots and bombings he orchestrated, and then to the day when my parents were gunned down, she listened on the proverbial edge of her seat. When I told her Mr. Watts called to say he was sorry—a twist in the story she never saw coming—I could tell she was starting to get feisty.

But when I got to the part where I told Mr. Watts that my brother and I had forgiven him even before he had asked for our forgiveness, my friend became indignant. To say she was visibly angry would be an understatement. Livid might be a more appropriate word. Having attracted stares from the adjacent tables, I actually had to calm her down. I explained that I had no strength within myself to forgive Mr. Watts. Rather, it was the love and power of Jesus that enabled me to extend love to the man who was responsible for the persecution of my family.

Her reaction isn’t uncommon.

In fact, the one question I’m most often asked after sharing my story is, “Becky, how in the world could you
possibly
forgive Mr. Watts for all the horrible things he did to you and your family?” I’m not surprised that people wrestle with that reality. Humanly speaking, it’s natural to think that anyone in my shoes should have the right to seek revenge. Just listen to how we talk when we’re wronged on a much smaller scale than, say, someone bombing your house. We say things like . . .

“It’s payback time!”

“So when are you going to get even with her?”

“Watch me turn the tables on him for messing with me.”

“You’re gonna get what’s coming to you, pal!”

People have this notion that I ought to get my “pound of flesh,” or that I have a right to harbor a deep resentment against the man who vowed to run my parents out of town, who terrorized my childhood, and who got little more than a hand slap on the wrist for his crimes. That’s a tempting response. Maybe it’s your response too.

If so, I don’t fault you for that reaction.

This side of heaven, it’s easy to be preoccupied with settling the score . . . of fighting back . . . of hurting those who have hurt us . . . or, at the very least, withholding forgiveness out of spitefulness to those who have wronged us. I’ve never claimed to be an expert on the subject, but I do know this: If I allow myself to go down the pathway of rage and retaliation, several things happen, and none of them are good. Here are my top four:

My sins will not be forgiven by God if I refuse to forgive those who have sinned against me.

I miss an opportunity to show God’s love to an unforgiving world.

I’m the one who remains in jail when I withhold God’s grace by failing to forgive.

If I have trouble forgiving, it might be because I’m actually angry at God, not at the person who wronged me.

Let’s unpack those briefly, one at a time.

Forgiving As He Forgave Me

Why is forgiving others such a big deal to God? As you might imagine, I’ve had several decades to explore this question. The pain I’ve suffered at the hands of Mr. Watts and Harris Williams, the man who shot my parents, has driven me to dig deep into understanding the heart of Jesus. My personal study can be boiled down to this statement:

Forgiveness is the language of heaven.

What do I mean by that?

Jesus wants us to be fluent in speaking forgiveness to one another. He wants forgiveness to be on the tip of our tongue, rather than something we begrudgingly offer after weeks, months, or even years of rubbing the offense in the face of the culprit before doling out a reluctant “I forgive you.”

Here’s why you and I should practice the language of heaven with the persistence we’d bring to the study of any foreign language. As I’ve thought about it, God’s forgiveness is mankind’s greatest need. Against the backdrop of eternity, the thing you and I need most is
not
food, air, water, shelter, love, money, family, friendship, or a lifetime companion. While those are wonderful things to have, our single greatest need is to be forgiven by God for our sins. Why?

Because the debt we’ve incurred by offending a holy God with our sins is unfathomable. We have no means to repay what we owe Him. A platinum American Express card with an unlimited credit balance wouldn’t cover the down payment. Unless our outstanding debts are paid off—or forgiven and wiped clean—we cannot enter into His presence. And without God’s forgiveness (since He’s the only one who has the means to forgive us of our debts), we remain outcasts, eternally separated from His love, His joy, His peace, and His fellowship.

But because Jesus died on the cross for you and me, He paid the debt we owe. His sacrifice purchased our freedom from the bondage of sin. Because we have been forgiven so much, we have an obligation to forgive others. When I look at it from God’s perspective, I begin to understand why forgiving my husband for the petty things that might upset me, or forgiving my kids when they interrupt me for the thousandth time when I’m on the phone, or forgiving the neighbor who telegraphs his hatred every time I drive by is required of me.

You and I have an obligation to forgive because we’ve been so richly forgiven. In that respect, forgiveness is the language of heaven. That’s the message in Jesus’ parable of the unforgiving servant found in Matthew 18:21-35 and following. Read it sometime, and as you do, don’t overlook the powerful warning at the end: “That’s what my heavenly Father will do to you if you refuse to forgive your brothers and sisters from your heart” (
NLT
).

After teaching His disciples how to pray what has become known as the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus says, “If you forgive those who sin against you, your heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you refuse to forgive others,
your Father will not forgive your sins
” (Matthew 6:14-15,
NLT
, emphasis added). There’s not much wiggle room in that verse, is there?

Jesus doesn’t qualify His statement with a list of disclaimers. Notice what He
doesn’t
say: “But if you refuse to forgive others
except
if it’s your spouse who has cheated on you . . . or a business partner who swindled you out of a fortune . . . or a crazy man living across the street trying to blow up your family. . . .” Nope. Jesus offers no such exceptions.

There are no loopholes.

Plainly and simply put, my sins will not be forgiven if I fail to forgive. That’s the first good reason to forgive.

But . . . when is enough enough?

Peter, a follower of Jesus, once tried to pin down Jesus on this “requirement” of forgiving someone who wronged him. Peter asked, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” I’m a lot like Peter. I like specifics. You tell me I’ve got to forgive others, then I’d like to know what a reasonable number is. Surely there’s a limit, right? Seven sounds reasonable; it’s much more generous than the “three strikes and you’re out” rule.

Watch how Jesus answers Peter: “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven” (Matthew 18:22,
NASB
). I’m tempted to do the math. I’ve got my pen and notepad out with a series of little marks grouped in units of five so I can easily keep track of my progress. Let’s see, over the last three decades I’ve forgiven Mr. Watts 475 times . . . 480 . . . 485 . . .

I’m pretty sure that’s not what Jesus had in mind.

I think Jesus was saying that you and I should forgive so many times that it
becomes second nature to us
. If forgiveness is the language of heaven, then forgiveness should be
a way of life
for me. Notice, I didn’t say it should be easy. It’s not. I won’t sugarcoat it for you. In my case, I’m tempted to protest and say, “But, Lord, I’m on number 489. Will I
still
have to forgive Harris in my heart after forgiving him 490 times?”

Frankly, I’ve missed His heart if that’s my thinking.

It’s not about counting; it’s about grace.

God will never say it’s okay
not
to forgive.

Personally, I want forgiveness to become my heavenly habit, not an obligation. There’s a big difference. The first approach reflects a lifestyle that flows from God’s Kingdom and changes my way of operating in all my earthly relationships. The other approach is all about duty; it’s about as heartfelt as paying income taxes.