Charred Cross

I wrote yesterday about some of my thoughts when I read Chapter 3 of the book Becoming Jesus' Prayer. The chapter is about forgiveness.  The authors tell the story of Farmer's Chapel UMC in Iowa. The over 100-year-old church building was destroyed by an arsonist. You can image the anger the church felt towards this person. Even so, the pastor wrote an open letter to the arsonist that was published in the local paper. The letter invites the person to church. Not as an empty, let's act like we forgive people invitation, but with an invitation that shares how impossible, and yet how imperative forgiveness is.  You can read part of the letter at this link (scroll down a little on the page). The blog was (is?) written by an Assistant to the Bishop in Iowa.

The image on my page today is of the cross in the rebuilt Farmer's Chapel.  It is constructed from charred pieces of wood left after the fire.  The authors of Becoming Jesus' Prayer wrote, "Every Sunday morning now, the congregation worships with a visual reminder of the arsonist's act, but more that that every Sunday morning they worship with eh assurance that life come out of death, that hope emerges from desolation."

Do we find forgiveness too difficult to attempt? Or do we know how difficult it is, but accept God's help to do what for us is impossible alone?

Note: Forgive the resolution of the image - it's a screen shot of a video.

Light a Candle in Our Hearts

 

I'm still reading Becoming Jesus' Prayer. Chapter 3 is about forgiveness.  The authors write, "Forgiveness begins with an awareness of our shared humanity, a recognition of the tremendous capacity that we have to both destroy and bless one another....This honest self-appraisal can also enable us to see our need for interior cleaning....An African schoolgirl described this need for cleaning when she prayed: 'O Though great Chief, light a candle in my heart, that I may see what is therein and sweep the rubbish from they dwelling place.'"

Yesterday, before I read this today, I was thinking about how much we build resentment within ourselves when we judge other people. Maybe they are meeting our expectations, or maybe they are living their lives (or a part of their lives) in a way we would do so. Or maybe we make assumptions about their inner thoughts when they speak to us.

Think about the time when you thought, "He hated what I just said, and now he is angry with me."  We make assumptions about people's emotions or motivations, and we grow angry with them. I wonder if we are projecting our own thought on them; I'm certain we don't know what is going on in their lives. It's somewhat self-centered of us to assume their reactions or what we perceive of their reactions to be about us.

It seems as if changing this part of us - stopping our assumptions and judgments - we rid us of the need to forgive others at times.  If we just lit a candle in our hearts for some self-reflection.

Forgiven

I preached this past Sunday, so I was in a church that is not my home church. When I arrived, the pastor was not there (I knew that he would not be there), and the lay people were organizing the service using the bulletin. The person who would be leading worship (and who found that out that morning) was working with me to determine who would do which parts of the worship service.  She asked me to do, in addition to the sermon, the Offertory Prayer, the Prayer of Confessions, and the Benediction (all fine).  She also asked if I played the piano because there pianist (along with much of the congregation) was on vacation.  Happy to read prayers - not a pianist.

So I was reading through the pre-printed prayers she wanted me to read, and when I got to the Prayer of Confession, I really didn't want to pray it.  The first half was fine - this is the second half:

Good Lod, extend your grace and mercy as we ask your forgiveness.  IN order to receive your forgiveness, we know that we need to forgive everyone who has offended us. Help us to hold nothing against anyone, for that may jeopardize our gift of forgiveness from you.  (Written by T Anne Daniel, The Africana Worship Book Year B)

I feel as if this is inspired by the Lord's Prayer, "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." To me it is a misreading and misunderstanding of the prayer. How can a God who offers forgiveness as a form of grace - freely given - predicate the gift on something that is impossible for us to do. We can't possibly, in our sin, forgive everyone who has offended us. God knows this - knows our salvation cannot be dependent on us alone - because we can't do it alone.

Forgiveness from God is grace, freely given, not held back until our own forgiveness of others is perfect.

I do believe that our grudges and hatred against others can be obstacles to our receiving grace - but the gift is there, freely given, for us to accept. It is God's will for us to forgive; it is God's will for us to be forgiven and forgiving, but we are forgiven - already.

 

Abundant Love

In Rachel Held Evans and Jeff Chu's book, Wholehearted Faith, in the Epilogue, are these words:

"The truth is, you can't earn God' love because you already have it.  You can't be any more loved than you are because God's love has already been freely and abundantly given."

In Sunday school the other day, we were discussing the curriculum.  The author said (and I am completely paraphrasing, because I'm doing this from memory), we can receive God's grace by asking for it.  I think the corollary of that is the common idea that we can be forgiven by God by asking for forgiveness.  What if our sin is that we can't ask for forgiveness? What if our sin is that we don't recognize our sin? What if we never overcome the perceived stumbling block of turning to God and asking to be loved?

The truth as I believe it is that we are loved before we ask, we are forgiven before we repent, and God's grace is freely given, without condition.

In our world, it's not very hard to believe that someone could love us but still hold a grudge against us, or could love us, and still withhold forgiveness because we haven't asked to be forgiven, or done the right repentant action to restore the relationship.

But I don't think God is like that.  I think God's love, and God's forgiveness, and God's grace are all wrapped up together in the nature of God. God loves us more abundantly than we can imagine - without limits, without condition, without boundary. God loves us, infinitely. And that means we are already forgiven, and that God's grace surrounds us without us asking for it.

So what is the value of repentance?

Because sometimes we can't accept the gift because we hold on so tightly to our sin. God has created a way for us to step into the light. Repentance convinces us to let go, and to find the gift, freely given.

It's not God's nature to withhold love. It is human nature to need a way to recognize it.

 

What Does Forgiveness Look Like?

In Sunday school a couple of weeks ago, an article about a Mennonite family was discussed.  You can read about it here..  

A Mennonite man has sexually abused his children.  When his wife did not welcome him back into their home following his probation, she was excommunicated from the church for failing to forgive him.   The article is much longer, and provides more details.  The discussion in Sunday school sparks some thoughts in me about forgiveness.

The Mennonites in this story demanded that she forgive and forget.  Once the person has confessed, and has been forgiven by the church, then the sin is to be forgotten - never spoken of again.  

I think it is reasonable that this man, who may be forgiven, should not have access to his children.  Forgetting the sin would put them in danger.  

What does forgiveness look like?  I have many discussions in Bible Study that explored the idea of forgiveness requiring that the sin be forgotten.  The Mennonites in this article, I think, would say that forgiveness is radical, and that it much include forgetting the sin.

I think that forgiveness looks different for every circumstance.  In some, maybe it does require forgetting the sin, and recreating the person being forgiven - so that we don't see the sin when we see the person.  In other circumstances, forgiveness is given, but accountability is required.  In other circumstances, it may mean that forgiveness is offered, but that the relationship cannot be restored. In others, a person who has hurt someone may be forgiven without the knowledge of the person who has sinned - the forgiveness is offered so that the person hurt can heal.  All of these, and others, can be within the will of God.

Forgiveness, like grace, is offered and created in many forms.  All of them, though, with the help of God.

Afraid of Grace

In Sunday school a few weeks ago, the question arose,  "Won’t we just sin if the slate is wiped clean?"  If grace is grace, and God forgives and removes sin from our lives through sanctifying grace, then doesn't that encourage us to sin again? If there are no consequences, then won't we sin?

It's a logical question.  It's a parenting question.  We realize as parents that if we remove consequences for wrong doing, or if we never set boundaries or implement discipline, then will a child ever learn right from wrong, and won't the child make the wrong choices again and again?  We know we have to be the parent and enforce discipline to teach our children.  In addition to that, we have an sense of fairness - we can't imagine that wrongdoing can be forgotten or forgiven.  It doesn't seem fair.  

And then there is this: if God forgives sins - without grudges or points lost - then we have to do the same.  We don't want to.

Paul said this in Romans 6:1-4:

What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase?  By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer?  Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.

Forgiveness isn't meant to be a "get out of jail free" card.  Forgiveness doesn't remove consequences.  What we do has consequences, and even as forgiven people, we have to work through them. 

We sometimes equate forgiveness as "washing away our sins," as if we threw a towel in the washing machine with bleach and if came out clean and white.  The purpose of forgiveness isn't cleanliness - it's change.  It is part of sanctification - grace that moves us closer to the image of God.  It doesn't reset us to where we were - it should change us.  As a person made new in Christ, our desire to sin is changed.  

Don't misunderstand what I am saying. I don't mean that once forgiven, we no longer are tempted to sin, and that we have a magic sin-resistance field around us.  What I do mean is that as we are experience sanctifying grace, we are changed by love. Changed so that we might say as Paul says  in Romans 7:19, " For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing."  I believe our desire to sin decreases because our love of God and gratitude towards God increase.  Forgiveness doesn't motivate us to sin more; forgiveness, because it is love and grace, changes us so that we do not want to sin more.

And, as we are changed by sanctifying grace, our willingness to forgive others, without grudge, increases. That doesn't mean we can forgive without the help of God, but our desire to do so will increase.

Doing Bad vs. Being Bad

This afternoon I was reading in Eugene Peterson's Psalms: Prayers of the Heart.  The Chapter centers around Psalm 51, which is attributed to David following his actions with Bathsheba.

Peterson writes this:

Our experience of sin does not consist in doing some bad things but in being bad. it is a fundamental condition of our existence, not a temporary lapse into error. Praying our sin isn't resolving not to sin anymore; it is discovering what God has resolved to do with us as sinners.

What are your thoughts?

1. We often thing that granting someone forgiveness hinges on their commitment to not hurt us again. If our prayers to God do not hinge on such a condition - and if what Peterson says is true, then this is the case - then why should we only grant forgiveness to people who resolve to not sin again? Is it possible to promise to not sin again?
2. Doesn't grace gain a bigger meaning if what Peterson says is true? God isn't granting us pardon for what we have done - God is working within us to change us.
3. And is this what sanctifying grace means? 

Prsayer of Confession

Oh God, our God,

This morning we come as a church

that has not heard your word.

That has failed to be obedient.

The people around us are hungry.

There are people who are lost.

There are people who are alone.

And we do nothing.

Oh God, our God,

You became human

Left God,

And you came to save us.

You came to rescue the oppressed.

And in our gratitude,

we do nothing.

Forgive us, we pray,

and free us for joyful obedience.

Free us from other idols

those things that distract us from following you.

Free us from the past

that clouds of view of the future.

Free us from our sin

So that we can with joy and passion

Offer God to others.

Free us

Forgive us

Change us

Amen.

Offering the Grace of Forgiveness

Yesterday, I wrote about the grace of gifts. I started with the question of whether God's forgiveness is dependent upon how we act - our repentance, our sorrow at the sin we have committed. I believe it is not - forgiveness is offered, no matter what we do.

So why is it, then, that we make our forgiveness of other people dependent upon their repentance? We stubbornly wait for an apology before offering forgiveness. That's  not grace.

Sometimes, we preface our forgiveness with words like, "you couldn't help it - I forgive you." If the person couldn't help it, they don't need forgiveness, do they?

Sometimes, we say we forgive, and yet we do not - we keep coming back to the sin, holding it forth like it was a rare jewel that we can't let go of, lest we become powerless.

Sometimes, we never offer forgiveness for fear of being hurt again.

The grace of forgiveness is not dependent upon the sorrow the guilty party, or their innocence, or our fear. Forgiveness is grace. Thank God God will help us to offer it - even if the offering of it is very private, and not even shared with the oblivious person whom we are forgiving.

Grace and Forgiveness

Despair has been called the unforgivable sin - not presumably because God refuses to forgive it but because it despairs of the possibility of being forgiven.  (Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking)

It is impossible to think of forgiveness without considering it in the light of grace. Grace is the unmerited and unlimited love of God for us. Because of grace, we have been forgiven - not just of sins that we can excuse, but of all sins. And not just you and me, but everyone.

Do you believe that? Or do you believe that there are sins that God won't forgive? Or sins that we have to work very hard to convince God to forgive? Or people who God will not forgive? 

And if grace abounds, and all sins are forgiven, and God offers grace, even to you and me, then what barriers do we place in front of God that block our reception of God's grace?

And what barriers do we place in front of other people to prevent them from experiencing God's grace and forgiveness?

And perhaps the hardest question of all, if we are called to act as children made in the image of God, following the model of Christ, then who have we denied the grace of forgiveness?

Choosing to Love

I few weeks ago, I wrote about our experience with the loss of our dog.  I wrote about being heartbroken, angry and grateful.  At about the same time, I went to a Diversity Summit. The worship leaders sang a song with these words:

In the midst of pain, I choose love

In the midst of pain, I choose love

In the midst of pain, 

Sorry falling down like rain

I await the sun again.

I choose love.

It reminded me that love while love is an emotion, it's more than that. Love is an action. Because it is an action - a verb - we can choose to do it, or not. We can choose to love, as we are called to do, or we can choose not to love.

I don't mean to imply that forgiveness is as easy as saying we'll do it. I don't believe that feeling love (or not) toward someone is as simple as making the decision. What I mean is that we choose how to act. We choose to act with kindness or not. Acting with love, even in pain, is a choice. It's not always an easy choice, but it is a choice.

Reconciliation

Have you ever struggled with the idea of corporate reconciliation? Have you ever met someone who has? 

For example, last year at Annual Conference we, as a group, worked through understanding and reconciling with the treatment of Native Americans in our past. Have you ever met someone who has said or thought, "I haven't mistreated Native Americans? Why do I have to apologize and reconcile?"

I think there are several reasons for the confession of corporate and community sin, but as I was reading Rising Strong, I found another one.

Yesterday, I wrote about nostalgia. In the same chapter, Brown explores the idea of how our memories are often "rose-colored." We see things as we think they were. A person who was a child in the 50's might not remember the way African Americans were treated at the time in our country. Exposing that to them is painful to them. It threatens the wonderful memories they have of how life was then.

And yet, if we do not dig to discover the truth in our memories, or the truth of what we didn't know then, we are much less likely to work toward fixing the issues in the present. Stephanie Coontz explains in Brown's book that those who have never cross examined their fond memories of the 50's (memories that exclude the civil rights abuses at the time), "were the ones most hostile to the civil rights and women's movements, which they saw as destroying their harmonious world they remembered."  

Those who struggled through their memories became more adaptable to change. Think of that. Those who examined and reconciled with the abuses of the past were more able to adapt to the future and correct or prevent the same kinds of issues from happening again.

What implications does that have for life in the church? For life in society? For how we approach confession and forgiveness?

Death in Forgiveness

Forgiveness is difficult for all of us, I think. And yet, God calls us to forgive others. Remember in a previous post, when I talked about the darkness of the wilderness that happens before the promised land? That happens with forgiveness, I think. There is the difficulty that is like a wilderness before we reach forgiveness.

Why is that?

Brown (in Rising Strong) says, "In order for forgiveness to happen, something has to die. If you make a choice to forgive, you have to face into the pain. You simply have to hurt.... Forgiveness is so difficult because it involves death and grief."

That was an ah-ha moment for me as I read the chapter.

Grief is very difficult for us. It is a time of hurt and pain - a dark wilderness. To forgive someone, we have to choose to enter that wilderness. We have to experience the death of expectations, or of resentment, or of self-righteousness. We have to give up being "right." Any and all of that has to die in order for us to forgive.

Brown says, "Given the dark fears we feel when we experience loss, nothing is more generous and loving than the willingness to embrace grief in order to forgive. To be forgiven is to be loved."

The Wilderness Path to Wholeness

Archbishop Tutu (who knew something about forgiveness) wrote:

To forgive is not just to be altruistic. It is the best form of self-interest. It is also a process that does not exclude hatred and anger. ... However, when I talk of forgiveness, I mean the belief that you can come out of the other side a better person. A better person than the one being consumed by anger and hatred. Remaining in that state locks you in a state of victim hood, making you almost dependent on the perpetrator."

Forgiveness isn't forgetting, it doesn't ignore accountability, but it does open up our lives to rebirth.

How difficult it is to choose grief in order to let go of our hurt. And sometimes, we just can't do it. We can't do it by ourselves - God calls us to forgive, but God doesn't leave it to us alone. God works in our lives to enable us to forgive. Does God do this because the other person needs forgiveness? Maybe. But I think God does this because God knows we need - for our own healing and wholeness - to forgive. God walks through the wilderness with us - experiences our pain with us - to lead us to the promised land on the other side.

What kind of love is this that God would love us so much that he would be willing to walk with us into pain in order that we might be whole?

First Day of School

I was driving to work a few weeks ago, and I noticed a child standing on the side of the road. He was probably 9 or 10, maybe younger. His mother (I assume she was his mother) was standing with him. He was wearing clothes that looked new, and he had a backpack that looked like it still smelled like Target on his back. I think they were waiting for the bus to come down the road.

It was the first day of school for the year.

There are places in our state that have year-round school, and it has been discussed as an option on our county. I'm not here to talk about whether it is a good idea or not. I'm sure there are many pros and cons. That morning, though, was a demonstration of one of the pros. Here was this young man, and he was getting a fresh start. Everything that day would be new. New classroom, new teacher, new books, new schedule. Whatever he had done the previous year - whatever grades he had earned - whatever he had done that had resulted in disciplinary action, if anything, was erased. He was starting fresh.

There is grace in that, don't you think? Do we ever allow someone to have a fresh start? Do we forgive enough to prevent the past from influencing how we treat someone? Don't get me wrong - I think actions should have consequences. I'm not talking about allowing the one who abuses a spouse to continue to do so, or the person who embezzled to continue to work in the same company. But there are times when we could allow forgiveness to recreate the relationship we share with someone.

Do we ever give anyone a fresh start, like it's the first day of school?

Forgiveness and the Nature of God

Last Sunday I was praying the Lord's Prayer as part of our church's worship service. I try to not say it without thinking about it, so I was saying the words and running them through my mind, listening. I got to the "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."

There are those I know who believe this means that God forgives us only as we forgive others. If we are not forgiving, then we will not be forgiven. That has always struck me as a wrong interpretation, but as I prayed it that day, I figured out why.

Being forgiven only as I am willing to forgive is the opposite of grace. Grace says that I am already forgiven. I am forgiven, as are you. God didn't wait to see how forgiving I can be. How forgiving I would be. God forgave me - forgives me - will forgive me - even for my unwillingness to forgive.

It isn't how God wants me to live - God doesn't want me to be unforgiving or unforgiven, but the one part of that equation that God has already dealt with is my state of forgiveness. I am forgiven.

To think that God would allow God's forgiveness to be measured by my actions rather than God's will is contrary to God's nature. God is love. God is grace. God is forgiving, and God's forgiveness will not be dribbled out in a stingy manner based only on my actions.

Child-like Faith: Forgive

When Peter asked Jesus how many times he should forgive someone, he thought he was being generous by offering to forgive seven times. I imagine he was surprised when Jesus responded  seventy times seven. In the story of the person who is forgiven an almost immeasurable amount, we find a person who turns around and can't forgive a comparatively small amount.

Why is it that we, a people who have been forgiven much, are reluctant to forgive? 

Is it that we savor the feeling of being "right?" Do we enjoy the superiority of being in the position of being able to forgive someone? Do we think forgiveness makes us appear weak? Needy? Are we afraid that if we forgive, we will be condoning the wrong? Or are we afraid that if we forgive, we will be vulnerable to the hurt of being wronged again? Can we not bring ourselves to the brink of letting go of how terrible the wrong done to us was?

I think it is all of these reasons - and more.

We are called to a child-like faith. What does a child do? Is a child innocent enough to forgive and move on? To even, at times, to trust again?

Forgive us our debts

"Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors"

In Ortberg's book, this chapter is based on the Matthew parable of the servant who owes a great deal of money to the king, who is forgiven, and who then will not forgive the man who owes him a pittance compared to what has been forgiven of him.

One talent (according to Bible Gateway) is equal to 15 years worth of a laborer's salary; therefore, 10,000 talents equals 150,000 years of work. A better way to look at it is "more money than the an average person could even dream of having." It could be equal to the king's country's entire net worth. A question arose last night: who in his right mind would LEND this much money to a servant?

It's a question I had never thought of before. What does it tell us about God? It brought to my mind the father in the Prodigal Son story. What kind of father would give his son 1/3 of his property only because he demanded it? And when he probably fully expected the son to waste it? What does that tell us about the nature of God?

God is generous beyond our imagining. 

And then - and THEN - the king forgives the debt. What kind of king forgives a debt equal to the value of his whole country? And then, the father welcomes the son back, without even a word of apology from him. What does this tell us about God? 

God offers grace beyond our imagining.

That, I think, it the story. Our generous God offers us tremendous and unimaginable grace. How do we respond? Do we do our best to offer forgiveness to someone else? Or do we say, "I can never forgive him."?

How do we respond to a God like ours?

Already Forgiven

One of my roles at my church is to coordinate a devotional ministry.  Member of the church write devotionals.  Each week we email them out to over 200 people.  In Advent, the devotionals are written for daily distribution.  I also compile them into a printed devotional book.

As I was assembling the booklet today and proofreading the texts, I was struck by something.  One of the writers, who was writing a devotional for the last week of Advent, wrote a prayer that begins, "We ask once again for you to have patience with us.  We have been ignoring your messages this season.  We've tried, but we have allowed the busyness and worldly distractions to draw us away form the light."  (Hat-tip to Chyrl Budd).  She wrote this sometime in November as a prayer of confession for close to Christmas.  She knows that we will try, and that we will not fulling reach our potential in Advent, and that we will need forgiveness.

God knew we would need forgiveness, too.  Two thousand years before our birth, our sins were forgiven.  How wonderful is that?

Faith

In Bible Study this past Sunday we looked at the story of the anointing of Jesus as told in Luke 7:36-50.  In this passage, Jesus has been invited to dinner by Simon, a Pharisee.  While he is there, a woman comes in and anoints his feet with costly ointment.  The Pharisee remarks on this, and Jesus talks about forgiveness.  Who will love the one who forgives more -- the one who is forgiven little or the one who has forgiven much?

We spent a lot of time in class talking about forgiveness and the difficulties surrounding it --  good use of our time, don't get me wrong.

I couldn't help noticing, though, the vast difference between the faith of these two people.  Simon, the Pharisee, invites Jesus to dinner.  It feels like he did it out of curiosity -- to see what Jesus had to say.  He didn't treat him as a real guest; he didn't give him the hospitality that he would have offered other guests in his home.  It seems to me that if he had believed in Jesus, who would have been more welcoming.  It seems to me that he had little faith.

Compare that to the woman.  She has so much faith that she is compelled to come into Simon's home, possibly without an invitation?  She not only offers what Simon did not -- but she also does it out of faith.  In fact, at the end, Jesus says, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."

The two people who separated by their sin, but also by the differences in their faith.