The Fence You Keep Rebuilding

There is a man in many districts, and you may know one like him. Twenty years ago his neighbour moved a boundary fence two feet onto his land. There was a survey, a quarrel, a threat of court. In the end the fence was moved back. The neighbour has since died, and his children sold the property to a young couple who know nothing about any of it.

The man still checks the fence every morning. He still tells the story to anyone who stops at his gate. His own children roll their eyes when he starts. “Daddy, we know. It done.” And he says, “Yes, but you don’t understand what that man did.”

The fence on the ground was fixed long ago. The one he keeps rebuilding is in his heart.

A hard saying

Straight after teaching His disciples the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus added a comment on one line of it. He said, in effect, that if we forgive others their wrongs, our heavenly Father will forgive us, but if we refuse to forgive, neither will our Father forgive our wrongs (Matthew 6:14-15).

It is one of the most uncomfortable things Jesus ever said. We would prefer forgiveness to be a gift with no strings. And in one sense it is: we cannot earn it. But Jesus is describing a heart condition. A heart clenched tight around a grudge is not open to receive mercy. The same hand cannot hold on to a grievance and reach out for grace at the same time.

Why property grudges last so long

Disputes over land and houses seem to cut especially deep. Perhaps it is because a home is tied up with security, with family history and with years of hard-earned money. A sibling who takes more than their share of the family land has not just taken dirt. They have, it feels, taken our father’s blessing. A tenant who leaves owing months of rent and a wrecked kitchen has not just cost us money. They have made us feel foolish for trusting.

And property is always there. You cannot avoid it the way you might avoid a person. You see the fence every morning. You drive past the house every Sunday. The wound is reopened by the view from your own window.

The root that spreads

The writer of Hebrews warns about “any root of bitterness springing up” that causes trouble and defiles many (Hebrews 12:15). Anyone who has tried to dig out an old tree stump from a yard understands the picture. The roots go further than you expect. They crack the path. They lift the edge of the house.

Bitterness works the same way. It rarely stays with the original offence. The man at the fence has grown suspicious of every new neighbour. He has quarrelled with his own son over who will inherit his land, afraid of being cheated again. His grandchildren know him as the one who is always angry. The root has spread under the whole household.

What forgiveness looks like here

Forgiving does not mean the boundary did not matter, or that you should never have had the land surveyed. Justice and good records are right and proper. You can protect your property through the proper channels and still refuse to let bitterness own you.

Forgiveness is more like cancelling a debt you are owed. You decide that the other person no longer owes you the apology, the admission or the suffering you have been waiting for. You hand the account to God, who judges fairly. Then, when the old anger rises again, as it will, you hand it over again.

For some, a practical step helps mark the change. Replant the hedge along the old line. Invite the new neighbours for a cup of tea. Write the story down one last time, then put it away. Talk it through with a pastor or someone you trust. None of these things is forgiveness itself, but they can help the heart catch up with the decision.

A matter of life and freedom

The original title of this reflection called forgiveness a heaven or hell issue, and Jesus’ words suggest it is at least that serious. But it is also a matter of how we live now. Unforgiveness makes our homes smaller and our yards more fenced in. Forgiveness gives us back the morning: a walk past the boundary without the old tightening in the chest, a conversation with the children that does not end with “you don’t understand”.

For reflection

• Is there a fence, a house, a tenancy or a family arrangement that still stirs anger in me every time I think of it?
• What would it look like to cancel that debt before God today, even if I have to do it again tomorrow?

A prayer: Father, You have forgiven me more than I can measure. I do not want bitterness to be the thing my family remembers about me. Help me to release those who have wronged me over land, money or home, and heal the roots that have spread under my household. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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