Showing posts with label forgiveness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label forgiveness. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Praying the Lord's Prayer in Violent Times - Brad Jersak

"RefuJesus" by David Hayward - http://nakedpastor.com/2015/11/refujesus/edpastor
You've noticed that we're living in very violent times. At home, abroad ... to the point of exhaustion, hopelessness and/or numbness. I see no reprieve in sight and every reason to expect further escalation. I find myself in daily need of prayers that guard my heart and mind from both despair and the vengeance fantasies of repressed rage. 


In that context, I have begun to pray the Lord's Prayer in a focused way on a daily basis with some new (to me) understanding about Christ's strategy in ordering the phrases in series as he does. Here is the part that seems super-relevant to us all right now:

Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us

This phrase calls me to forgive the sins of my enemies. And if we want to be a little technical, at least with the olde English, I think particularly of "trespassing sins." I remember wandering the gravel backroads of Manitoba, occasionally seeing signs that said, "Trespassers will be prosecuted" or less frequently, "Trespassers will be shot." 

'Trespasses' brings to mind the violation of boundaries by intruders. It can include everything from military incursions and occupation to a rash of local break-and-entries to the pettiness of feeling someone push my buttons with an intrusive word or look or social media posting. 'Trespasses' are about crossing boundaries. My boundaries. Jesus knows how trespassers threaten us, offend us, tempt us to react ...

Monday, June 15, 2015

Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word - Greg Albrecht

What've I got to do to make you love me? What've I got to do to make you care?—Sorry Seems to Be The Hardest Word, Elton John, 1976
Unrequited love normally brings to mind memories of romantic, "puppy love" that failed to hear an echo. But teenage infatuations that end in agonizing, emotional dramas are surpassed in intensity by the crushing heartbreak experienced when, for some reason, a parent or child fails to respond to each other. This is a story of a girl and the relationship she yearned to have with her father. 

Like many others in her generation, Karen grew up in a home ruled over by an authoritarian veteran of World War 2. Karen, now a senior citizen, grew up craving affection and praise from her father. But the times when she received attention seemed to have been reserved for those times when she needed (in her father's estimation) correction. 

Karen left home, went to college, married and made a new life. Even after her own children were adults and had themselves become parents, Karen continued to try to build a relationship with her father. She wasn't seeking her pound of flesh for the wrongs of the past—Karen simply wanted to create an atmosphere for reconciliation. But Karen discovered that "sorry seems to be the hardest word." When she talked with her father her attempts to discuss the oppressive relationship she had experienced and the punishment she regularly received were dismissed with "that's how my father treated me." At other times her father told her that the overbearing rules and harsh treatment to which he had subjected her had helped make her strong and prepared her for a successful life. He didn't get it. He never did. 

In his early 80's the World War 2 veteran developed cancer, and Karen again tried to seek healing and reconciliation. The last time Karen talked with her father was only a few weeks before he died. She flew in to visit him, hoping he would be willing to talk about their shared past. She just wanted to hear one word—"sorry"—but she returned home crestfallen. When Karen, my wife, walked off the plane with an anguished look on her face I immediately knew her quest was unsuccessful.

The knowledge that she would never be loved in return acted upon her ideas as a tide acts upon cliffs.—The Bridge of San Luis Rey, Thornton Wilder

"I'm Sorry"

It seems that the difficulty involved in articulating the words "I'm sorry" increases the closer the relationship one has (or had) with the person involved in the unresolved relationship. English poet and artist William Blake once noted that is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend. 

Saying the words "I'm sorry" goes against everything that human beings naturally hold near and dear. We never want to be or appear to be wrong because such an admission of weakness or acceptance of failure and fault makes us vulnerable, and we fight for all we are worth against being vulnerable. In most cases, the goal of human life is seen as trying to become secure and safe, inviolate and immune from the actions of others. Saying "I'm sorry" is an unnatural admission of guilt which leaves us exposed and vulnerable. 

However, ...

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

The Suffering Judge - Greg Albrecht

… If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us.—Romans 8:31-34
You probably have heard of honor killings. An "honor killing" is the term used to describe a practice in which one or more males murders a female relative who, according to their perspective, dishonored the family. 

Honor killings are usually inspired by cultures whose values are based on shame and honor. Based on our scriptural foundation in Romans 8:31-34, we're going to talk about shame and honor in The Suffering Judge. 

One of the most profound questions we humans can ever ponder has to do with the question of atonement. Given our complicity in hurt and pain, what does it take for us to find healing, forgiveness and peace? 

How can—how DOES—the Cross of Christ atone for the ugliness of our lives and make it right?

Human society has generally seen the problem of sin, guilt and shame being resolved by the shedding of blood— usually the blood of the perpetrator, the person who is deemed to have brought shame to the family or community. 

How can we find healing, forgiveness and peace? God provides an answer that is at odds with human ideas. While God offers a Christ-centered answer, religion, over the years, even within Christendom, has corrupted the love and mercy God offers. 

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

What 'Christ Died For Us' Meant to the Fathers - Brad Jersak

The following summary represents what we find in the classics of early Christian thought as they recalled the 'faith once delivered,' and sought to articulate the meaning of the Incarnation in light of the revelation that Christ was both fully human and fully divine. 

For primary readings on this, see for example:

Athanasius, On the Incarnation
Gregory of Nazianzus, Letters in Critique of Apollonarius
Cyril of Alexandria, On the Unity of Christ

When the apostles say Christ suffered and died for us, once for all (Rom 6:10; Heb 9:28; 1 Pet 3:18), for the forgiveness of sins (Acts 13:28; Col 2:13) and not ours only, everybody's (1 John 2:2), what does that actually mean? 

1. The NT connects sin with it's inherent destructive consequences, its intrinsic judgment. Among the metaphors used for what sin holds over the sinner are 'wages' (Rom 6:23) or 'debt' (Matt 6:12). Having collectively turned from God -- our source of life -- to sin -- the source of death -- humanity has come under the domination of sin and it's bitter fruit.

2. The NT identifies the destructive consequences of sin, ultimately, as the curse of death (Rom 5:12; 6:23). Sin condemns us to 'perish' (John 3:16-18), a death sentence already at work in us, through which the satan holds us in bondage to fear all our lives (Heb. 2:15).

3. The gospel of Jesus Christ is that Jesus has come to rescue, redeem or ransom us from the curse of sin, which is death. The Incarnation was God's decisive redemptive act, through which he set us free from root to fruit: from the domination of sin, the corruption of fallen sinful nature, and the condemnation of death itself.

4. How does Christ accomplish this redemption? 

a. The divine Word (God the Son) assumed the likeness of sinful human nature (Rom 8:3) in the person of Jesus Christ to heal human nature of the curse. As St. Gregory once wrote, 'Whatever is not assumed is not healed,' so Christ assumes the whole human condition in order to heal it all, including the curse of death itself. 

b. Christ proclaims the Father's grace and freedom to forgive sin by freely forgiving sin throughout his life and ministry, and then does so once, for all and forever, when on the Cross he invokes the Father's forgiveness, even for the supreme human sin of deicide. The Father's answer comes through the voice of the Son, 'It is accomplished.' Our sin is forgiven and our lives washed clean by this act of mercy and grace.

c. Having freely forgiven us, we are reconciled to the Father, but the curse of sin must still be broken: death itself must be eradicated. So Christ does for us what we were unable to do for ourselves. He dies to enter death and so to overcome it. As all the church fathers testify (from Irenaeus to Athanasius, to the two Gregorys, Cyril and Maximus the Confessor) If Christ were merely God, he could not die. But if he were merely man, he could not defeat death. So Jesus Christ, fully God and fully man, enters death by death to annihilate death itself. This victory is made complete and manifest in the resurrection and ascension of Christ. 

5. Thus, through Christ's incarnation, crucifixion and resurrection, he has brought about salvation (rescue from Satan, sin and death) for all people. His sacrifice was not the pagan appeasement of a wrathful deity, but rather, the sacrificial love of a God who became man to enter the human condition, including death and hades itself to rescue his beloved children. 

6. Yes, Christ died for the forgiveness of sin, but as we see, this is an abbreviation that includes the truths that Christ came, lived, died and rose for the forgiveness of sin, cancellation of the curse, and defeat of death. Now we are invited to return to the open arms of the Father who opened the way back home through his Son. As we respond, we experience now what Christ already accomplished. By faith, we experience that forgiveness and freedom and salvation from sin and its awful consequences. We find that just as God in Christ participated in our human nature, we who are in Christ participate in his divine nature. As he took on our likeness to heal humanity, we are transformed more and more into his likeness and glory.

7. This is the apostolic testimony, received and faithfully preserved by the early church. This is not a theory of the atonement, but the gospel itself, the faith once delivered from the beginning. In this Gospel, Jesus is indeed a substitute, in that he does vicariously, as a man, what humanity could not do for itself. What is it that he does for us? God-in-Christ engaged and experienced the penalty (wages, debt or curse) of our sin -- namely death itself -- triumphing over it through his death and resurrection. In exchanging his life for our death, we rise with him in his life and find that death is no more. 

For those committed to the language of 'penal substitution,' this telling of the gospel takes seriously the penalty of sin (death) and the substitution of Christ (as our vicarious representative), but it is distinguished from the much later version which identifies the penalty with God's wrath and punishment rather than sin's consequences and curse. In this telling, God the Word himself, via His incarnation as Jesus Christ, saves us from sin and death, swallowing them up in the magnificent victory of grace. 

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

"Changing Course" (Loving Our Enemies, chapter 1) by Jim Forest

Chapter 1 of Loving Our Enemies: Reflections on the Hardest Commandment by Jim Forest. The publisher is Orbis.]One day Jesus asked the question, “Do people gather figs from thistles?” The answer is of course no — you harvest what you plant. Plant thistles and thistles take root and thistles they become. If you want to grow figs, you need to start with fig seeds. With this question, Jesus implicitly ridicules the idea that good can be brought about by evil means. Violence is not the means of creating a peaceful society. Vengeance does not pave the road to forgiveness. Spousal abuse does not lay the foundation for a lasting marriage. Rage is not a tool of reconciliation.                    Yet, while figs do not grow from thistles, in the world of human choice and action, a positive change of attitude and direction is always a possibility. Sinners are the raw material of saints. The New Testament is crowded with accounts of transformations.In the Church of the Savior in the Chora district of Istanbul, there is a fourteenth-century Byzantine mosaic that, in a single image, tells a story of an unlikely transformation: the conversion of water into wine for guests at a wedding feast in the village of Cana. In the background Jesus — his right hand extended in a gesture of blessing — stands side by side with his mother. In the foreground we see a servant pouring water from a smaller jug into a larger one. The water leaves the first jug a pale blue and tile-by-tile becomes a deep purple as it reaches the lip of the lower jug. “This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana, in Galilee, and manifested his glory; and his disciples believed in him.” This “first sign” that Jesus gave is a key to understanding everything in the Gospel. Jesus is constantly bringing about transformations: blind eyes to seeing eyes, withered limbs to working limbs, sickness into wellbeing, guilt into forgiveness, strangers into neighbors, enemies into friends, slaves into free people, armed men into disarmed men, crucifixion into resurrection, sorrow into joy, bread and wine into himself. Nature cannot produce figs from thistles, but God is doing this in our lives all the time. God’s constant business in creation is making something out of nothing. As a Portuguese proverb declares, “God writes straight with crooked lines.”                                                                                                                                                                                                       CLICK HERE to read the rest of the chapter

Monday, July 14, 2014

Seinfeld and Michael Richards in Honest Conversation - Brad Jersak


"Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee"

A while back, Jerry Seinfeld created a little internet series called "Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee" -- a chance to improvise the chemistry of spontaneous moments with various actors and comedians from his world. The episode that grabbed my attention was his connection with Michael Richards, who played Kramer on "Seinfeld," the sitcom about nothing (by its own testimony). The Richards episode of "Comedians in Cars" is viewable here:

http://comediansincarsgettingcoffee.com/michael-richards-its-bubbly-time-jerry

What struck me were Richards' reflections and regrets on that fateful night at the Comedy Club when he reacted to hecklers with some racist slurs. Someone recorded the exchange on a smartphone and posted it to the internet. Call it one of those "Mel Gibson moments" (more on him later) ... a meltdown that you can't just rewind or delete. It becomes part of your 'permanent record.'

Seinfeld's brief and unscripted exchange with Richards about that night, seven years past, comes back to me frequently. Here's the transcript of those moments:
Michael Richards: I think I’ve worked selfishly, not selflessly. It’s not about me; it’s about them. 
Now that’s a lesson I learned seven years ago, when I blew it in the Comedy Club, lost my temper because someone interrupted my act and said some things that hurt me and I lashed out in anger. I should have been working selflessly that evening …  
I busted up after that event seven years ago. It broke me down. It was a selfish response. I took it too personally and I should have just said, ‘Yeah, you’re absolutely right, I’m not funny. I think I’ll go home and work on my material and I’ll see you tomorrow night.” And split or something. Anything. 
But you know, it was just one of those nights. 
And thanks for stickin’ by me. You know? No, really.  
Seinfeld: There was no issue with that. 
Richards: Well, I mean, it meant a lot to me. You know?  
Seinfeld: That’s nice.  
Richards: But inside, it still kicks me around a bit.  
Seinfeld: Well, that’s… Okay, well, that’s up to you.  
Richards: That’s a big cup too.  
Seinfeld: That’s up to you, to say, "I’ve been carrying this bag long enough. I’m going to put it down." 
Richards: Yeah … yeah. 
To clarify, Seinfeld sounds colder in the transcript than in the actual video, but it was clear that these are two dear friends, with a high level of mutual trust and the ability to shoot straight with each other. It's not for me to psychologize the conversation or critique Jerry's advice or how Richards received it. Rather, the chat struck a nerve for me because we all carry bags of regret ... often for years and years.

This is especially true when we have hurt others -- especially those we love -- and even more so when the harm done is ongoing.