Notes of Faith May 22, 2023
Drinking Poison
Virtue: Forgiveness
As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison.
~ Nelson Mandela
I’ll never forget where I was when I opened my laptop and read one of the worst emails I’d ever received. My wife was out of town with our little children, attending to a friend who had just lost her husband to cancer. I was in my study in the small church I pastored in Illinois, and it seemed the world was closing in on me. The church that had trained me, ordained me, and sent me out was not only withdrawing their association but publicly, to folks I’d grown up with, shaming me. This was not because I’d been caught in some moral failure or because I’d abandoned Christian teachings. They were cutting me off because I had the audacity to consider a different ministry model from the model they preferred. The differences were over things so miniscule and petty that if I put them here, you’d scratch your head in bewilderment and wonder.
I was hurt and angry and alone. I felt betrayed by the people who had coached me, raised me, and once supported me. I was a young pastor with few networks of support and friendship. I wondered whether this was the end of my ministry. Had the call I felt in junior high, walking down that dusty aisle at camp, come to an end here, like this?
In that moment the song “Come to Jesus” (untitled hymn) began to play from among the thousands of shuffled songs on my iPod. (Yes, I’m that old.) I am not much of a crier, but I broke down and wept. I called a longtime friend, an older ministry mentor who knew my situation.
“Rich,” I said, “maybe I should quit. Maybe they are right. I just don’t know if I can go on.”
Rich told me two things that are etched on my soul. First, he said, “Dan, if you quit, I will personally drive from Michigan to Chicago and kick your butt. You are not quitting.”
Then his voice got serious and he said, “Dan, you are right and they are wrong. But I’m telling you, in this moment, you have to make the determination to forgive.”
I liked the first part of what Rich said. I felt then and I feel now that I was in the right in this conflict. I liked his encouragement to keep going in ministry. What was a hard pill to swallow was his admonition to forgive.
I didn’t want to forgive. I was in pain.
But Rich was right.
How Can We Possibly Forgive?
Forgiveness, on its face, seems absurd. And let’s be clear about what I’m talking about when I talk about forgiveness. I’m not referring to petty slights, mild annoyances, and garden-variety offenses. That guy who cuts you off in traffic, that lame meme a friend posted on Facebook, your teenager’s sharp attitude while walking out the door — these are not the hurts we are talking about. For those, we should, as Christians, learn to “forbear and forgive.”
But what about the deep, painful, life-altering hurts?
That email was the first of many hard emails in a painful year and a half of church ministry in which I lost quite a few friends and was slandered and rejected by some who raised me. I will not pretend that I was able to skate past these hurts like nothing happened. I won’t pretend that I was perfect in all my interactions. And I won’t pretend that what I’ve gone through is even close to what many who have experienced abuse, betrayal, and trauma have endured. But I do know this:
forgiveness, this otherworldly, uncommon, audacious form of love, is available to those who know God.
When I was reeling from betrayal, I found an anchor in what Scripture tells us about how to deal with our hurt, particularly in the story of Joseph.
Joseph was the favorite son in a family riddled with dysfunction. Joseph was the great-grandson of Abraham, patriarch of a new nation God was forming as part of His plan to show Himself to the world and bring about redemption. His father, Jacob, was both a follower of Yahweh and a terribly flawed, scheming, passive husband and father.
While his older brothers toiled in the family business, Joseph was paraded around as the heir apparent, symbolized by a colorful coat. The brothers, bitter at their father for his favoritism, jealous of Joseph’s position, conspired to nearly kill him before humiliating him and throwing him into an old well. Then they trafficked him to some merchants who brought him to Egypt as a common slave. Meanwhile the brothers lied and told their father that his favorite son was killed by wild animals.
True forgiveness recognizes the depravity of evil.
We know the story, of course, but the violence and deceit don’t get easier to read the more familiar we are with it. The injustice leaps off the pages of Genesis as the epitome of the depravity of the human heart. And here is Joseph, who quickly went from a prince with dreams of greatness to a piece of property, a commodity in the world’s most powerful country.
Yet throughout the narrative is Moses’ reminder that “God was with Joseph.” In the pit, on the bumpy ride over to Egypt, in the prison after being falsely accused, and, of course, in his unlikely ascension to power in Egypt.
Joseph’s rags to riches story is inspiring, but what struck me in my pain, with Rich’s words echoing in my ears, was the way, years later, a powerful Joseph who could have enacted retribution on the flesh-and-blood family whose sinful jealousy and rage caused him so much suffering said this:
You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. — Genesis 50:20
Don’t miss what Joseph is saying to his brothers, decades after he was left for dead in the bottom of a well before being trafficked to merchants and sold as a slave. He refuses to soft-pedal the evil done to him: “You intended to harm me.” Other translations render this, “You meant for evil.”
We need to get something important out of the way here.
Forgiveness is not being passé about evil. Brushing off deep hurts as if they didn’t happen is not forgiveness.
Sometimes people talk about forgiving and forgetting, but do you think Joseph forgot what had been done to him? Do you think Joseph saw his brothers and said, “You know that time you betrayed me and lied about me and tried to ruin my life? I totally forgot that.”
Joseph wasn’t letting his brothers off the hook. He wasn’t saying that their actions were no big deal. No, he looked his brothers in the eyes and he said to them, “What you intended was evil.”
True forgiveness recognizes the depravity of evil.
And yet he makes a remarkable statement: “But God intended it for good.” The Hebrew reads something like, “God superintended it for good.” This here gives us the age-old paradox of both human responsibility and God’s sovereignty. I must confess that after decades of study, I still don’t totally understand how both of those things can fit together, but in the desert of my deepest hurt, this doctrine was like a spring of cool water.
Joseph could forgive because he trusted that God is sovereign over all things. God saw when Joseph was thrust deep into a used well. He saw when he was tied and bound like common cargo and hauled to Egypt. He saw when Joseph was falsely accused by Potiphar’s wife. That realization gave Joseph comfort.
It gives me comfort. It means that sinful human beings can plot evil, but ultimately God is working the worst things for my good and for his glory. I don’t totally understand it, but it gives me hope, it helps me sleep at night, it allows me to remember that we are living not simply in a world of chaos but in a world where God is in charge and ordering all things for His purposes.
This is the same message Paul is giving the church in Rome, which was increasingly facing persecution for their faith. He says to them,
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. — Romans 8:28
Sometimes this verse is trotted out as a trite attempt to wave away hurt. But if we truly understand God’s heart, a Father who is with us in our pain, we find comfort in knowing that while our world might be spinning out of control, there is one who upholds all things “by His powerful word” (Hebrews 1:3).
This is the same word Peter gave to the crowds at Pentecost:
This Man was handed over to you by God’s deliberate plan and foreknowledge; and you, with the help of wicked men, put Him to death by nailing Him to the cross. But God raised Him from the dead, freeing Him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on Him. — Acts 2:23–24
How can we forgive heinous acts done against us? We can look no farther than the cross, where the world’s greatest injustice was committed against the Son of God. If the cross, that symbol of torture and humiliation, was no accident but God’s plan to bring about our salvation, then we can see our lesser but still painful hurts as part of God’s plan for our good and His glory.
Excerpted from Agents of Grace by Daniel Darling, copyright Daniel Darling.
We all have hurt and pain that is difficult to forgive…maybe even to understand how we could ever forgive. But God has allowed these things in our lives to lead us toward the glory that He has planned for us. They are used to shape and make us like Jesus. Jesus suffered much more than any other human experience. And gave His life willingly that we might have an abundant life now and an eternal life with our Lord and Savior. Let us keep learning and trying again and again to forgive and pray for those who have hurt us, that they might receive grace and mercy just as we have.
Pastor Dale
