She Could Only Know Peace Through Forgiveness (Part 3)

In continuation about last week devotion on forgiveness, let’s take a look on this final episode how the author forgave the man who killed her entire family….

I watched through Semana’s office window as he crossed a courtyard to a cell and then returned, shoving a disheveled old man in front of him. I was startled as they approached, recognizing the man instantly. Felicien was a successful Hutu businessman whose children I’d played with in primary school. He’d been a tall, handsome man who wore expensive suits and had impeccable manners. I shivered when I suddenly realized it had been his voice I’d heard calling my name when the killers searched for me at the pastor’s.

Semana pushed Felicien into the office. He stumbled onto his knees. When he looked up from the floor and saw me, he quickly shifted his gaze and stared at the floor. “Explain to Immaculée why her family is dead. Explain to her why you murdered her mother and butchered her brother,” Semana shouted. “Get up and tell her!” The man remained hunched. He couldn’t face me. His tattered clothing hung from his emaciated frame, his skin sallow and bruised. His face was hidden beneath a filthy beard, his bare feet covered in open sores. He was broken.

“He looted your parents’ home and robbed your family’s plantation. We found your dad’s farm machinery at his house. After he killed your mother and Damascene, he kept looking for you. He wanted to kill you too. Didn’t you, Felicien?”

Felicien didn’t answer. He, too, had become the victim of his hatred. Unexpectedly, I wept at seeing his suffering. Semana looked at me, stunned by the tears streaming down my face. He grabbed Felicien and hauled him to his feet. “What do you have to say to Immaculée?”

Felicien sobbed. I could feel his shame. He looked up at me for only a moment, but our eyes met. I reached out, touched his hands lightly and said, “I forgive you.” That, I suddenly understood, was why God had led me back to my village with a dream.
Semana pushed Felicien out the door. Two soldiers yanked him up by his armpits and dragged him back toward his cell. When Semana returned, he was furious. “What was that about, Immaculée? That was the man who murdered your family. I brought him to you to question…to spit on if you wanted to. But you forgave him! How could you?”

“Forgiveness is all I have to offer.” It was true: I did not feel hatred. I did not seek revenge. In my heart, I understood that even the killers were part of God’s family, and I could honor God only by forgiving. This was how to be a peacemaker.

Now, when I watch the waves wash over the Long Island coastline and think of my family by the shores of Lake Kivu, I feel waves of forgiveness wash over me—consoling me. There is still so much pain in the hearts of my people, pain I want to help ease. When I take my children to Rwanda, we visit the children orphaned by the genocide. My prayer for them is that they will be loved and will give love in a beautiful and beloved country that is slowly, steadily starting to heal.

Immaculee Ilibagiza, who now lives in Elmira, New York with her husband and two wonderful children.


source: www.immaculee.com