Читать книгу The Grace-Filled Life - Maxie Dunnam - Страница 12

GENESIS 27:30-40; MATTHEW 18:21-35

In the musical My Fair Lady, Professor Henry Higgins, whose heart is being torn apart by Eliza Doolittle, tries to convince himself that he is a forgiving man, in spite of the fact that he finds it almost impossible to forgive Eliza. Like most of us, he can't stick to that understanding of himself as "a most forgiving man," or it doesn't come through with conviction. His temper gets the best of him and he adds an addendum:

But I will never take her back, if she were crawling on her knees! . . .

I will slam the door and let the hell cat freeze.

MOST FORGIVING OR MOST FORGIVEN

We know the tension, don't we? The tension between applauding forgiveness in general but refusing to offer forgiveness in specific. Jesus presents our experience in a parable, a drama really, in which we are participants. He told the story in response to Peter's questions, "How often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times" (Matt. 18:21-22).

But that wasn't enough for Jesus; he had to make it personal and plain. So he adds a parable. The drama unfolds rapidly, keeping us on the edge of our seats. Our feelings are stirred and change erratically as the drama unfolds. We feel sympathy for the man who owed such a burdensome debt. The king angers us at once because he is going to exact every ounce of life from the debtor. Then abruptly the king becomes a hero, not a villain. We are flabbergasted by his compassion and the extent of his mercy as he forgives the debtor. The forgiven debtor encounters a man who owes him just a pittance and has him thrown into jail, and anger boils over again. Our boiling anger subsides and we breathe a sigh of satisfaction when the king brings the unforgiving debtor back to judgment and delivers him to be tormented until his huge debt is paid.

There is a call here; a call to get on the stage and into the drama. This is the very stuff of life because forgiveness—forgiving and being forgiven—is at the very center of life.

The story of Jacob and Esau (Gen. 27–33) is one of the most poignant biblical witnesses to this. Esau, the elder brother, had all rights to the blessing of their father, Isaac. But Jacob stole that blessing. Jacob had to flee for his life from the natural wrath of Esau. For years Jacob was an alien, removed from his family and his homeland. Finally, he got the courage to run the risk and, with his entire household, returned to the Promised Land. It is one of most inspiring stories in the Old Testament. Forgiveness pierces through the pain and darkness of estrangement. When Esau saw Jacob coming, he "ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept" (Gen. 33:4). A forgiving brother restores life to Jacob and the family.

The theme runs throughout Scripture. The core lesson of the parable is a truth we are lax in reckoning with: God's forgiveness of us is determined by our forgiveness of others. Jesus even included that lesson in the prayer he taught us: "Forgive us . . . as we forgive others."

A TOUCHY TRUTH

This is a touchy truth, not easy to keep clear. Look closely at the parable. No sooner had the servant been forgiven his unpayable debt than he found someone indebted to him. He had been forgiven 10,000 denarii; this man owed him only 100 denarii, yet he had him thrown into jail. No wonder the king was angry and reacted so quickly, having the unforgiving man incarcerated as well. Jesus closed the parable with the words, "So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart" (Matt. 18:35).

Register this truth quickly. The Bible does not teach of a God who refuses or revokes pardon. God's love is neither conditional nor capricious. So how do we harmonize the truth of this parable with this truth about God's character? Only as we forgive others can God's forgiveness become real. God forgives, but our capacity to receive and retain that forgiveness as a redemptive power in our lives is dependent on our forgiving others. We can't be open to God's love if we continue to bitterly nurse our resentments against someone.

I recall a movie entitled Stars in My Crown. The story was especially powerful for one who grew up in the South and knew the integrity of the story, even if it wasn't truly biographical. An elderly black man owned a small, rather unproductive farm outside a Southern town. When some precious metals were discovered in the area, the land suddenly became valuable. Though many sought to buy it, the old man refused to sell. It was his land, his home, and he wanted to stay where he had spent his life. People did everything they could to force him out, but he refused. They burned his barn, shot through his house at night, and, in a final threat, told him he would be hanged by sundown the next day if he did not agree to sell.

The local Methodist minister heard about the trouble and went to visit, and an amazing thing happened. As promised, at sundown the next day, they came. Though they were robed in their white sheets and hoods, the old man knew who they were. The farmer came out on the porch, wearing his best clothes. He told them he was ready to die, that he had asked the minister to draw up his last will and testament. He asked the minister to read it to them. He willed the farm to the banker who had been most clamoring in his effort to get it. He gave his rifle to one, who as a little boy had first learned to hunt with that gun, who was taught by the old black man. He gave his fishing pole to another; on and on, giving everything he had to those who were threatening to kill him.

The impact was incredible. He killed them with love and forgiveness. They couldn't take it. One by one, in shame, the lynching mob disappeared. The minister's grandson had watched everything from a distance, and as everyone was leaving, he ran to his grandfather and asked, "What kind of will was that, Granddaddy?" The minister replied, "That, my son, was the will of God."

Doesn't that make you think about Jesus at the Cross? And thinking about the Cross makes us think of God's loving sacrifice. What does all that say to us, about what we are to do when we have been forgiven?

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

Who do you need to forgive? Whose forgiveness do you need?