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FORGIVENESS: SETTING THE PRISONER FREE

Building Great Relationships, Part 6

June 10, 2007

Pastor Bob Sanders

This morning we come to the sixth in our series of messages on Building Great Relationships.  So far we’ve thought about things like laying down our lives for one another, about keeping promises, about bearing burdens, about praying for each other, and last week about developing real friendships.  Today I want to think with you about forgiveness – what it is and isn’t, and how it can free us from the prison of the past.

Our Scripture reading is from Ephesians 4, and as you listen please notice that Paul assumes there will be a certain amount of conflict even in our closest relationships.  He’s writing to Christians, remember, but he’s talking about things like lying, things like anger, things like stealing, things like bad mouthing other people.  Paul doesn’t sugarcoat things.  He knows that as Christians we’re still prone to sin, and whenever you put two or more sinful people together in real relationship, some degree of conflict is inevitable.  So he’s going to offer some practical advice on managing these hurtful behaviors, and then in the final verse hold up the key, the only real healing for those caught in serious conflict, and that’s the miracle of forgiveness.  Here’s how Paul puts it:

Ephesians 4:25-32

25So then, putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another. 26Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, 27and do not make room for the devil. 28Thieves must give up stealing; rather let them labor and work honestly with their own hands, so as to have something to share with the needy. 29Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear. 30And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption. 31Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, 32and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.

God invented forgiveness because he knew how terribly we can hurt each other, and how forgiveness is the only way to heal our wounded hearts.  We get hurt, and the hurt is real.  There’s the hurt of physical violence.  I have listened to terrible stories of rape and abuse that leave me wondering why God puts up with the human race any longer.  Or there’s the damage done by verbal assault.  Some of us have been wounded by vicious words, slashed someone who slandered our character, kicked in the stomach by criticism that went too far.  And then there’s the hurt not from what someone did, but from what they failed to do.  Some here have been neglected by a parent, abandoned by a spouse, ignored by a friend.  These are but a few of the myriad ways we get hurt. 

And when we’ve been hurt – really hurt – the last thing we want to do is forgive.  We want to see our offender punished.  We want justice.  We want that creep who hurt us to crawl at our feet and beg for mercy.  But forgiveness is not about justice.  It’s about healing – healing the hurts we didn’t deserve.  And it’s not about getting even.  It’s about getting free from that prison of never-ending pain where so many of us remain shackled. 

What Forgiveness Is Not

Before I say any more about what forgiveness is, let me mention a few things it isn’t.  For one, forgiving is not smoothing things over, pretending they didn’t happen, or making nice.  It’s not a quick apology tossed our way like a fifty-cent tip, and then we’re expected to go on like nothing happened.  That’s cheap grace.  And real forgiveness is anything but cheap. 

Here’s another.  Forgiving is not excusing or condoning the wrong that was done.  We excuse people when we understand they weren’t to blame for what happened.  We cut them some slack.  “You were having a bad day” or “Your parents neglected you” or “You were only doing your job.”  If you can say that and mean it, if you can find a way to excuse the person, then do it.  But save forgiveness for those things that are inexcusable.  Forgiveness says, “What you did was wrong and caused great pain.  I cannot condone what you did, but I’m trying to forgive you.” 

And lastly, forgiving is not reconciliation with the person who hurt you.  A wife can forgive the husband who abused her, but she doesn’t have to let him move back in and clobber her again.  Reconciliation requires repentance before a vulnerable, loving relationship is possible.  If I’ve stolen your pen, you might be able to forgive me.  But you shouldn’t let me get too close to you until I repent and give it back.  Forgiveness gets the process started, and we hope and pray it will lead to reconciliation before it’s over.  But even if reconciliation never happens (and in some cases it doesn’t), I can still forgive – if for no other reason than to get free of the pain in me.

Three Stages

OK, so what do we do when we forgive?  Throughout this series on relationships I’ve turned to the writings of Lew Smedes, late of Fuller Theological Seminary, and I’m going to do it again today.  Back in 1996 Smedes wrote The Art of Forgiving, and I highly recommend it. 1  It’s a readable, practical guide for those who need to forgive but don’t know how.

Smedes says while no two situations are alike, and no two people feel exactly the same after they’ve been deeply wronged, there are some fundamentals of forgiveness that are pretty much the same for everyone.  He says we all move through three stages of forgiving, and he identifies them this way:

First, we rediscover the humanity of the person who hurt us.

Second, we surrender our right to get even.

Third, we revise our feelings towards the person.

Let’s look a bit more closely at each of these.  The first is to rediscover the humanity of the person who hurt us.  When someone badly hurts us we see that person through the distorted lens of our pain.  We don’t see him as a real person, a human being with struggles and hurts of his own.  We see him only in terms of the wrong he did.  We say things like, “He’s no more than an animal” or “She’s nothing but a cheat.” 

But in the miracle of forgiveness, says Smedes, We begin to see our enemy through a cleaner lens, less smudged by hate.  We begin to see a real person, a botched self, no doubt, a hodgepodge of meanness and decency, lies and truth, good and evil. 2  We rediscover the humanity of the one who hurt us.  We don’t have to like him or trust him or take him back.  We certainly don’t condone what he did.  What we try to do is see him not as a one-dimensional villain, but as a real person – flawed and bruised like us, human like us.

The second stage is to surrender our right to get even.  After we’ve been wronged, wounded, cheated, betrayed, nothing seems more natural than to get even with the scab who hurt us.  We want her to feel at least as much pain as she made us feel.  We want her to suffer, and to know that she’s suffering because of what she did to us.  But as we move along the path of forgiving, says Smedes, We hold the right to vengeance in our two hands, take one last longing look at it, and let it spill to the ground like a handful of water.  With good riddance. 3  We surrender our right to get even.  Now be careful here.  Forgiving means giving up vengeance.  It does not mean giving up justice.  Pope John Paul forgave the man who shot him.  But that man still had to serve his time in prison.  A woman can forgive the person who swindled her out pension fund.  But she doesn’t have to give up the right to get the money back. 

We don’t give up justice when we forgive.  We give up vengeance.  And almost always we’re the better for it.  Surrendering our right to get even is like surrendering a very bad pain in the neck.  We don’t do it because we have to.  We do it because we’re tired of hurting and ready to be healed.

Once we’ve gotten a glimpse of the humanity of the one who hurt us and given up our right to get even, then comes the third step of forgiveness: we revise our feelings toward the person.  Slowly, oh so slowly, we start to feel differently about this person who hurt us.  What we felt before was hatred, pure and simple.  We wanted the weasel to hurt as much as we did.  But now, moving a bit along the road to forgiveness, we’re able to hear his name without cursing or crying.  Once in a while we’re able to pray for her without wishing she were writhing in the fires of hell.  When we hear he’s remarried and doing well, instead of fury we feel the faintest stirrings of something like charity.  We may not want to see him again, but we’re able to wish him well.  A little. 

Smedes again: The feeling of good will is likely to be weak and hesitant at the start, and we are almost bound to backslide into malice along the way.  But if we feel any stirring of benevolence inside us, any hint that it will be all right with us if some modest bit of good fortune comes our enemy’s way, we can be sure we are teamed with God in a modest miracle of healing. 4  Please understand: the goal of forgiving isn’t to help the person who hurt us.  The goal of forgiving is to help us – to keep yesterday’s pain from clobbering us again and again, today and tomorrow.  If I refuse to forgive, I’m inviting that person who hurt me back then to keep hurting me for the rest of my life.  Forgiving is the only way I know to heal the hurts we don’t deserve.

As God Forgives

God invented forgiving, we said, because it is the only way to heal our wounded hearts from those terrible hurts of the past.  And God’s forgiving, says Paul, is the model for our forgiving.  Verse 32 again: “Forgive one another as God in Christ has forgiven you.”

And how does God forgive?  I think God’s forgiveness follows the same three steps Smedes has outlined.  When God forgives us, the first thing he does is rediscover our humanity.  When I sin and turn my back on God, when I carry out my own selfish agenda and injure others, God doesn’t condone or excuse my behavior.  God calls it sin and declares me guilty.  But then God moves his eyes off the wrong I’ve done and looks underneath till he finds what my sin has hidden from view – the real person he made me and is remaking me to be.  He washes away the wrong I did so he can rediscover the person I am.

And then comes the second step.  God surrenders his right to get even.  Instead of sentencing me to death (as I richly deserve), God allows the sentence to be carried out on his own Son.  God sets aside his right to punish me for my sin, and in some mysterious way takes it on himself in Jesus Christ the crucified.

And then the third step.  God wishes me well.  No, it’s even better than that: God welcomes me home.  God throws his arms around me like the father of the prodigal son, and gives me a new beginning, a fresh start, a clean slate.  I’m a new creation, the Bible says – the old has passed away.  Nothing can separate me from his love.  Now and always, God is for me. 

That’s how God forgives.  And that’s the pattern for our own forgiving.  We rediscover the real person behind the hurt – gradually.  We surrender our right for revenge – bit by bit.  And we find the grace little by little to wish good things for the person who did bad things to us.

Ways We Make It Harder

We forgive others because God in Christ has forgiven us.  We try to model our forgiving on God’s.  But sometimes we make forgiving harder than it has to be.  Sometimes we try to do things only God can do.  Let me give you three quick examples of ways we shouldn’t try to be like God.

For starters, when God forgives he does it all at once and it’s over.  But for most of us, it takes a lot longer.  For most of us forgiving is not a one-shot deal; it’s a journey.  And the deeper the wound, the longer the longer that journey takes.  C. S. Lewis had a monster for a teacher when he was a boy, and he hated the academic sadist most of his life.  But a few months before his death he wrote to a friend: “Do you know, only a few weeks ago, I realized suddenly that I had at last forgiven the cruel schoolmaster who so darkened my childhood.  I had been trying to do it for years.” 5  If you try to forgive, don’t be in a hurry.  Take all the time you need and expect to have some relapses.  Most people forgive slowly. 

Another example: God forgives all by himself.  But most of us need help.  If you’re trying to forgive a serious injury, you probably need to talk about it with a pastor, a counselor, a trusted friend.  Most of us can’t get there by ourselves.  Get someone who’ll listen, someone who’s been there, someone who’ll pray for you.  Forgiving is not easy.  It’s hard work.   So get all the help you need.

One more: the Bible says when God forgives he forgets.  Jeremiah 31:34: “I will forgive their iniquity,” says the Lord, “and remember their sin no more.”  But for most of us forgetting is neither wise nor possible.  Trying to forget is a formula for denial, and possibly an invitation to a repeat performance.  In George Santayana’s oft-quoted words: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”  Forgiving doesn’t mean you have to develop amnesia or pretend it didn’t happen.  You can’t erase a bad past.  But you can get it to quit torturing you.  You can change the memory of the past into a hope for the future.  You can forgive, even if you cannot forget.

Just Remember This

I close with a few one-liners from the postscript of Smedes’ book (also found on the cover of your bulletin)
– a section entitled “Just Remember This”:

The most creative power given to the human spirit is the power to heal the wounds of a past it cannot change.

The first person to benefit from forgiving is the one who does it.

Waiting for someone to repent before we forgive is to surrender our future to the person who wronged us.

Forgivers are not doormats; to forgive a person is not a signal that we are willing to put up with what he does.

When we forgive we set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner we set free is us.

When we forgive we walk in stride with the forgiving God. 6

1. Lewis B. Smedes, The Art of Forgiving: When You Need to Forgive and Don’t Know How (Moorings, 1996).
2. Ibid, p.6.
3. Ibid, p.7.
4. Ibid, pp.10-11.
5. As cited by Smedes, “Forgiveness: The Power to Change the Past,” Christianity Today, Jan. 7, 1983, p.26.
6. Smedes, op.cit., pp.177f.