Closure

There's something about an open drawer or cupboard that makes us automatically stretch out a hand to close it. Open books make us reach for a bookmark and close the cover. It's just neater and tidier that way, right?

Humans like closure. We like to finish our sentences instead of being interrupted. We prefer to watch a movie rather than its tv mini-series counterpart. We hate leftovers from dinner.

When it comes to painful interactions, though, our desire for closure wars with our vision of what the appropriate closure should be. When a murder is committed, we want to see the killer caught and sentenced to jail. For some people, that is not enough: they want to see the killer executed. One person's closure is another's cupboard door hanging open. That door is easy to close when it's my own cupboard; when it's in someone's home where I am a guest, though, I may be out of line to act.

When we've been hurt, many issues come into play. The offender, the actual action(s), our response, our baggage - and that's just the starting lineup. That cupboard begins to look more like a pantry filled with shelves and drawers and cupboards - all hanging open.

We cannot control the consequences to the offender. We can't make the offender recognize the impact of the offense, take responsibility, or feel remorse. We cannot make sure the offender pays the price. Those are the pantry cupboards and drawers we can't close.

What we can do is close the pantry so we don't have to look at them. We do that by recognizing the injury and turning it over to God. By letting it go. By letting God be God in this matter. We close the door, turn off the light, and put the matter to rest. Closure.

For some of us, that is not going to happen. Sometimes, we just need more support to get there. Sometimes, we consider the matter and choose not to go there at all. For whatever reason, refusing to let go seems to be worth living with with the pain of unforgiveness. I don't mean to make that sound noble or strong or valiant because it isn't.

Wisdom means recognizing what is and is not within our control - remember the Serenity Prayer? Wisdom to know the difference. Wisdom also means to ability to understand things on a deeper level.

On a deeper level, we all pay the price for our misdeeds. Our bodies punish our guilt even as our lips proclaim our innocence. Wrongdoing always impacts our self-esteem; we can deny it and put on the mask, but our hearts know and that knowledge has an impact of its own. And, of course, we have the Maude principle: God'll get you for that. Maude Findlay may not have been the most forgiving of tv characters, but she understood that we will all answer for our actions.

Offenders will always pay for their crimes, either in this world or the next. Our decision whether to forgive will determine whether we foot part of the bill.