When it  comes to holding us back from living the life our Heavenly Father wants us to have--a life of freedom, peace, and unmitigated joy--there aren't many shackles stronger than an unforgiving spirit.

God makes a straightforward promise to us in I John 1:9: If we confess our sins He will forgive us.  He will wipe our indiscretions away, then scrub us clean from the stains our sins often leave behind. What a liberating thought: If we come clean, we will be clean.

But there's a catch. God's stipulation is that His children not just experience His forgiveness, but that we extend it. In fact, His forgiving us is dependent on our forgiving others (Matt. 6:15).

Whoa. God can't mean that, can He? We're supposed to forgive parents who have abused us? God wants us to forgive ex-spouses who have betrayed us? He is asking us to forgive people who have hurt us, destroyed our reputation, and who have showed zero remorse and would do it all over again if given the chance?

The answer is yes.

When it comes to experiencing all that our Heavenly Father has to offer us, we must be on both the receiving and giving ends of forgiveness. Offering forgiveness to others, no matter how gut-wrenching their infraction, is not optional. Forgiveness is not always easy. It is not always fair. But it never optional.

The weight of unforgiveness can be paralyzing. If left unresolved, the offenses of others can dominate our thoughts, destroy our bodies, and deplete our souls. We must offer forgiveness not because the offending party deserves it. We must offer forgiveness because we deserve it. 
 
Leonardo daVinvi’s masterpiece, the Last Supper, is one of his most memorable works. The story is told that there was a bit of a delay in completion of that painting. It seems that when daVinci was putting the finishing touches on his project he had a violent disagreement with a man. Leonardo became so incensed that he lashed out at the man, threatening to harm him.

After the incident, still seething, da Vinci went back to his place to continue work on painting. He was up to the point of painting face of Jesus. But he found that he couldn’t do it. There was too much evil stirring inside him. He was angry. He was consumed by thoughts of vengeance.

Robbed of inner peace, daVinci knew what he had to do. He put down his brushes, left his unfinished painting, and went looking for the man he fought with. When he found him he asked his forgiveness. Only when he was freed from the bonds of unforgiveness could daVinci return to his studio and paint the face of the Savior who had forgiven him.
 
Forgiving others does not mean that we are absolving them from their actions. It does not mean we are giving them a pass. It does not always mean that relationships are fully restored. It means that we are so deeply grateful for the way that our God has treated us despite our unworthiness that we long to treat others the same way.

Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger, harsh words, and slander, as well as all types of evil behavior. Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.--​Eph. 4:31-32.

The old school way of housetraining a dog was simple. When Fido made a mess on the floor, you rubbed his nose in it.

Professional dog trainers agree: This method never works.

Rubbing a dog’s nose in his mess will never lead him to the conclusion that he should from now on do his business outside. Women often complain about men’s scatological customs, but a dog’s embedded bathroom etiquette consists of one rule: Don’t poop or pee next to the feeding dish.

Research has shown that rubbing a dog’s nose in his mess is not only ineffective in terms of preventing carpet stains, but often leads to a number of troublesome behaviors:

• The dog may become fearful of those in “authority.”
• He may hide when he has to go.
• He may become aggressive toward people or animals of lower status.
• He may isolate himself.
• He may forget how to play.  
  

Rubbing a dog’s nose in his mess does not serve to make him more obedient. Maybe more afraid, more angry, more aggressive, more reclusive, more dispirited. But not more obedient.

The same holds true for people. How I wish some parents understood this. How I wish the church understood this. 

We have all made messes from time to time. We have all done things we’re not particularly proud of. We have all made mistakes. And we all have those people in our lives who take pleasure in rubbing our noses in what we've done; people who find some sick satisfaction in heaping shame on our heads, continually pointing at the stains of our sins to insure that we feel duly bad about what we’ve done so that we will never do it again.

The results are similar to those of a dog who experiences such treatment. It does not instill a desire to modify sinful behavior. Rather, it teaches responses that are even more problematic. When others rub our noses in our mess:

• We learn to fear those in “authority.”
• Instead of stopping our sinful behaviors we simply learn to hide them.
• We learn that we can feel better about ourselves when we put others down.
• We learn to isolate ourselves so we don’t get hurt.
• We experience less and less joy and more and more shame.  
  

Actually, shame is the one thing that separates our response from that of a dog. Unlike us humans, dogs are incapable of feeling shame. When I see how some dog lovers dress their animals in ridiculous sweaters, dresses--even Halloween costumes--I envy a dog’s incapacity for shame. Yet, because it has been so ingrained in me, I find myself feeling shame on their behalf.

When He walked this earth, Jesus modeled for us how we are to treat others. And never once did He use shame in His response to sinners. Instead, he met people in the depth of their sin and guilt and shame and offered them healing, hope, and forgiveness. He longs to do the same with you and me.

Others may condemn us for things we’ve done. We may condemn ourselves. But the Bible tells us that there is no condemnation in Christ. None. No matter how big a mess we’ve made in our lives, we need never fear that Jesus will yell at us that we’re bad or swat us with rolled up Scriptures until we slink away, our tails between our legs. 

Shame is destructive. We must avoid it if we are to soar like eagles as God intends for us to do. That may mean setting boundaries with certain family members. It may mean "unfriending" people whose expectations we can't meet. It may mean finding a new church.

Then, we must turn to the One who wants to free us from our shame. He--and only He--can restore in us what shame strips away: dignity, honor, and worth.  And we will find that we don't make nearly as many messes as we used to.