Forgiven and forgiving
Each time the invitation to the table was offered he sat silently in the pew. Others would excuse themselves as they passed in front of him, but he never moved. When I visited him at his home, I cautiously broached the subject. "I can't do it," he answered. "I can't come to the table. You see, in Vietnam I killed a man. I don't think God could ever forgive me for that."
As we sat in my office tears welled up in her eyes. "I hate him. I can't believe I'm saying it, but I hate my own son-in-law. I hate what he's done to my daughter and now what it's doing to my grandchildren. You may have noticed, Pastor, that I get up halfway through the service and leave. I feel like such a hypocrite, harboring these feelings while trying to worship God. I just can't do it anymore."
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