God, in His grace, has done many awesome things in my life. But I haven’t been immune from sin. Far from it.

Sexual sins were my greatest problem when I was young. I believe a big part of it started when I was about ten, after my uncle, Father Joe (a Catholic priest) molested me. Those sickening memories haunted me until my mid-30s.

As a result, for many years I despised homosexuals. When a blantantly effeminate man would serve me in a restaurant, I would get very angry and often wanted to leave. My frustration and anger grew to a boiling point until shortly after my uncle died. Before his death I was too embarrassed to tell anyone about what had happened, and I doubted anyone would believe me. But when my mother — Father Joe’s sister — asked me to go to his funeral, I wouldn’t do it, and I told her why.

Just as I had always feared, I don’t think she believed me. Regardless, I started getting more out-spoken and angry around gays, which made my wife very uncomfortable.

Eventually, in my frustration and anger, I actually called the Catholic bishop’s office in Washington, DC. I’m not sure why, or what I planned to say. I only I knew I wanted to spew something hurtful and ugly. I wanted revenge.

 I didn’t get any further than the bishop’s secretary, who was an effeminate-sounding male. He screened my call, and asked why I was calling. I told him what had happened when I was a kid. He was barely polite when he informed me that there was no way he was going to put the call through… my anger turned to rage.

Not knowing where to turn, I called the local Catholic church that was only a mile or two from my office. A polite woman answered the phone. Without going into any detail, I asked to speak to a priest. She suggested I come over and visit, so I did.

Our Lady of Nazareth Catholic Church, Roanoke, Va.

When I got to the office, the secretary took me straight into the priest’s office. He was a thin, short, white-haired little-old-man. As I walked through the door he placed two chairs about four feet from each other and asked me to sit down facing him. Then like a gentle grandfather he asked, “How can I help you?”

I actually didn’t believe he could help. The decades-old incident was followed by so many sins that I couldn’t begin to imagine how he could help. So I angrily blurted out what had happened 25 years before. A minute or two later, when I was finished expressing my hatred and anger, he asked me a simple question:

“Do you want to be healed?”

What kind of question was that? Of course I want to be healed! But how?

He slowly and calmly said, “Close your eyes. Imagine your uncle standing on your left side, and imagine Jesus standing on your right. Now tell your uncle that you forgive him.”

I thought it was a wierd request and it felt a little creepy. But I was so desperate that I was ready to try anything. Despite how strange it seemed, I closed my eyes, imagined my uncle next to me, and said, “Father Joe, I forgive you.”

Then the priest said, “Now tell Jesus that you forgive your uncle.”

I did.

Immediately after I said, “Jesus, I forgive my uncle,” the priest prayed for me and it was over.

No, I mean it was finally, totally over. The anger, hatred, frustration, guilt, everything about it was over. Gone. For the first time in 25 years, I felt clean, forgiven, and ready to start a new life.

Some of my Protestant friends may struggle with the theology of what happened to me with that little white-haired man. I won’t defend it. I can’t explain it. But after more than 20 years, I know it worked. So if you frequently find yourself angry, hateful, or frustrated, give some thought to forgiveness — for your own sanity, as well as those around you.

For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.                        – Matthew 6:14-15