Lent Wednesday Worship 2017
Ezekiel 18:25-32, Psalm 103:6-14, Ephesians 4:25-32
Preached by Pastor Anna C. Haugen, Augustana and Birka Lutheran Churches, Underwood, ND
May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of my heart, be acceptable in your sight, my rock and my redeemer.
Grace and peace to you from God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Of course we all know that Christians should forgive, and we all know that God forgives. This is one of the central tenets of the Christian faith. But when you start looking at what that looks like in practice, well, then things get a little murky. Because in practice, we don’t always agree on what that looks like. Is there something special you have to do or say to be forgiven? Do you have to stop doing the sin? And what if it’s an addiction or caused by a mental illness, and you can’t stop? Or what if people don’t believe you’ve stopped? Or what if you are sincere in your desire to change, and backslide anyway? Some people would say that everything can be forgiven and there are no requirements. Take that too far, and you get kind of a loosey-goosey nothing matters anything goes world. Nothing matters because anything can and will get forgiven and swept under the rug. On the other hand, some people would say that there are things that can’t be forgiven, and that there are pre-requisites to being forgiven, which quickly sets us up as judge, jury, and executioner. Forgiveness becomes something you earn, instead of a gift given from God, and the world is divided up into “good” people who deserve forgiveness and “bad” people who don’t, and then you can do anything to the “bad” people because after all, they deserve whatever they get. Forgiveness is a great principle, but in practice it gets very messy.
Part of the problem comes with the phrase “forgive and forget,” where once something is forgiven you’re supposed pretend it never happened. But no matter how hard you pretend, it still happened. Hurt was done. Pretending doesn’t make it not have happened. For example, if someone gets drunk and then gets behind the wheel of a car and hits someone on their way home, and kills them and totals their car, forgiving them doesn’t mean it never happened. The victim is still dead. The car is still totaled. The consequences still exist—not just consequences for the person who drove drunk, but for a lot of other people. Forgiveness doesn’t mean the consequences go away. So what does it mean?
I think the first thing to remember is that we are not God, and this is not heaven. We forgive because we have ourselves been forgiven and we have the example in Jesus’ love, but we don’t forgive in the same way God does. God removes our sins from us—but we can’t remove other peoples’ sins from them. God heals us and heals the world, and when Christ comes again all the things in ourselves and in the universe that are broken now will be healed and made better than they ever have been before. That’s what God’s kingdom is: a place where everything and everyone is healed and whole and there is no pain or suffering. And God’s forgiveness is an important part of what heals the world. But we don’t live there yet, and while we can make this world better than it is we can’t make it as good as it will be when Christ comes again. Our forgiveness and our capacity for healing are, in this world, finite. So what does it mean to forgive in this world where consequences continue even after forgiveness, and healing can only go so far?
We forgive because God has forgiven us. We love because God loves us, and taught us what true love really means through the life, death, and resurrection of his son. God’s goal for us—for each one of us as individuals, for us as a community, for humanity as a whole, and for the entire cosmos—is to be made whole and life full and abundant lives. God does not want us to be broken. God does not want us to be in pain. Jesus came that we might have life, and have it abundantly. But we turn away. We hurt ourselves and others. We break things, and people, and communities, and the fractures spread further than we know. The easy thing to do is to respond in kind: to return pain for pain, evil for evil, hurt for hurt. And if we can’t get back at the one who hurt us, well, surely we can find someone else to dump our pain on, until it becomes routine. Until anger and fear and hate and resentment and malice and selfishness guide how we see the world, and each step takes us and our community further away from God’s love and abundant life.
The only way to turn away from that path—the only way to turn back towards the abundant life God gives—is forgiveness. Not as a way of pretending the evil didn’t happen, not as a way of sweeping things under the rug, but as a way of guiding our own actions. We can’t control other people. All we can do is guide how we respond. Are we going to be cruel, or kind? Are we going to add to the pain in the world or, so far as it depends on us, bring healing? Are we going to tear down or build up?
I know a number of people who were abused as children. In some cases it was simple neglect. In others, complex emotional manipulation. In others, physical abuse. There are a lot of reasons for it: some of the abusers had been abused as children themselves and just didn’t know healthy ways of treating their children. Other abusive parents just didn’t want children in the first place and probably should never have had them. Other abusers were just plain cruel, or self-centered, or in a few cases had untreated mental illness. And our society hates to admit that sometimes people abuse or neglect children in their care. We assume it can’t be true unless there is incredibly blatant evidence hitting us in the face that can’t possibly be explained away any other way. And so, most of the time, we blame the victim. They must just be a bad kid. And how ungrateful they are that they don’t want to spend time with their parents!
The abuse survivors have to live with the consequences of others’ actions: not just the actions of the abusers, but of everyone around who looked away or assumed that everything was fine. Years of trauma that have caused anxiety, PTSD, and a variety of psychological problems. Many of them—quite justifiably—hate and fear the ones who harmed them so deeply. People say, “oh, you should forgive them and mend your relationship!” But if the abuser continues the same behaviors, there is no way to mend the relationship without opening the door to further abuse. Even when the abuser really has changed, the damage done may be great enough that no relationship in this life could ever be healthy. So the most loving thing to do may be to say “I forgive that person. I don’t hold any bitterness about their actions in my heart, I’m not brooding over what they did to me, but I can’t be around them.” The most loving and forgiving thing may be a clean break that allows people new space to grow in. It’s not necessarily “nice,” and it certainly isn’t forgetting what has been done. But it is a way that opens space for building up new lives, new hopes, new grace.
God loves us always, unconditionally. But God hates the way we hurt ourselves and each other. Through our actions and inactions, we add to the pain in the world, the suffering, the malice, the grief. There will come a day when all that is broken will be made whole, when all pain and suffering will be healed, when all tears are wiped away. That day will come when Christ comes again. Until that time, we are called to live in love and forgiveness. We can’t fix all the broken things, but we can open up space for love and kindness to grow. Even when a relationship can’t be repaired, we don’t have to carry the bitterness with us in our hearts. Sometimes forgiveness means trying again; sometimes forgiveness means learning to move on.