So you start with a group of kids, and you stand them in a circle. And you toss a bean-bag around a few times, nothing complicated or competative, just get it moving. Then you pause, and you take a great big box labeled "GRUDGE (unforgiveness)" to it, and you hand it to one of the children. Bonus points if the box is bigger than he is. And you explain a situation wherein you (their fearless leader) have done something to the child (stolen a hamburger, in our case) and he's really mad at you about it. And you've apologized, and you're not losing sleep over it, but he's still holding that, well, grudge. Then, continue your game as if nothing was different. Except, when you throw the beanbag to the child with the grudge, the beanbag is going to bounce off solid cardboard and hit the ground with a thud. Proceed as if you don't understand, meet the same result the next time you toss the beanbag at the child. Hopefully, the child is standing still, giggling and a little embarrassed. Maybe they've understood too quickly and explained the point before you could. Either way.
Unforgiveness hurts the one who harbours it. Grudges damage the one holding them. And it keeps your hands full and makes you incapable of doing things that used to be easy for you. It interrupts the flow of everything and it gets in the way of other relationships. The hands that used to be so good and liting and loving and catching everything life threw at you become useless, unweildy, dull. And it's bigger than you, and you can't see over it or around it or through it and it fills your vision and it's you. It's you, not the person you aren't forgiving that's hurting and frustrated and incapacitated. Unforgiveness hurts the heart that lets it go to seed.
Father, forgive me my trespasses, especially when I trespass against You by refusing to forgive those who trespass against me.
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