Sometimes people ask me about a problem, about what to do. They ask about something difficult, like what to do about the hate they feel.

They say, “I hate him. I hate her. I hate what they did to their family. I hate what they did to me.” They say, “I know God says to forgive. I know God says we are supposed to love everyone. But I hate him.”

And then they look at me across my desk, across the screen. And their hands are twisting the handle of the coffee mug off.

And I understand.

I completely understand the pain and betrayal. And the sudden awareness that maybe there is evil and maybe promises do stand for something and that when I look in the mirror I am fully aware that I am not perfect.

But for all the thoughts running through my head, the person is still sitting across the desk. Waiting.

At those moments, I get up. I walk around the desk. I sit next to the person asking the questions.

At those moments when I am going to be looking at the Bible for the answer, I want to look with, I want to be on the same side of the book, I want to be able to say “that is hard” and “I don’t know how to do it either, but that doesn’t make it not true.”

And then we look at where Jesus says, “love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” And then we look at where Jesus says, “Father forgive them”. And we say, “How the hell do we forgive?” and then we know that it’s hell that creates the need to forgive. And we cry out to the one who interceded for his murderers.

And ask for help.