Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.
It sounded good when Jesus said it, but what happens when there is someone in our lives that sins against us not seven times, but seventy-seven times? When the offenses against us build up aren't we more and more likely to forget of just how great a debt the Father has forgiven us? We forget that we were like the debtor who owed a huge amount with no way of paying it back who was nevertheless forgiven because the master was moved with compassion for us.
At that, the servant fell down, did him homage, and said,
‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back in full.’
Moved with compassion the master of that servant
let him go and forgave him the loan.
We have been forgiven much. But then, out in the world, we encounter others who stand in need of our forgiveness. Compared to what we have been forgiven it is a small, even trivial amount. But we still feel compelled to add it up, to set our own arbitrary limits in spite of the limitless mercy we ourselves received.
When that servant had left, he found one of his fellow servants
who owed him a much smaller amount.
He seized him and started to choke him, demanding,
‘Pay back what you owe.’
Forgiveness isn't challenging as a theory. It sounds great in the abstract. But when we encounter others who really do owe us something we have a hard time resisting the urge to add it up. When others sin against us we sometimes forgive, but with the stipulation, 'this time', ready and more or less expecting that they are on a trajectory where they will soon exceed what mercy we are willing to offer.
Why do we have a hard time forgiving in the concrete situations of real life? It often stems from a felt need for self-protection. This is not to say that we shouldn't take measures to prevent ourselves from being hurt by others, or from seeing appropriate justice is done. But we go above and beyond this legitimate need when we let it impact how we relate to others, so that we stop willing their good, but begin to lose sight of their personhood in our desire for what we can get from them, which is dangerously precisely because we feel it is owed to us. If our desire for justice and restitution comes from a place of fear we become unable to act toward those legitimate goals, but instead only for what we selfishly desire. If, on the other hand, we realize how merciful is our own master, if we realize all that we have received from him, we can seek justice and yet have a loving and forgiving heart toward our enemies and debtors.
I forgave you your entire debt because you begged me to.
Should you not have had pity on your fellow servant,
as I had pity on you?’
The situations in which we are called to forgive may even feel like the world has cast us into the fiery furnace, just as was Azariah. The instinctive thing to do when we feel the flames is to run or to fight back, or plead, or do something else that is ordered firstly toward self-preservation. But like Azariah we need to begin from a place of recognizing God's mercy before we make any move.
But with contrite heart and humble spirit
let us be received;
As though it were burnt offerings of rams and bullocks,
or thousands of fat lambs,
So let our sacrifice be in your presence today
as we follow you unreservedly;
for those who trust in you cannot be put to shame.
And now we follow you with our whole heart,
we fear you and we pray to you.
When we trust in God's mercy he can guide as and protect us in ways that exceed all our best efforts at self-protection. He can show us how to live, not forgetting his promises, but also not trying to run off and seize them ourselves. When we are hurt by others it can feel like flames. But the flames only consume us when we lose our trust in God, lose his perspective for the bigger picture, and fail to forgive.
Your ways, O LORD, make known to me;
teach me your paths,
Guide me in your truth and teach me,
for you are God my savior.
No comments:
Post a Comment