Bring on the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant of Matthew 18: 21-35.
In this parable, we learn that a king demands repayment of a very large loan given his servant. The servant cannot repay, and the king orders the servant and his family sold to repay the debt. The servant begs for time to pay. The king's heart softens; he forgives the debt.
The forgiven servant goes on his way and meets a fellow servant who owes him a debt. He physically chokes the man, demanding immediate and full payment. The other man begs for mercy, but the forgiven man has him thrown in prison until he comes up with the cash.
Learning of this from eye-witnesses, the king has the formerly forgiven man tortured until he pays his debt in full.
In verse 35, Christ states,
"This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart."
Whammo. Did you feel that?
The parable stems from a question the apostle, Peter, asked. How many times should I forgive my brother who sins against me? Christ cited the well-known "seventy times seven times" -- which seems shockingly many to most people. Four hundred ninety times to forgive one person for doing the same thing again and again? Four hundred ninety times to forgive one person for four hundred ninety separate offenses? The message does not focus on the calculations, but on the forgiving. Offer it. Mean it. Make the effort and feel the difference. Do it as many times as you must, and don't stop offering mercy to another person. God doesn't stop offering it to you ... get the picture?
And what do we find as the alternative if we don't forgive?
As humans, we don't feel an automatic desire to forgive. The minute we perceive wrong-doing toward ourselves we begin to think vindictively. How can I "get my enemy back" for this? Our wheels begin to turn in a negative direction, we grease them by remembering the awful deeds done, and many of us give the whole works a tune-up regularly, sharing the terrible, horrible, unforgivable event with those who will offer us what we truly desire: sympathy.
As we rage inside, cry outside, feel degraded and spiteful, and work very, very hard on feeling like a victim, we create our very own torture chamber.
No one else can see or feel it the way we do.
We may lose or gain weight, begin having health problems, feel anxious or depressed.
In actuality, refusing to offer forgiveness can bring the same result as not asking forgiveness for our own sins. The results devastate the one who holds the boxful of hurt, no matter if he gave or received. We lose the listening ear of God, and he cannot look upon us in our sin.
Our humanness shuts the door on forgiveness because it feels like giving in or giving up. At the upper limits, it feels like paying high respect to someone who does not deserve it. Why would I give such a gift to someone who has not earned it? I prefer that someone earn my forgiveness when I have suffered so greatly.
I want to exact as much pain and suffering from the perpetrator as he inflicted on me. I want to witness his suffering, not just hear about it. I want to measure the dose and force-feed it. I want an eye for an eye. I want restitution, not just once, but over and over again.
If left to my own devices, I will never succeed in righting a wrong or in feeling freed from the bonds of what I suffered at the hands of someone else if I insist on rehashing it, reliving it and repeating it to anyone who will listen.
What of listening? There are three ways to listen, as I experience it. We listen with our ears, through reading the Bible and "hearing" God's messages for us, and through the mouthpiece of God found in others who cross our paths and say things that give us that Spirit nudge. When we listen we will not hear God ever say something like, "Please wallow in self-pity for now." We will not hear him say, "I will wipe away all the pain from this and you can go on as if nothing ever happened." We will hear him say, "Forgive. Forgive as I have forgiven you."
The truth: forgiveness frees us. Those bonds of memory do not affect the person who inflicted the pain. The rehearsing doesn't make that person suffer. The reliving doesn't remind him of his wrong and cause him to ask forgiveness. None of these things happen for one reason: unforgiveness affects only me. And, as I read the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant, it will affect my relationship with God.
God forgives me whenever I ask, no matter what my sin looks like. No matter how harshly I have judged, how badly I have hurt, how thoroughly I have wronged someone, He forgives me ... just for the asking from a contrite heart. My heart. No one may ask forgiveness for me.
This same God paved the way for me to have this privilege to come to him and ask forgiveness by sacrificing his Son to an unearned death. Offering him up to torture, to ridicule and to a blameless conviction ... and through a horrible, painful death on a cross for all to see, he gave to us -- and so much of the time we don't get it. We have this free gift, and we squander it, wanting it only for ourselves. Little do we realize, we miss a very important command: to forgive others as God forgives us.
And if I can't understand that and act according to my selfish desires because I "deserve better", do I really deserve the forgiveness I ask of God?
Similar articles:
Forgiveness: Doing the Impossible
How to Pray: Christ's Example
Forgive without Punishing
No comments:
Post a Comment