Text: Matthew 6:5-15
January 15, 2012
I broke Russ Laub’s nose on Monday, and he didn’t even deserve it – not that he would ever deserve a broken nose. It was an accident, of course. He and three others of us often play basketball on Monday afternoons. I was going to the basket, and when I jumped, my head hit Russ’s nose. It wasn’t my head that broke.
Anyone who plays sports know that these things happen – you bump into each other, you run into elbows, you tear your Achilles, and so on. Those of us who play basketball above the rim, like Russ and I do, are especially vulnerable. We know that it goes with the territory of advanced athleticism.
But even though Russ knows and I know and others know that injuries are unavoidable when you play sports, I felt terrible. Russ is my friend, and it was me who hurt him, no one else. When we left the gym, Russ had blood all over his shirt and he said he was going to the ER to get it checked out. Me? I went home, ate dinner, and settled in for the evening.
I had planned to call Russ later, but before I got the chance, he called me. He told me that his nose wasn’t as bad as he thought. He told me that he didn’t need to go to the hospital. But, most of all, he was calling to tell me not to worry about it, that it was an accident, and that I shouldn’t think more about it. Russ was the one who had been injured, but he called me because he was concerned about me – he wanted me to know that he held nothing against me. He wanted me to feel free. What an act of grace on Russ’s part.
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I thought of Russ’s phone call as I contemplated God’s forgiveness this week. That’s because God’s forgiveness and our forgiveness are linked constantly in the Bible. When we forgive other people, we are reflecting God’s own image in us. In Jesus, it is God who forgives us of our sins, and we participate in God’s forgiveness as we offer forgiveness to others. In extending forgiveness to others, God’s children imitate God’s own behavior. When we withhold forgiveness, seeking to punish and destroy . . . well, it’s not our Creator who we imitate.
Maybe God’s forgiveness and our forgiveness are linked closer than we’d prefer.
We know the Lord’s Prayer so well, the words are so familiar, that it’s easy for us to forget what we are praying. Let me simply recite this prayer to you, as we pray it: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us. Lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.
We stop at the Amen. But Jesus didn’t. He didn’t even give his disciples an “Amen.” As soon as he finished teaching his disciples this model prayer, he went on to say those words that we avoid like a blow to the nose: “For if you forgive others when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” (Matthew 6:14-15)
When people asked the Amish why they offered forgiveness following the terrible tragedy at Nickel Mines, they consistently referred to the Lord’s Prayer. “Forgiveness,” said one Amish bishop, “is the only idea Jesus underlined in the Lord’s prayer.” When he said that, the bishop was referring to verses 14 and 15 – the highlighter of Jesus.[i]
What do we make of this? Was Jesus exaggerating for effect? Is God’s forgiveness for my sins really linked to my forgiveness of others? Did Jesus clearly mean what he clearly said? Maybe we should consult some other verses just to be sure.
Mark 11:25: “When praying, If you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your father in heaven may forgive you your sins.”
Luke 6:37: “Forgive and you will be forgiven.”
Ephesians 4:32: “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.”
Colossians 3:13: “Forgive each other. Just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.”
In Matthew, chapter 18, Peter went up to Jesus and asked him to please clarify his teaching on forgiveness. He asked Jesus, “Now, Lord, how many times should I forgive my brother? As many as seven times?” That’s more reasonable right?
“Jesus said to him, not seven times, but seventy times seven.” (Matthew 18:21-22) And no, Jesus did not mean 490. He meant that our forgiveness, like God’s forgiveness, is meant to be never-ending.
And, just to clear up any confusion, Jesus went on to tell Peter the story of the king who called in a loan of one of his principal debtors. The man came in and pleaded with the king for patience. The king had pity on him and forgave him his debt. But then, as soon as he left the king’s presence, that same man went out and came across another man who owed him money. He grabbed him by the throat and demanded his money. When the man’s debtor pleaded for patience, the man refused and threw him in prison until his debt was repaid.
Upon hearing this, the king seized the man whose debt he had forgiven and turned him over to the jailers for torture until he could pay back all he owed.
Jesus concludes this story by saying this: “This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother from your heart.” (Matthew 18:23-35)
You know, I’ve learned long ago that sometimes questions for clarification are best left unasked. Maybe Peter should have just stayed silent. As John Howard Yoder put it, “”Jesus, who was ready without hesitation to pardon prostitutes and disreputable people, was nonetheless extremely strict upon one point: only he who practices grace can receive grace.” There is no grace for those who are not gracious. “Forgiveness,” said that Amish bishop, “is the only idea Jesus underlined in the Lord’s prayer.”
So where does that leave us? Where does that leave you? What happens when you’ve been hurt, deeply, and not by accident? Sons and daughters struggle into adulthood to forgive cruel treatment by their parents. Fathers and mothers can’t understand children who exploit their love for financial and personal gain. Husbands and wives live their lives with unhealed wounds caused by neglect, infidelity, and abuse. Strangers break into our lives and take away our sense of security, trust, and joy. An unfortunate accident in a basketball game is one thing, but what about those wounds that cut deeper, all the way to the heart? Can we do it? Do we have the power and the will to forgive?
No, we can’t; and no, we don’t.
There is a lot of research promoting the health and psychological benefits of forgiveness. But that’s not how the Bible talks about it. The Bible does not talk about forgiveness as a self-help tactic to put beside exercise, eating fewer carbohydrates, and getting more sleep. The Bible does not talk about forgiveness as primarily something we do to improve our health or to ensure our salvation. Rather, when we pray for “God to forgive our sins, as we forgive the sins of others,” we are praying to a God who is a loving and forgiving parent who empowers us to be forgiving, too. We are praying to be who God’s created us to be – reflecting the image of our Creator in our very being.
Jesus links God’s forgiveness with our forgiveness, yet it is God’s forgiveness from which we grow. And it is embedded within the way God created us that we must give in order to receive. (“Those who save their lives will lose it, those who give their lives for my sake will find it”). Just as you cannot receive love if bitterness and resentment form a shell around you, so it is with forgiveness. Clenched fists cannot hold anything anyone has to offer, but, as Saint Augustine says, “God gives where he finds empty hands.”
We are enabled to forgive others when we live into and accept God’s forgiveness of us. And so forgiveness is what God does. Yet, to our surprise, through the Holy Spirit, God empowers ordinary people to do it too.
What is forgiveness? It is not that we cease to hurt. It is not that we will forget our pain. It is not pretending that the offense doesn’t matter, that everything will return as it was. Forgiveness is, as Richard Foster puts it, a miracle of God’s grace where sin no longer separates. (Prayer: Finding the Heart’s True Home.)
In one sense, forgiveness is the refusal to take revenge on another person for offending us or hurting us in whatever way. More broadly and more deeply, forgiveness occurs when we are able to see the people who have hurt us as something more – someone more – than just the ones who have hurt us. When we pray to God to forgive us as we forgive others, we are praying to God to see us as he created us, in his image, so that we can see others in the same way.
And so those of you who struggle with issues of forgiveness, and I know that many of you do, you need to know you can’t will forgiveness to occur. You can’t simply decide to do it out of your own power. God wills it, and God, through his Spirit, empowers it. That is why we make forgiveness a matter of prayer. While you can’t do in on your own, you can choose to participate with God’s forgiveness.
And sometimes, to our surprise, we see God where we least expect it.
A few years ago, Sheri Hartzler wrote an article about an experience she had as the director of the Patchwork Pantry, a food pantry housed at Community Mennonite Church in Harrisonburg, Virginia.
Here is what she wrote:
“One night in late August, a middle-aged woman I’ll call Kim came to the pantry. It was a hot, busy night, with the line of those waiting for food stretching far down the hallway. I knew it would be a long night.
During the summer, many friends of the Pantry donate large quantities of garden produce, and this night two tables groaned with tomatoes, peppers, potatoes and even bouquets of flowers. Clients were asked to wait until after their interview before getting produce.
We opened up, and within 10 minutes Kim came storming across the room, demanding an explanation for the delay in getting to the interview table. She was certain all the “good stuff” was being taken while she waited.
I explained that she would be next, that we had a large supply of produce and there would certainly be enough for her to have her choice of vegetables when she got to the table. I even told her to get her produce immediately instead of waiting for her interview if she was concerned.
But nothing I said made any difference. She was angry. She sought out others . . . and gave them the same complaint. Finally, after eventually getting her interview and her vegetables, she complained one last time, that she only had rotten vegetables to choose from.
I was ready to tell her she didn’t have to get food at the pantry anymore if it wasn’t satisfactory. Why couldn’t she be grateful for the free food? Here we were working hard to make it available and all she could do was complain. I told all my friends and family about the complaining client.
A month passed. Kim came back to the pantry, again arriving early. She came directly to the kitchen where we worked and with tears in her eyes asked for our forgiveness. “I worried about this all month,” she said. “I was wrong to be so upset last time I was here. I should not have complained. I was terrible.”
I was dumbfounded. I told her I assumed she was having a bad day that day, and she said, “It wasn’t just a bad day. It was a bad month. But I had no right to treat you that way.”
I assured Kim of forgiveness and wondered if I would have had the courage to do what she did.
I had to think of Ephesians 4:32 (NIV), which says, “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” Being the one to do the forgiving is easier than asking for forgiveness, at least for me.
Often I have said I continue to do this work at the pantry because it reminds me to be ever grateful for the things in my life I too often take for granted: the ability to hold a job that pays enough money for groceries and much more and that provides health insurance so that unexpected medical bills don’t cause financial disaster. While I gain much from this reminder, I know that most Wednesday evenings I think of myself as the giver. Kim reminded me that sometimes we learn more from those we serve than we would ever expect.
I only see Kim once a month for a few minutes. She didn’t need to ask my forgiveness in order to continue to get food. She asked because she knew she had done wrong and wanted to wipe the slate clean. I will greet Kim the next time she comes to the pantry in a new way—as a person who has asked for and received my forgiveness. I wonder what else she has to teach me?[ii]
Is there any doubt that this request for and extension of forgiveness freed Sheri and Kim both? It freed Kim of her guilt and shame, and it freed Sheri to see the people she served as more fully human. There is no future without forgiveness.
This article reminds me that our work with the WARM shelter is not merely an opportunity for us to share what we have with others. It is an opportunity for us to see God’s mercy and grace in places we might not expect it . . . and, perhaps, we will realize that those unexpected places are within us.
To be human is to be in conflict. We bump into each other. We break a friend’s nose. We say words that are not received as we intended. We lash out at people in ways that reflect the anger that we are carrying more than the wrongdoing of anyone else. [iii]
To be human is to be in conflict. To be human, with the power of the Spirit, is to reflect God’s image in us, participating with God is the journey of forgiveness, both giving and receiving it through Jesus, for this is where new life and new relationships grow into a free and joyful future.
[i] Donald R. Kraybill, “Imitating God: Nickel Mines, Forgiveness, and Yoder.” Brethren Life and Thought (Fall 2009), 8.
[iii] Kraybill, 12.
