People have this notion that I ought to get my "pound of flesh," or that I have a right to harbor a deep resentment against the man who vowed to run my parents out of town, who terrorized my childhood, and who got little more than a hand slap on the wrist for his crimes. That's a tempting response. Maybe it's your response too.

If so, I don't fault you for that reaction.

This side of heaven, it's easy to be preoccupied with settling the score . . . of fighting back . . . of hurting those who have hurt us ... or, at the very least, withholding forgiveness out of spitefulness to those who have wronged us. I've never claimed to be an expert on the subject, but I do know this: If I allow myself to go down the pathway of rage and retaliation, several things happen, and none of them are good. Here are my top four: My sins will not be forgiven by G.o.d if I refuse to forgive those who have sinned against me.I miss an opportunity to show G.o.d's love to an unforgiving world.I'm the one who remains in jail when I withhold G.o.d's grace by failing to forgive.If I have trouble forgiving, it might be because I'm actually angry at G.o.d, not at the person who wronged me.

Let's unpack those briefly, one at a time.

Forgiving As He Forgave Me Why is forgiving others such a big deal to G.o.d? As you might imagine, I've had several decades to explore this question. The pain I've suffered at the hands of Mr. Watts and Harris Williams, the man who shot my parents, has driven me to dig deep into understanding the heart of Jesus. My personal study can be boiled down to this statement: Forgiveness is the language of heaven.

What do I mean by that?

Jesus wants us to be fluent in speaking forgiveness to one another. He wants forgiveness to be on the tip of our tongue, rather than something we begrudgingly offer after weeks, months, or even years of rubbing the offense in the face of the culprit before doling out a reluctant "I forgive you."

Here's why you and I should practice the language of heaven with the persistence we'd bring to the study of any foreign language. As I've thought about it, G.o.d's forgiveness is mankind's greatest need. Against the backdrop of eternity, the thing you and I need most is not not food, air, water, shelter, love, money, family, friendship, or a lifetime companion. While those are wonderful things to have, our single greatest need is to be forgiven by G.o.d for our sins. Why? food, air, water, shelter, love, money, family, friendship, or a lifetime companion. While those are wonderful things to have, our single greatest need is to be forgiven by G.o.d for our sins. Why?

Because the debt we've incurred by offending a holy G.o.d with our sins is unfathomable. We have no means to repay what we owe Him. A platinum American Express card with an unlimited credit balance wouldn't cover the down payment. Unless our outstanding debts are paid off-or forgiven and wiped clean-we cannot enter into His presence. And without G.o.d's forgiveness (since He's the only one who has the means to forgive us of our debts), we remain outcasts, eternally separated from His love, His joy, His peace, and His fellowship.

But because Jesus died on the cross for you and me, He paid the debt we owe. His sacrifice purchased our freedom from the bondage of sin. Because we have been forgiven so much, we have an obligation to forgive others. When I look at it from G.o.d's perspective, I begin to understand why forgiving my husband for the petty things that might upset me, or forgiving my kids when they interrupt me for the thousandth time when I'm on the phone, or forgiving the neighbor who telegraphs his hatred every time I drive by is required of me.

You and I have an obligation to forgive because we've been so richly forgiven. In that respect, forgiveness is the language of heaven. That's the message in Jesus' parable of the unforgiving servant found in Matthew 18:21-35 and following. Read it sometime, and as you do, don't overlook the powerful warning at the end: "That's what my heavenly Father will do to you if you refuse to forgive your brothers and sisters from your heart" (NLT).

After teaching His disciples how to pray what has become known as the Lord's Prayer, Jesus says, "If you forgive those who sin against you, your heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you refuse to forgive others, your Father will not forgive your sins your Father will not forgive your sins" (Matthew 6:14-15, NLT NLT, emphasis added). There's not much wiggle room in that verse, is there?

Jesus doesn't qualify His statement with a list of disclaimers. Notice what He doesn't doesn't say: "But if you refuse to forgive others say: "But if you refuse to forgive others except except if it's your spouse who has cheated on you . . . or a business partner who swindled you out of a fortune . . . or a crazy man living across the street trying to blow up your family. . . ." Nope. Jesus offers no such exceptions. if it's your spouse who has cheated on you . . . or a business partner who swindled you out of a fortune . . . or a crazy man living across the street trying to blow up your family. . . ." Nope. Jesus offers no such exceptions.

There are no loopholes.

Plainly and simply put, my sins will not be forgiven if I fail to forgive. That's the first good reason to forgive.

But . . . when is enough enough?

Peter, a follower of Jesus, once tried to pin down Jesus on this "requirement" of forgiving someone who wronged him. Peter asked, "Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?" I'm a lot like Peter. I like specifics. You tell me I've got to forgive others, then I'd like to know what a reasonable number is. Surely there's a limit, right? Seven sounds reasonable; it's much more generous than the "three strikes and you're out" rule.

Watch how Jesus answers Peter: "I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven" (Matthew 18:22, NASB NASB). I'm tempted to do the math. I've got my pen and notepad out with a series of little marks grouped in units of five so I can easily keep track of my progress. Let's see, over the last three decades I've forgiven Mr. Watts 475 times . . . 480 . . . 485 . . .

I'm pretty sure that's not what Jesus had in mind.

I think Jesus was saying that you and I should forgive so many times that it becomes second nature to us becomes second nature to us. If forgiveness is the language of heaven, then forgiveness should be a way of life a way of life for me. Notice, I didn't say it should be easy. It's not. I won't sugarcoat it for you. In my case, I'm tempted to protest and say, "But, Lord, I'm on number 489. Will I for me. Notice, I didn't say it should be easy. It's not. I won't sugarcoat it for you. In my case, I'm tempted to protest and say, "But, Lord, I'm on number 489. Will I still still have to forgive Harris in my heart after forgiving him 490 times?" have to forgive Harris in my heart after forgiving him 490 times?"

Frankly, I've missed His heart if that's my thinking.

It's not about counting; it's about grace.

G.o.d will never say it's okay not not to forgive. to forgive.

Personally, I want forgiveness to become my heavenly habit, not an obligation. There's a big difference. The first approach reflects a lifestyle that flows from G.o.d's Kingdom and changes my way of operating in all my earthly relationships. The other approach is all about duty; it's about as heartfelt as paying income taxes.

For the Love of G.o.d Second, I have an opportunity to display G.o.d's love whenever I offer forgiveness in the face of hatred, personal betrayal, and persecution. When I forgive, that act of divinely inspired grace allows me to become a light in a dark world, pointing the way to Jesus. Make no mistake about it. People are observing you and me to see how we, as Christians, deal with the hard knocks of life. When they see that we've been wronged, offended, wounded, ripped off, shortchanged, or "done a wrong turn," our response can either attract those who are watching us to the Savior or give them yet another excuse not to follow Him.

Jesus said, "In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven" (Matthew 5:16, NIV NIV). I've got to admit, while I desire to be a light for Christ, while I can think of nothing more important than to be a living tribute to His grace, this can be a challenge when you've been hurt as deeply as I have been wounded. I'll be the first to admit that it's easy for the bitterness from the past to surface and weasel its ugly taproot into my heart.

To be perfectly blunt, when you finish reading this book, when you place it on the shelf or pa.s.s it along to a friend, that's it-you're done. You get to move on from my story to other worthy books if you choose to do so. Our lives will have intersected for a moment in time, and for that I'm grateful. But long after you've put down the book, I'll still be carrying the story in my heart every waking hour-and it still sometimes pops up at the most unexpected moments.

Like the time when I, at age thirty-five, was sharing a meal with friends at a restaurant. We had just watched a movie with a lot of violence. As the conversation turned to other violent and scary films, I found myself alone, transported into my own world without anyone knowing I had mentally checked out.

I pretended to be engaged in the exchange but in my mind I was suddenly a five-year-old all over again . . . in my bed . . . eyes wide open . . . scared . . . listening to the footsteps outside my window. The unnerving sound of a home intrusion spiked my heart; someone uninvited was on our property. I could hear the gra.s.s yield under each step.

Was there more than one a.s.sailant in our yard? Were they outside my window? Were they going to come in our house this time or continue to hide in the blackness of night until the moment when they'd launch their attack? Should I scream? If I did, they'd know where I was. I had been taught to remain quiet, to keep the lights off, to stay away from the windows-and to get down if I heard gunshots. But this time would it be another round of bullets flying through my window or the blast of a bomb?

Before something bad could happen, I willed myself to join the present moment and reenter the conversation with my friends. Even though we were sitting close around the table, they had no idea I had been alone in my own frightful world of memories. Sure, I tried to appear interested in the banter over film violence, but somehow I couldn't escape the questions I had had as a five-year-old: Am I safe now? Will I ever be safe? When the sun comes up, will this nightmare finally be over?

Even though the events took place thirty years prior to the movie night out with friends, an old wound was cut open. The trauma required more than a few days for me to get over. I went to my Bible, as I have done so many desperate times before, to find healing and peace once again. I had to remind myself that G.o.d promised to be with me every second of every day. He said, "Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your G.o.d. I will strengthen you, yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand" (Isaiah 41:10, NKJV NKJV).

Even when I'm alone with my thoughts.

I didn't ask for this abrasion on my soul to be a part of my life; it just is. Now, day after day, I have the choice to forgive the two men who took so much from me, or I can choose to wallow in a toxic brew of bitterness. True, I forgave Harris Williams a long time ago. But that doesn't mean I still don't have to forgive him again and again . . . on my mother's birthday when she's not there for us to celebrate her . . . every Easter because that was the season when gunshots cut down my parents and shattered my world, and the list goes on and on.

Don't get me wrong.

I'm not suggesting I'm the only person who has experienced deep and abiding hurt. Far from it. In this fallen world, all of us have had-or will soon experience-wrongdoing at the hands of others. Some of those actions are petty, bush-league stuff; other actions cause major leaguesize wounds. Maybe you were molested as a child, or were raped, or live with a verbally abusive spouse, or are haunted by the mean-spirited p.r.o.nouncements of a friend who betrayed you. You and I cannot walk away from what's been done to us.

At the same time, as crazy as it sounds, we're commanded commanded to speak the language of heaven, to forgive as we have been forgiven-generously, fully, and freely. That means we forgive with no strings attached; that may require us to forgive repeatedly. When we do, we shock the world with G.o.d's power at work within us. When they shake their heads in wonderment, when they struggle to understand how anyone could forgive like that, we have the opportunity to point them to the Cross, the ultimate act of forgiveness. to speak the language of heaven, to forgive as we have been forgiven-generously, fully, and freely. That means we forgive with no strings attached; that may require us to forgive repeatedly. When we do, we shock the world with G.o.d's power at work within us. When they shake their heads in wonderment, when they struggle to understand how anyone could forgive like that, we have the opportunity to point them to the Cross, the ultimate act of forgiveness.

Get Out of Jail The third lesson I've come to discover in my journey of forgiveness is that I'm the one who remains in jail if I withhold G.o.d's grace by failing to forgive when wronged. As I've presented my testimony at various women's conferences, someone invariably approaches me with her "strategy." She views withholding forgiveness as a means of leveraging control over the offending party, like meting out some sort of punishment.

Guess what?

Aside from the fact that such a strategy is not an option for the believer, it often backfires. The offending person might not even have a clue that he or she has hurt you. Not all offenses are intentional, right? So, while you're harboring bitterness toward that person, when you fail to release him or her through forgiveness, you end up punishing yourself in the end. As someone once said, "Bitterness is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die."

Author Lewis Smedes, whose book The Art of Forgiving The Art of Forgiving is one of the best on the subject, put it this way: "When you forgive a person who wronged you, is one of the best on the subject, put it this way: "When you forgive a person who wronged you,83 you set a prisoner free, and then you discover that the prisoner you set free is you." I love that perspective. In a way, when I forgave Mr. Watts, you set a prisoner free, and then you discover that the prisoner you set free is you." I love that perspective. In a way, when I forgave Mr. Watts, I I was the one who benefited in the long run. If, however, I had allowed the root of bitterness and unforgiveness to take hold in my life, I'd be the one in jail-not him. was the one who benefited in the long run. If, however, I had allowed the root of bitterness and unforgiveness to take hold in my life, I'd be the one in jail-not him.

Why? Think about what happens when we don't forgive. For me, rather than forgive and move on, I become preoccupied. I overa.n.a.lyze the offense and, in turn, find that my thoughts are dominated by how I was hurt. That, in turn, creates a huge distraction in my daily routine. I remember once being so engrossed with unforgiveness that I had forgotten to make dinner. As the dinner hour came and went unnoticed by me, my kids said, "Hey, Mom, are we still having dinner?" I was completely shut down because I hadn't taken the steps to forgive the person who had hurt me earlier that day.

The writer of the book of Hebrews says, "See to it that no one misses the grace of G.o.d and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many" (12:15, NIV NIV). Being quick to forgive, then, prevents bitterness from keeping my heart captive to the wrong that's been done to me; what's more, it breaks the bondage of bitterness from being pa.s.sed to the next generation.

I don't want my children to be harboring anger at Mr. Watts or Harris Williams because they've watched me be destroyed by their actions. To be sure, if I had given in to the trap of having a pity party for myself over the fact that Mr. Watts got out of jail early, my kids would have watched me serving his time in my own self-pity-induced prison. I'd much rather that they see their mother being free in Christ and learn, as I'm continuing to learn, about the power of forgiveness to set us free.

At times, when I was younger and feeling self-pity about my situation, Aunt Dot would help me put my life in perspective. She'd say, "There are a lot of people who have been through worse things than you have, Becky. What's more, they didn't necessarily have a supportive family or G.o.d to help them through it." I hadn't thought of that.

She reminded me, "There are children who have never heard their parents say, 'I love you.' Your parents loved you and Daniel so much and said so regularly. More importantly, G.o.d loves you, and you know He'll never leave you. He's right by your side until you're reunited with your parents in heaven." The thought that other kids had gone through worse things than we had awakened compa.s.sion in me and got my focus off myself and my pity party. It also opened the doorway to forgiveness.

My aunt Dot went a step further by giving me a practical way of knowing whether I've truly forgiven someone from my heart. She said that, if I were to see the offender walking down the street, I should be able to wish him or her well. Forgiveness is a choice, she said, not a feeling. Aunt Dot wasn't suggesting that I have to have a relationship with such people again or invite them into my life or be their friend.

Some people still have serious issues.

Others have toxic personalities.

For some with unresolved problems, the damaging things in their lives could spill over and hurt me. But that shouldn't prevent me from wishing them G.o.d's best . . . from a distance if necessary.

No Apology in Heaven The journey of forgiveness takes an interesting turn in the road with the fourth observation: If I have trouble forgiving, it might be because I'm actually angry at G.o.d, not primarily at the person who wronged me. Our inability to forgive others often has to do with our unwillingness to make peace with G.o.d over what has happened. Whether or not we've stopped long enough to see that this dynamic is at work, subconsciously it's possible we're mad at G.o.d for not preventing our pain in the first place.

You know, it's G.o.d's fault that such and such has happened.

For example, G.o.d could have stopped a spouse from committing adultery-or from being a lazy b.u.m who's unwilling to provide for the family. G.o.d didn't intervene, and now we're mad at Him because our marriage has fallen apart or because the bank has foreclosed on our home.

Perhaps we think G.o.d could have stopped a business partner from embezzling the profits or kept a prodigal from leaving home after all of our prayers on her behalf. He didn't. We're so filled with anger and disappointment that G.o.d didn't show up at the last minute and answer our prayers, there's no way we'd ever forgive the business partner or wayward child.

What's more, it's tempting to think that G.o.d owes us us an apology for the betrayal, suffering, insults, hard knocks, or wounds we experience here on earth. When we get to heaven, we're gonna have it out with Him; we'll march right up and say, "Why, G.o.d, didn't You heal my mate of cancer?" . . . "Why, G.o.d, did You allow my sweet daughter to marry that creep of a guy?" . . . "Why, G.o.d, did You blah blah blah?" an apology for the betrayal, suffering, insults, hard knocks, or wounds we experience here on earth. When we get to heaven, we're gonna have it out with Him; we'll march right up and say, "Why, G.o.d, didn't You heal my mate of cancer?" . . . "Why, G.o.d, did You allow my sweet daughter to marry that creep of a guy?" . . . "Why, G.o.d, did You blah blah blah?"

I've got news for you.

There isn't an apology coming.

In my case, the devil was in pew number seven, and G.o.d knew about him all along. He knew what kind of fellow Mr. Watts was, as well as the severe damage that his actions were having on my daddy's nervous system. In spite of this knowledge, G.o.d didn't prevent Mr. Watts from carrying out his five-year campaign of terror against us. Had G.o.d stopped Mr. Watts in his tracks, Daddy wouldn't have suffered with paranoia. Perhaps he'd still be alive.

If I'm honest, I must admit that my real issue could be with G.o.d, not necessarily with Mr. Watts. I might be tempted to withhold forgiveness because I'm actually mad at G.o.d. Thankfully, with the help and teaching of my parents, I learned to keep things in perspective. They helped me see that G.o.d is still G.o.d even when things don't make sense. G.o.d hasn't made a mistake yet, so He can be trusted even when my circ.u.mstances suggest otherwise.

He is the Potter; I am the clay.

G.o.d is still good even when life is hard.

As I mentioned in the last chapter, my need for G.o.d trumped my need to be mad at Him. I'll admit I lost track of the number of times I pounded my fists on the gates of heaven, demanding an explanation from G.o.d as to why He permitted what He had allowed. Somewhere in the midst of that ongoing wrestling match, just after my sixteenth birthday, I found the Scripture that says that G.o.d is a Father to the fatherless (see Psalm 68:5). I hung on to those words with everything I had.

I came to see that I had to make a choice: I could contend with G.o.d, exhausting myself every day in the vain pursuit of securing an apology from Him. Or setting aside that fruitless quest, I could immerse myself in the Scriptures where the Maker of my soul was quick to meet me and give me His peace.

What's more, G.o.d reminded me that He has the long view in mind. I only see through a gla.s.s dimly. As 1 Corinthians 13 puts it, "Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known" (v. 12, NIV NIV). To paraphrase evangelist and American reformer Hannah Whitall Smith, a great many things in G.o.d's divine providences do not look like goodness. But faith sits down before mysteries such as these and says, "The Lord is good;84 therefore, all that He does must be good no matter how it looks." therefore, all that He does must be good no matter how it looks."

Again, in my case, the long view that G.o.d had in mind was the use of our suffering to bring Mr. Watts into a place where he accepted Jesus into his heart. I'd love to believe that one day the same will be true for Harris Williams. Which brings me back to something I mentioned earlier-forgiveness isn't necessarily a once-for-all action on our part.

Even if we've made our peace with G.o.d and have set aside that crazy notion that one day He'll apologize to us in heaven for exercising His sovereign will on earth, forgiving someone might require repeated doses of grace.

Such was the case with Harris.

Say It Isn't So Things aren't always as they seem.

When Harris Williams was sentenced to life in prison, I thought that meant exactly that. He had taken my mother's life and robbed Daddy of his wife and livelihood. The court said Harris would have to serve those years behind bars for his crime. But in April 2005, out of curiosity, my husband, Kenny, looked up Harris's status on the Internet. Much to his amazement and to my shock, Harris had been released from prison in 1999 and given five measly years of parole.

Ironically, in 1999 we lived in North Carolina, working just two-and-a-half hours from where Harris was living. Did anyone contact me or my family to inform us that Harris was up for parole? No. Did anyone ask us if we wanted to be at the parole hearing? No. Did anyone tell us that he was released after serving twenty years and that he would return to the same town he had lived in before he was imprisoned? No! No!

The news tore open my old wounds.

Where was the justice?

If given a million years, I would never have thought that a man could take someone's life-and shoot with the intent to kill another person-and then, after a short stint in jail, be walking around as a free man. So many questions ran through my mind when Kenny told me this news. The feelings I had laid to rest regarding the loss of my mother reemerged.

I knew I had a decision to make.

I had to choose to forgive Harris all over again.

The first time I worked through the forgiveness of Harris, I was an innocent child; I had been following the teachings and the example of my parents. Now, however, I would have to forgive Harris on my own, as an adult. It would be harder for me this time. I kept dwelling on how unfair it was that Harris had his freedom back while I was still without my parents.

It bugged me that Harris had served less time than my mother had been gone. He got his life back, while mine would never be the same. I found myself wondering what he was doing with his freedom. Had prison reformed him? Would he return to his drinking and hardened behavior? Or would he make something of his second chance?

I wish I had a second chance with Momma.

I had to let go of my anguish over and over again. I called a friend and shared with her the endless mental gymnastics I was having upon hearing the news that Harris was out. She said, "Becky, you have two choices. You can let these negative thoughts continue running through your mind like a locomotive, robbing you of the G.o.d-given peace that you have, or you can stop these thoughts right now dead in their tracks by forgiving him again."

Did Harris deserve my forgiveness?

That wasn't for me to decide.

I'm not his judge. G.o.d is.

Besides, Jesus commanded me to forgive him. Did that strike me as being unfair? Of course it did. And yet, as I pressed myself into the Scriptures for answers, I was drawn to the story of the criminals who were crucified beside Jesus on the two adjacent crosses. It dawned on me that if I were to ask the families who had been wronged by those convicts if they thought the felons should receive the full penalty of death for their crimes, they'd say, "Absolutely."

But Luke, the only Gospel writer to give this version of the incident, describes a conversation between one of the criminals and Jesus. During their exchange, the criminal freely confesses that he deserves his death. He makes no excuse. He doesn't shift blame. He accepts his punishment. That's when an interesting thing happens.

This condemned man, after a.s.serting the fact that Jesus has done nothing wrong, says, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."

Jesus replies, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise" (Luke 23:42-43, NIV NIV).

As I reread that familiar pa.s.sage, I didn't understand how Jesus would forgive a criminal who had broken the law and hurt people and then allow him to receive the same eternal salvation as someone who had led a G.o.dly life. I still don't know the answer to that mystery, but I do know that G.o.d, in His wisdom, knows why He extends the gift of grace to any of us. That's His business. My part is trusting G.o.d and praying for His will to be done in my life.

After the initial shock of hearing that Harris had been released from prison, I spent some time listening to my daddy's testimony, which he had recorded on a ca.s.sette tape before his death. When he got to the part about Harris and the shooting, Daddy's tone changed; there was an unmistakable compa.s.sion ringing clear in his voice as he said, "I forgive the man who shot me and my wife. I know alcohol makes people do things that they would not normally do. My hope for him is that he would be saved."

His words touched my heart in a deep and profound way, both then and even now as I write these words. My daddy and hero displayed the forgiveness he had modeled so many times before. His words reminded me that I have to walk in forgiveness and that my prayer for Harris should be the same as that of my daddy's, namely, that Harris would be saved. That Harris, like the criminal on the cross, would know the saving power of Jesus; that nothing he has ever done would be unforgivable to His Creator.

That Jesus loves him and died for him.

Once I prayed that prayer for Harris, the burden and accusation lifted.

I felt free again.

The Heart of the Matter If I were to boil down what I've learned about forgiveness, I'd say it's ultimately a matter of the condition of my heart. Momma demonstrated that reality with her life. Her goal, her driving purpose every day, was to become more like Jesus, to conform her heart to His heart. He forgave, so she forgave. He loved without placing conditions on His love; she loved others with the same fervor.

He extended grace; she did the same.

Because Momma was teachable and tender toward the things of the Lord, her heart was highly receptive to the things that the Lord wanted to plant there: love, joy, grace, peace, kindness, and forgiveness, among other things. Momma was willing to do anything G.o.d asked her to do. And because she kept the garden of her heart free from the weeds of anger and bitterness, those weeds were powerless to choke out her love of people. In turn, she found it easier to forgive those who persecuted her . . . even if it cost Momma her life.

Perhaps the clearest enduring example that Momma's greatest desire was to align her heart with that of the Lord is represented in a poem she penned in 1966, twelve years before her death. You can almost read between the lines the words of Jesus in John 15:13 (NIV), which says, "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." She wrote, Has the meditation of my heart been acceptable to my Lord, or have the words of my mouth caused some soul to go astray?

Have I shed enough tears to wash my Savior's feet, or is my hair long enough to dry them with?

Have I pointed Him to the world with Judas's finger, and lost my love for Him because of gold?

Have I forsaken all to follow Him the last mile, or do I prefer the mob that scorned Him?

Could I have watched His blood trickle down the stones without a guilty conscience, or stood in silence from fear of man?