This is part 7 of a 10-part series on my 3-month sabbatical during the summer of 2024.  This series has two purposes— 1) to motivate and equip others to take a restorative break from work, and 2) to share insights I gained during my time away.  To start at the beginning of the series, go here.

Remembering the Wounding

In 1986, I was 15.  I lived with my family on a ¾-acre tree-filled lot.  After a summer storm, my dad told me to go in the backyard and pick up all the limbs and sticks that had blown down.  I thought I had something better to do, so I angrily began the work.  I was flailing limbs all over the yard, and in the process, breaking off twigs from the limbs, making an even bigger mess.  My dad, a structure and order guy, came out and said, “No, do it right.”  I wheeled on him, pointed my finger at him, and said, “You get to tell me to do the work, not how to do it.”  This enraged him.  He grabbed me and pulled me into the house.  I resisted, and he punched me in the jaw as he was dragging me down the hall.  I had a thought that I was big enough that I could fight him and hold my own.  However, I felt that physically fighting my dad would cross a moral line I wasn’t willing to cross.  He threw me onto my bed, started whipping me repeatedly with his belt, and commanded, “Turn over!”  “Why?” I sobbed.  More whipping and “Turn over!”  I eventually turned over and he whipped my ass with the belt a few times.  I had welts on my arms and backside for days.  

I’ll note for the record that this was unusual.  I had felt Dad’s judgment and disappointment before, but never with such intense physicality.  

As an important side note, my mom was in the house while this was occurring, but steered well clear of the action.  She didn’t intervene or engage in any way to protect me.

Psychologists identify 2 types of trauma, sometimes called Type A and Type B trauma.  Type B trauma is when we experience something harmful and damaging.  Type A is when we don’t experience something necessary for our health and growth.  That day, I experienced both.  My panicked father inflicted some soul wounds with a belt, and my mother, paralyzed by uncertainty, inflicted some soul wounds through her absence.

As I reflect on my life, this is the incident that I find the most traumatic– the most wounding to my soul.  From that day’s events, I drew the (incorrect) conclusion that I couldn’t count on others to take care of me— that I had to toughen up and take care of myself.

Since our view of God is distorted by how we experience our human parents, I’ve historically seen God as emotionally distant, stern, judgmental (some of Dad there) and also not present in times of crisis (some of Mom there).

I know that I have lived a charmed life and that what I experienced that day wasn’t nearly as bad as what many have endured.  Yet, it felt extreme to me, and it left a mark.  I carried the wound, and the resentment, for 37 years.  Over the past 6 years, I’ve taken deliberate steps to build a healthier relationship with my parents, including several uncomfortable conversations.  But this wounding from my adolescence felt like a key sticking point.  I wanted both of my parents to admit how very wrong they were.  I wanted…  something.  Something they weren’t readily offering up.

Forgiving

My spiritual director encouraged me to read a book called Soul Care by Rob Reimer during my sabbatical.  The book took a weird turn at the end (so I can’t give it a full-throated endorsement), but I found most of it extremely helpful.  One major theme was forgiveness.  Rob exhorted his readers to notice any damaged relationships and consciously forgive any wrongs against us— seventy times seven times, if necessary.  God used this book to direct my gaze towards a few relationships, including my parents.

My heart was also softer than usual because of my increasing awareness of my own brokenness and character deficiencies.  This put me in a better posture to receive what came next.

During my silent retreat, through the colloquy practice, God healed something in me, and I just let go of my desire for my Dad and Mom to repent (change) or acknowledge any wrongdoing at all.  It struck me that my wife Kim loves me more than anyone else in the world loves me— she chose me— and keeps choosing me.  But my parents aren’t far behind, tied for second place.  Their parenting was animated by that love— in the clumsy, imperfect way we humans engage each other.  They did the best they could, given their level of (im)maturity at the time.  And I didn’t make it easy for them.  I imagine it was quite difficult to parent such a willful human as me.

For the first time in my life, I understood that forgiveness isn’t dependent on anyone else.  That statement seems simple and obvious now, but it wasn’t how I was living my life.  And I started understanding that maintaining resentment creates a heavy and completely unnecessary burden. 

In all human relationships, even those characterized primarily by love, we wound each other.  The trick is cleaning up that mess, through apologies, making amends, and forgiveness.

Two weeks after the silent retreat, I set up a lunch with each of my parents separately.  In these meetings, we covered three topics (all catalyzed by this powerful work of healing that God was doing in my heart):

1. I verbally forgave them for any wounding I experienced at their hands (including the events from 37 years ago).
2. I apologized to each of them for my own behaviors that might have wounded them.  What was particularly powerful for my Enneagram 1 father was when I apologized for not accepting him for who he is.  For my Enneagram 9 mom, I apologized for dismissing her.  That landed favorably.
3. I thanked each of them for the positive legacy they’ve left me.  From my dad I received diligence, a focus on quality, a structured way of thinking, and a passion for reaching out to the person at the edge of the room that no one is talking to.  From my mom, I received creativity, a passion for words, artistic expression, and an ability to connect deeply and emotionally with people.  I don’t have these characteristics to the same degree they each do, but what I do have, I know I received from them.  

Healing

These conversations with my parents were powerful and healing.  It felt like a reconciliation— a reconnection at a deep level.  Sometimes when I forgive someone, contempt and hostility find their way back into my heart, and I have to let go once again (70 times 7?).  But this time, with my parents, I knew (and still know) it was different.  I’ve dropped it, letting go completely, and I’m not picking it back up again.  This isn’t through my willpower or strength of character— there’s simply no desire to go back to that self-defeating and unhealthy mindset.  Something broke free in me.  And I credit God’s healing work.

I once heard Suzanne Stabile say “It’s none of your business what God is doing in your heart.”  God’s healing work is mysterious, and sometimes so slow we don’t even notice it except in retrospect (like a cut healing over time into a scar).  One thing I know from experience is that naming the place I want healing and consciously opening myself to healing seem to invite Divine action in a way that more passive approaches don’t.  I don’t know why that’s true, but I’ve seen the pattern too many times to ignore it.

Once I truly forgave my parents, I realized how free I felt— like two boulders had been removed from my backpack.  After a couple more apologies to former work colleagues, I felt even more light.  I thought, “I’m free and clear. I’m walking in peace with all men.”  But that self-delusion didn’t last long.  Within a couple of days, I noticed some deep-seated hostility bubble up towards two people I came in contact with, whom I hadn’t seen in a while.  And I realized there’s probably even more resentment inside me that I need to address— more I need to let go of, to forgive.  The Lord keeps directing my gaze to my defects, and still there is no shame or condemnation, just love from a gentle, playful God.  

Now that I have a few reps in my body of forgiving fully, I’m craving more.  I know my folks are going to do things that hurt me, and I’ll also hurt them.  They’re human, and so am I.  But I also know it’s going to be all right.  They (and I) are doing the best we can.  And it’s none of our business what God is doing in our hearts.

Summary

1. There are 2 types of trauma— type A (absence of healthy experiences) and B (presence of unhealthy experiences).  Both cause soul wounds that require healing.
2. Forgiveness is not dependent on the other in any way.
3. Forgiveness relieves us of an unhealthy and unnecessary burden. 
4. Inner healing occurs best when we’re aware of our brokenness, name it, and invite Divine action.

Next up: Part 8 – Re-Entry

If you have any thoughts on this topic, feel free to engage with it over on LinkedIn

Chip Neidigh is Founder and CEO at Kairos, where he and his colleagues help CEOs build elite executive teams.  Want to be notified when we post articles that invite a journey into more courageous and selfless leadership? Sign up for The Kairos Moment, our monthly(ish) email alert.