336 Sermon Illustrations on Forgiveness

Do you consider yourself among "the forgiven"?

British Nurse Edith Cavell was executed in 1915. German authorities claimed she had assisted Allied soldiers in escaping from Belgium to the Netherlands, a neutral country.

This First World War witnessed the deaths of 9.7 million combatants during its duration. So what makes Nurse Cavell stand out? It was the spirit in which she died. True she had allowed the hospital under her control to be used by the underground. But the execution of a civilian nurse was not within the rules of war. Nevertheless, just before her death, she breathed these words, "Patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness toward anyone."

Could you have been that forgiving? Perhaps you are struggling just to forgive some neighbor, coworker, or family member who has barely slighted you. Although forgiveness is tough, we must not forget the words of Christ: "And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins" (Mark 11:25 NIV. You do want God to forgive you, don't you?

Remember: God's forgiveness is for "the forgiving."

In 1925, a young American physicist was doing graduate work at Cambridge University, in England. He was depressed. He was fighting with this mother and had just broken up with his girlfriend. His strength was in theoretical physics, but he was being forced to sit in a laboratory making thin slices of beryllium. In the fall of that year, he dosed an apple with noxious chemicals from the lab and put it on the desk of his tutor, Patrick Blackett. Blackett, luckily, didn’t eat the poisoned apple. But school officials found out what happened, and arrived at a punishment: the student was to be put on probation and ordered to go to London for regular sessions with a psychiatrist.

Probation? These days, we routinely suspend or expel high-school students for doing infinitely less harmful things, things that typical teenagers do. To acknowledge that the causes of our actions are complex and muddy seems permissive, and permissiveness is the hallmark of an ideology now firmly in disgrace. That conservative patron saint Whittaker Chambers once defined liberalism as Christ without the Crucifixion. But punishment without the possibility of redemption is worse: it is the Crucifixion without Christ.

As for the student whose career Cambridge saved? He left at the end of the academic year and went to study at the University of Göttingen, where he made important contributions to quantum theory. Later, after a brilliant academic career, he was entrusted with leading one of the most critical and morally charged projects in the history of science. His name was Robert Oppenheimer, father of the atomic bomb.

Forgetting those things which are behind … I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. — Philippians 3:13, 14.

It is not by regretting what is irreparable that true work is to be done, but by making the best of what we are. It is not by complaining that we have not the right tools, but by using well the tools we have. What we are, and where we are, is God’s providential arrangement — God’s doing, though it may be man’s misdoing. Life is a series of mistakes, and he is not the best Christian who makes the fewest false steps. He is the best who wins the most splendid victories by the retrieval of mistakes. — F. W. Robertson.

My mistakes His free grace will cover,

My sins He will wash away,

And the feet that shrink and falter

Shall walk through the gates of day.

In the Old Testament I like the story of Joseph, particularly its outcome. Joseph is the favored one. The older brothers say, “Dad always liked you best.” In this case it was true. The brothers go out and fake Joseph’s death. They bring back some bloodied clothes and say to their father, “He is dead.” In actuality they have sold him into slavery in Egypt. Time passes. Famine comes to Israel. These brothers are forced to go to Egypt and ask the king for food. Traditionally, the king has been their enemy. Can you imagine the drama of that moment when they lift up their eyes and see their brother? There is an exchange and the very last line is the most important. Joseph looks upon them with the eyes of forgiveness and says, “You intended what you did to me as something that would create evil, but God and I were able to bend it into something good.” You see, the noblest revenge is to forgive your enemy, and it is perhaps the last of the lessons that we learn from Jesus.

The words of Jesus that we would like to duck most are the ones in front of us, the ones about forgiving enemies. They are so difficult. Fred Craddock, a good teacher of New Testament and preaching, was teaching an undergraduate course in Oklahoma on the Gospels of Jesus. He was taking the simple writings of Jesus and putting them plainly in front of his students. There was a girl sitting in the back of the class, and as he came to the part about loving your enemies, she stood up and started slamming her books all around. She started mumbling, “Jesus and the losers. I hate Jesus and the losers. I can’t stand this.” She stuffed her bag and went out still mumbling, “Jesus and a bunch of losers, forgiving their enemies.”

Frederick Buechner said: When somebody you have wronged forgives you, you are spared the dull and self-diminishing throb of a guilty conscience. When you forgive someone who has wronged you, you are spared the dismal corrosion of bitterness and wounded pride for both parties. Forgiveness means the freedom again to be at peace inside your own skin and to be glad in each other’s presence.

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There was a Zen school in Japan. They were training young boys in the discipline of meditation. The boys had been taken into seclusion. Among the boys there was one who kept stealing. So the boys finally put together a petition and brought he thief to the headmaster and stood there and said, “We are threatening right now to leave because we can’t stand this kid any longer.” With wisdom the Zen master approached them, looked at them, and said, “You are wise brothers. You are very wise. You are wise because you know the difference between right and wrong. You may go somewhere else to study if you wish, but this poor brother does not even know right from wrong. Who will teach him if I do not? I am going to keep him here even if all the rest of you leave.” The story goes that a torrent of tears cleansed the face of that boy who had stolen, and the desire to steal was banished from him forever in that decisive moment.

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Resisting Revenge

When we are wronged in some way, our natural inclination is to fight back, to get even. Needless to say, this reaction, though thoroughly human, is almost always in error. “Forgiveness,” said Epictetus, “is better than revenge, for forgiveness is the sign of a gentle nature, but revenge is the sign of a savage nature.”

A dramatic example is the experience of a Hungarian refugee — to protect his privacy we’ll call him Joseph Kudar. Kudar was a successful young lawyer in Hungary before the uprisings in that country in 1956. A strong believer in freedom for his country, he fought Soviet tanks in the streets of Budapest with his friends. When the uprising failed, he was forced to flee the country.

When Kudar arrived in the U.S. he had no money, no job, no friends. He was, however, well educated; he spoke and wrote several languages, including English. For several months he tried to get a job in a law office, but because of his lack of familiarity with American law, he received only polite refusals.

Finally, it occurred to him that with his knowledge of language he might be able to get a job with an import-export company. He selected one such company and wrote a letter to the owner.

Two weeks later he received an answer, but was hardly prepared for the vindictiveness of the man’s reply. Among other things, it said that even if they did need someone, they wouldn’t hire him because he couldn’t even write good English.

Crushed, Kudar’s hurt quickly turned to anger. What right did this rude, arrogant man have to tell him he couldn’t write the language! The man was obviously crude and uneducated — his letter was chock-full of grammatical errors!

Kudar sat down and, in the white heat of anger, wrote a scathing reply, calculated to rip the man to shreds. When he’d finished, however, as he was reading it over, his anger began to drain away. Then he remembered the biblical admonition, “A soft answer turneth away wrath.”

No, he wouldn’t mail the letter. Maybe the man was right. English was not his native tongue. Maybe he did need further study in it. Possibly this man had done him a favor by making him realize he did need to work harder on perfecting his English.

Kudar tore up the letter and wrote another. This time he apologized for the previous letter, explained his situation, and thanked the man for pointing out his need for further study.

Two days later he received a phone call inviting him to New York for an interview. A week later he went to work for them as a correspondent. Later, Joseph Kudar became vice president and executive officer of the company, destined to succeed the man he had hated and sought revenge against for a fleeting moment — and then resisted.

Bits & Pieces, March 31, 1994, pp. 12-15

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Prayer for Enemies

Almighty and tender Lord Jesus Christ,

Just as I have asked you to love my friends

So I ask you to love my enemies.

You alone, Lord, are mighty.

You alone are merciful.

Whatever you make me desire for my enemies,

Give it to them.

And give the same back to me.

If I ever ask for them anything

Which is outside your perfect rule of love,

Whether through weakness, ignorance or malice,

Good Lord, do not give it to them

And do not give it back to me.

You who are the whole truth, correct their errors.

You who are the incarnate word, give life to their souls.

Tender Lord Jesus.

Let me not be a stumbling block to them

Nor a rock of offence.

My sin is sufficient to me, without harming others.

I, a slave to sin,

Beg your mercy on my fellow slaves.

let them, be reconciled with you,

And through you reconciled to me.

Anselm of Canterbury

My last year at the seminary I had an intriguing roommate. He was from the land of the rising sun and before arriving to his destination, he had traveled all over Russia by train, a dream that had been his since childhood. This young man was absolutely amazing. You could pick up any book, ask him to read it out loud, and while he was doing so, you could slowly turn the book upside down and back. He would continue to read as if the pages hadn’t moved.

His favorite pastime was traveling, and one day he asked me if he could borrow my car. Since he was such a terrific roommate in every way, I didn’t hesitate to give him the keys. I was in the middle of a discussing with other students at the time, and I didn’t give it another thought until he showed up, looking pale and horrified, half an hour later.

“Hey my friend,” I called. “You’re back! That was fast!”

“Uh … “ He began, and if possible his face paled further. “ … I had a little problem!”

“A problem?” I asked, not yet feeling the alarm he obviously portrayed. “What kind of a problem?”

“Uh … Your car is in the ditch!”

Now my own face paled. “In the ditch? What happened?”

“Well, I was driving along, minding my own business, when a truck appeared in my lane, heading straight for me! It would have been a sure head-on collision if I hadn’t driven it into the ditch!”

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” was his answer. “Just a little shaken up. I’m just concerned about your car.”

“Are there any damages?”

“None at all. At least I don’t think there are any. But I can’t get it out of the ditch.”

I didn’t figure that would be much of a problem. “We’ll just ask my buddies to come help us out and the car will be out of the ditch in one, two, three,” I reassured him. “By the way, where did it happen?”

“It happened close to the chapel,” he explained. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Why can’t people stay on their own side of the road!”

While we were walking towards the ditch that contained my “stuck” car, my Japanese friend’s eyes opened up wide. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Didn’t you see that car?”

“The one that just passed us?” I asked. “Yes, I saw it!”

“Didn’t you see that he was driving on the wrong side of the road?”

“No,” I responded, puzzled. “He was on the right side!”

“The RIGHT side?” Asked my friend obviously puzzled. “Shouldn’t he be driving on the left side?”

Then it dawned on me. My roommate, who was from a country that drove on the left side of the road, didn’t know that in mainland Europe, cars drove on the right side. Unknowingly he was the reason my car was in the ditch! He had been driving on the wrong side all along! And when brought face to face with a car driving on the wrong side, instead of moving over to where he should have been driving, he chose the ditch. I felt so sorry for him, and I spent the rest of our walk to my car persuading him that we all make mistakes. We had a good laugh afterwards.

And we all DO make mistakes! And just like my Japanese roommate, one day we will have to face up to them. There will be a day when we will be facing our Almighty God and we will have to give accounts to how we spent our time on this planet. We may think: “Oh, God is all loving. He will forgive everyone.” And yes, His forgiveness IS for everyone, but only when we accept Jesus’ gift.

Or maybe we think that there is no God, so we have nothing to worry about. Again, what if we are wrong? Are we ready to face the consequences of our actions?

There is only one way to avoid the penalty of hell bestowed on all sinners: Accepting the blood of Jesus. He is the One who made it possible for us to be reconciled with God. He willingly died in our place so that we could live for eternity in His presence. The only catch is that we need to accept His offer. Ignoring it keeps us guilty of our sins, keeps us heading straight for trouble, and the consequences are worse than being stuck in a ditch.

Are you on the right side of the road?

Oh no! A truck is coming right towards you! What will you do?

The film ATONEMENT won a Golden Globe for Best Drama and has been nominated for an Academy Award for Best Picture [it lost]. It may look like just another period drama, but there is something in this film that is resonating deeply with audiences. It might be the love story or the performances or even the look of the film, but I would venture that it is something deeper: the way it touches on one of our deepest spiritual needs. (Before I go on, you need to know that I am not recommending the film. It deserves its “R” rating. But I do think the film’s themes are having an impact, and Christians should be ready to discuss them.)

The story revolves around a little girl named Briony Tallis, who tells a lie. She claims she saw a man who molested her cousin one night, when it was actually too dark for her to be sure of what she saw. For reasons of her own, Briony is convinced that she really knows who committed the crime and that she is doing the right thing by swearing that she saw him do it. But her lie sends an innocent man to prison and lets the real rapist go free.

Her guilt, as she comes to realize what she has done, haunts Briony for the rest of her life. The title of the film, though, is deeply ironic, because although she tries in her own way to atone, all her attempts fall short.

It makes the story all the more poignant when you learn that Ian McEwan, author of the critically acclaimed novel on which the film is based, is an atheist. In a recent interview, McEwan told the New Republic, “It is crucial that people who do not have a sky god and do not have a set of supernatural beliefs, assert their belief in moral values and in love and in the transcendence that they might experience in landscape or art or music or sculpture or whatever.” He continues, “Since they do not believe in an afterlife, it makes them give more valence to life itself.”

But when you apply McEwan’s reasoning to his own story, the resulting principle is unbearable. Briony’s victim had the only life he could ever know taken away from him. But Briony’s plight is even worse. She is never able to earn forgiveness from the people she wronged, and, if McEwan’s beliefs are correct, there is no God to forgive her for her disobedience to the “moral values.” She has, as the novel suggests, played God with people’s lives, but she has neither God’s power of omniscience nor His power to bring good out of evil.

As his story suggests, McEwan’s universe — as noble as he tries to make it sound — offers no second chances for those who get it wrong. Atonement, the theological doctrine that for Christians provides the path to a restored relationship with God, here becomes only an elusive, mocking wish that can never be fulfilled.

Although McEwan’s atheism is not spelled out in the story, the viewer comes away with a sense of tragedy and waste that reflects the author’s ideas, perhaps even better than he knows. But the film also makes us face our own desperate need for atonement and forgiveness. It just goes to show, yet again, that the truth of the human condition and the law of God are written on our hearts, no matter what we tell ourselves we believe.

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Copyright (c) 2008 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

I said in my haste, “I am cut off from before Your eyes.” —Psalm 31:22

When I first acquired an adorable puppy named Dolly, she filled my days with frequent trips to my backyard. Then she began using these occasions to explore places I didn’t want her to go. By offering her a reward, I was able to teach her to respond to my command, “Come!” But eventually, the rewards weren’t enough to get her to come back to me. So I bought a leash on a reel that gives Dolly a safe amount of freedom, but gives me the option of “reeling her in” when she ventures too far.

This reminds me of God’s dealings with a drug-addicted man named Derek. Longing to break his addiction, he stayed in our home, where he became God’s child. He overcame his habit but he still battled with temptation. One day he gave in, ran away, and used some drugs. Then guilt overwhelmed him as he sat despondently on a park bench. He felt like the psalmist David (Psalm 31:22) and said to himself, “I’m cut off from the Lord. I’m finished.” But the long leash of God’s love tugged on his heart. Immediately, Derek asked for the Lord’s forgiveness and made his way back to us (Psalm 32:3-5).

If you’re going the wrong way and feel cut off from God, remember, you can return. Respond to the tug of His forgiving love on your heart and come back to Him today. —JEY

O Lord, return to me Your power

That once by grace I knew;

Forgive the sin that grieved Your heart,

And help me to be true. —Anon.

True repentance turns from the wrong and returns to the right.

Tamatoe (Ta-ma-TOE-eh), king of Huahine, an island about 80 miles west northwest of Tahiti, became a Christian in 1818 as a result of the labors of missionaries from the London Missionary Society. Some of Tamatoe’s heathen neighbors on a nearby island hated Christianity and determined to burn Tamatoe to death, along with those who had become Christians with him.

However, the plot was discovered by the Christians, and a band of them hid near the landing site. As their enemies leaped from their canoes in the dark, they were disarmed without receiving any physical harm. Now weaponless, the heathen were sure they were going to be put to a cruel death. We can imagine their surprise when Tamatoe and his fellow Christians treated them kindly because, as they explained, Jesus taught His followers to be kind to their enemies.

But the Christians went further. They prepared a sumptuous feast and invited their former enemies to partake of it with them. At the end of the repast one of the heathen chiefs stood up and said that because of this unexpected kindness, he had decided to become a follower of Christ. Others joined him, and within days every heathen idol on their island was destroyed and the people became Christians.

The first thing I did when I got engaged was call my parents and grandparents to tell them the good news. My grandfather -- equal parts straight-shooter and comedian -- remarked: “Well, that’s pretty good, I guess. I just have one question. Do you like this girl?”

The question took me off guard. Why else would I have asked her to be my wife? “I love her with all my heart,” I said.

He replied, “I didn’t ask you if you loved her. I asked if you liked her. You’re going to be married to her for the rest of your life, and you’re probably going to disagree and argue and fight a lot, so if you’re going to work through conflict, you better really like this girl as a person and a friend.”

He knew a truth about all relationships: conflict happens. Broken relationships often go off track because somebody insists on having something their way. Jacob and Esau are a prime example, but they also show us the key to repairing a broken relationship.

Jacob was continually grabbing at his brother’s heel. He grabbed Esau’s birthright. He grabbed Esau’s blessing. And if he wasn’t careful, he was going to grab more than he bargained for: “Esau held a grudge against Jacob because of the blessing his father had given him. And Esau determined in his heart: ‘The days of mourning for my father are approaching; then I will kill my brother Jacob’” (Genesis 27:41).

If you’ve ever been let down or injured, if you’ve ever experienced searing anger, then you can relate to the raw emotion Esau expressed toward Jacob. Esau felt his anger was justified, and we often feel the same.

A relationship that once was a blessing can become broken.

Twenty years later, Jacob had become a changed man. More than having matured, he had moved forward in repentance and restoration. This required humility. Humility is a needed cure for the sickness of a broken relationship. Thankfully, God had also been at work in Esau’s life.

In the end, the brothers were able to reconcile because one humbled himself and the other forgave. Either one could have kept up the wall. Both were willing to knock it down. In the same way, it’s up to us to knock down the walls we’ve put up in our lives. We start here:

If you’ve wronged someone, ask forgiveness. If needed, seek to make restitution.

If someone wronged you, forgive. Period. Even if the offender never apologizes, forgive.

Our example is Jesus Christ, who came to earth for the very purpose of reconciling us to God and restoring our right standing with God. He forgave all who killed Him, and He forgives us.

Exercise humility and take the first step. Trust God with the rest.

A Gatlinburg, Tennessee, man who lost his wife and two daughters in the wildfires that swept through the area has extended forgiveness publicly to two juveniles suspected of starting the blaze.

Constance Reed, 34, and her daughters Chloe, 12, and Lily, 9, were in their home when they saw flames across the street. Constance called her husband, Michael, who was out driving with their son. They knew of the wildfires but had no idea they were so close to their home. Michael told her to call 911, then they expressed their love for each other.

They never spoke again. The three deaths were announced at a press conference five days later.

WBIR reported that the entire family attended Parkway Church of God in Sevierville, Tennessee, and “all accepted Christ into their lives this past month.”

On December 7 two juvenile suspects were arrested. Their names were not released.

Michael Reed posted a public Facebook message that said, “I forgive you. My son forgives you ... We know you didn’t mean for this to happen. We know you would take it all back if you could. We will pray for you. Every day. We will pray for your parents and your family members. Every day. We will pray for your peace. We will show you grace. Why? Because that’s what Jesus would do. Faith ... Hope ... Love ... The greatest of these is love.”

Reed told the Knoxville News-Sentinel he believes his wife and daughters would want him to forgive the two suspects.

“If you live your whole life holding a grudge against everybody who has ever hurt you, then you will be lonely the rest of your life,” Reed said. “The true definition of a Christian is doing the right thing when nobody is looking. I hurt and can be angry with them. This is not how our life was supposed to be. But if Jesus has forgiven me and my neighbors for our sins, I have to follow in His footsteps.”

His Facebook post continued, “As I learned of your arrests last week I sat in silence for a long time. You may be too young to understand this, but even through this tragedy I can feel God with me and my son. ... As humans, it is sometimes hard to show grace. We hold grudges. We stay angry. We point the finger and feel we have to lay the blame somewhere. It’s human nature and completely understandable. But I did not raise my children to live with hate. I did not teach my girls or my son to point the finger at others. John 8:7 says ‘Let he who has not sinned cast the first stone.’

“Forgiveness isn’t for you,” Reed stated. “It’s for me. It’s for my son. It’s for Constance, Chloe, and Lily. It is for this community who lost so much in this tragedy.”

According to media reports, the fire started November 23, killing at least 14 people and destroying more than 2,400 homes and businesses and churches.

The New York Times Magazine recently ran a stunning, moving piece about murder, justice and forgiveness.

Three years ago, Kate and Andy Grosmaire received the kind of news that is every parent’s worst nightmare: Their daughter, Ann, had been shot in the head by her fiancée, Conor McBride.

When Andy Grosmaire arrived at the hospital, he realized that unless God did something “wondrous,” Ann would not survive.

Sadly, Ann ultimately died. But, nevertheless, before she did, something wondrous did happen. While he stood praying at his unconscious daughter’s bedside, Grosmaire felt he heard Ann say “Forgive him.” His initial response was to say “No way. That’s impossible.” But he continued to hear Ann say “Forgive him.”

When McBride’s father arrived at the hospital, Andy Grosmaire hugged him and thanked him for coming, adding “but I might hate you by the end of the week.”

For reasons Andy still doesn’t understand, Conor McBride listed Andy’s wife Kate as one of the people allowed to visit him in jail. As she left to visit him, she asked her husband if he had a message for the man who had shot their daughter. Andy replied “tell him I love him, and I forgive him.”

As extraordinary as that was, what Kate and Andy Grosmaire understood by forgiveness was not limited to words. After meeting the prosecutor prosecuting McBride, they realized that they had it in their power to affect the outcome of the trial. After meeting with Conor McBride, they asked that he receive a 10-to-15 year sentence.

The prosecutor, sympathetic to the family’s wishes but still representing the state’s and community’s interest, insisted that McBride serve twenty years -- under Florida law he could have served a life sentence and may have been sentenced to death.

The Grosmaire’s pursuit of what Christians call “restorative justice” was not limited to reaching out to Conor McBride. Andy Grosmaire didn’t wind up hating Conor’s father. On the contrary, the experience brought the two families closer.

The kind of forgiveness on display in this story is the antithesis of what Dietrich Bonhoeffer called “cheap grace.” The Grosmaires are all too aware of the damage McBride caused, and they still feel the pain that that damage inflicted. As Kate Grosmaire told the New York Times, “forgiving Conor doesn’t change the fact that Ann is not with us ... I walk by her empty bedroom at least twice a day.”

Andy Grosmaire is equally clear-eyed about what happened: he rejects talk about “God’s plan” and sentimental drivel about God “wanting another angel.”

So, why did they forgive their daughter’s murderer? Because Andy Grosmaire realized that “it was not just Ann asking [him] to forgive Conor, it was Jesus Christ.” As Andy put it, “I hadn’t said no to him before, and I wasn’t going to start then.”

Saying “yes” to forgiveness was the only way forward from this unimaginable loss. As Kate Grosmaire put it, “Conor owed us a debt he could never repay. And releasing him from that debt would release us from expecting that anything in this world could satisfy us.”

This kind of forgiveness is Christianity’s greatest calling card. To be able to love those who have done you unimaginable harm and seek their good is truly wondrous.

Other faiths speak about mercy and compassion. Some even urge you to “let go” of old wounds for your own sake. But Christians worship a savior who, even as he was unjustly executed, prayed for those who placed him on the cross and insists that those who profess his name love their enemies, not just their friends.

It’s what makes this kind of “yes” possible.

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Copyright (c) 2013 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

I took Intermediate Greek in seminary with Dr. John Polhill, and we did our work in Philippians for the entire semester. Each student had to select a passage in Philippians on which to write three exegetical papers. I grew up listening to my dad preach a wonderful message on Philippians 2:1-11, so I selected that passage for my papers. That beautiful passage that some think was an early Christian hymn tells all about the humility of Christ and how He voluntarily set aside privileges that were rightly His in order to serve humanity.

I was pumped about digging into the Greek syntax and learning more about it. I studied that passage for four months. I did lexical work, syntactical work and exegetical work. I knew the ins and outs of all the Greek clauses. In fact, I memorized the passage in Greek. You could say I was an expert on Philippians 2.

The problem is that while I worked hard to become an intellectual expert on Philippians 2, I didn’t work hard to become a practical expert on it. Far from having the mind of Christ (Philippians 2:5) and far from displaying the humility of Christ, I actually became more arrogant and prideful. Despite Dr. Polhill’s best efforts to challenge the students, including me, to make this more than an intellectual exercise, I failed to adequately apply the passage to my life.

Regretfully, as a young minister, I have often been guilty of arrogance and pride. I have often thought I knew better than my elders. I have often been cocksure that my solutions to the problems were always the correct ones. I still have Philippians 2:5-11 memorized, at least in English, but I often fail in having the mind of Christ.

And yet, the other day I was convicted and challenged anew to apply Philippians 2 in my life when I got to see firsthand a brother in Christ powerfully demonstrate the humility of Jesus to me.

I met recently with some state convention executive directors. Backstory: I have at times been very critical of state conventions and state convention leaders. So, I was meeting with some men who had every reason to be upset with me.

One of the men in the room was Dr. J. Robert White, the executive director of Georgia’s state convention, and he asked to go first. I braced myself wondering what he would say. However, Dr. White turned the conversation on a dime and changed the temperature of the room with his first sentence, “Jonathan, I want to ask you to forgive me.” I was caught off guard and humbled within seconds.

Dr. White went on to say that I had written some hurtful things about the Georgia Baptist Convention, and he said that instead of doing the biblical thing that he knew to do -- call me or come see me to talk it out like brothers -- he chose to just be upset with me. For that he said he was sorry and sought my forgiveness.

It was such a powerful moment. I was almost moved to tears and did choke up when it was my turn to speak (especially since it’s a ministry of Georgia Baptists that led to my mom to faith in Christ while she lived at the Georgia Baptist Children’s Home). It was a powerful moment because Dr. White displayed the mind of Christ. Dr. White is a man in a very important position. He is my elder. He has tenure in ministry longer than I have been alive. He honestly didn’t owe me anything. I hadn’t had the respect or courtesy to call him or sit down with him before I wrote those things. And yet, he voluntarily humbled himself before me. He apologized to me. He sought my forgiveness. In that moment I was reminded of Philippians 2 again, and I knew that’s the kind of man I want to be.

I was staggered. I was humbled by Dr. White. Of course, I forgave him and I sought his forgiveness in return. In my zeal to see more resources get to the places with little to no gospel witness, I have sometimes been guilty of being uncharitable to other brothers and have arrogantly thought my proposed solutions are the only right ones. Dr. White graciously forgave me as well.

It was an encouraging and convicting meeting -- one I’ll never forget. And it’s a reminder to me that knowing the Word is one thing but practicing the Word is quite another. I hope this will be a challenge to all students and young pastors. I know it’s a challenge to me. “Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus” (Phil 2:5) and “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only” (James 1:22).

In 1993, when Oshea Israel was 16 years old, he was involved with gangs and drugs. One night at a party, he got into a fight with a 20 year-old Laramium Byrd, and shot and killed him. When Oshea was serving his term in Stillwater Prison, Laramium’s mom Mary Johnson requested a face-to-face meeting. He had denied many requests before, but he finally agreed to see her. Mary wanted to see if he was in the same mindset as before. Mary also wanted to talk about her son, to let him know that her son was real. Oshea listened.

By end of that meeting, she was overcome with emotion and fell apart. Oshea, not knowing what to do, simply held her and hugged her. Mary said to Oshea, “After you left the room, I began to say, ‘I just hugged the man that murdered my son.’ And I instantly knew that all that anger and the animosity, all that stuff I had in my heart for 12 years for you – I knew it was over, that I had totally forgiven you.” Mary’s forgiveness did not stop there. When he was released from prison in 2010, Mary and Oshea continued their relationship and now, the two live right next door to each other. They treat each other like mother and son. Mary said to Oshea, “My natural son is no longer here. I didn’t see him graduate. Now, you are going to college. I’ll have the opportunity to see you graduate and hopefully one day, to see you get married.” Oshea said to Mary, “Sometimes, I still don’t know how to take it, because I haven’t totally forgiven myself. It’s something that I’m learning from you.”

It is a process for the both of them, allowed by Mary’s daring forgiveness. Mary’s forgiveness has given Oshea another chance at living a different life, motivated to stay on track. Mary has let go of all the pain and anger and opened up to this new way of relating to her son’s murderer. Oshea is learning to let go of his past. Mary’s unimaginable forgiveness allowed both Mary and Oshea a chance at new life.

So much of forgiving is about letting go. Unless we let go of our anger and hurt by forgiving those who have wronged us, we will be stuck. We forgive others, not only because we have been forgiven, but also because in forgiving others, we become free ourselves. What pain, anger, and wounds are you holding on to? What or who do you need to let go, to experience the power of true forgiveness? Who do you need to forgive?

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Adapted from

Original transcript at StoryCorps:

Mary Johnson (MJ): You and I met at Stillwater Prison. I wanted to know if you were in the same mindset of what I remembered from court, where I wanted to go over and hurt you. But you were not that 16-year-old. You were a grown man. I shared with you about my son.

Oshea Israel (OI): And he became human to me. You know, when I met you it was like, ok, this guy, he’s real. And then, when it was time to go, you broke down and started shedding tears. The initial thing to do was just try and hold you up as best I can--just hug you like I would my own mother.

MJ: After you left the room, I began to say: "I just hugged the man that murdered my son." And I instantly knew that all that anger and the animosity, all the stuff I had in my heart for 12 years for you--I knew it was over, that I had totally forgiven you.

OI: As far as receiving forgiveness from you--sometimes I still don't know how to take it because I haven't totally forgiven myself yet. It’s something that I’m learning from you – I won’t say that I have learned yet – because it’s still a process that I’m going through.

MJ: I treat you as I would treat my son. And our relationship is beyond belief. We live next door to one another.

OI: Yeah. So you can see what I'm doing--you know first hand. We actually bump into each other all the time leaving in and out of the house. And, you know, our conversations, they come from "Boy, how come you ain't called over here to check on me in a couple of days? You ain't even asked me if I need my garbage to go out!"

MJ: Uh-huh.

OI: I find those things funny because it's a relationship with a mother for real.

MJ: Well, my natural son is no longer here. I didn't see him graduate. Now you're going to college. I'll have the opportunity to see you graduate. I didn't see him getting married. Hopefully one day, I'll be able to experience that with you.

OI: Just to hear you say those things and to be in my life in the manner that which [sic] you are is my motivation. It motivates me to make sure that I stay on the right path. You still believe in me. And the fact that you can do it despite how much pain I caused you--it's like amazing.

MJ: I know it’s not an easy thing, you know, to be able to share our story together. Even with us sitting here looking at each other right now, I know it’s not an easy thing. So I admire that you can do this.

OI: I love you, lady.

MJ: I love you too, son.

In the British writer-physician A.J. Cronin's autobiography, he describes being a doctor in the North of England when there was an outbreak of diphtheria. A little boy was brought in hardly able to breathe. As the Irish would say, "he had the dip," and in those days that often meant the patient would die. The doctor performed a tracheotomy which allowed the child to breathe, and put him in the care of a young nurse who would watch him through the night hours. The doctor went off to bed.

In the small hours of the morning, a trembling nurse wakened him with the sad news that the little boy was dead. Exhausted herself, the nurse had slipped into sleep only to awaken and discover that the tube was blocked and the child dead. The physician was furious. He raged against the girl. He told her he would see to it that she would never nurse again. She stood before his wrath pitifully small, devastated by what had happened, and in a pathetic voice scarcely audible said, "Give me another chance." He told her he would not, and having dismissed her, went back to bed.

Back in bed, but not to sleep. Her poor face haunted him, and so did her words, "Give me another chance." And the next morning, when he got up, he tore up the letter of condemnation he had written during the night.

Years later, Cronin tells us, he met the young girl, now grown to womanhood, the matron of one of the largest children's hospitals in England and known throughout the country for her commitment to her calling and her nursing skills. Acquittal had granted her "another chance."

There's a story that the lovable German poet (and convert from Judaism) Heinrich Heine, lying on his deathbed in 1856, calmy uttered these final words about God's forgiveness: "He'll forgive me; that's his job."

Heine, one imagines, was making fun of the whole contraption of last-minute bargains; more subtly, he was mocking the idea that we control God, that we know what tricks this little brass effigy we have fabricated in our own image will perform on our behalf.

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James Wood, "Creating God: An anthropologist explores belief as a form of expertise," The New Yorker magazine, November 9, 2020, page 65.

[see also #66365]

The term cancel culture evokes images of screaming undergrads, de-platformed speakers, fired employees, and demanding protesters. However, the cancel culture ethic doesn’t simply exist “out there” in the larger culture; it has infiltrated our homes. Our dinner tables have become personal social media platforms.

Increasingly, this doesn’t merely take the form of political ideology, it is quite simply a fading ability to forgive. In a recent essay at Comment magazine, Pastor Timothy Keller articulated this current feature of our hyper-politicized atmosphere. Not only is there a race for victimhood status and an inability to find any common ground with people across ideological lines, and not only does this make school board meetings and Thanksgiving dinners more awkward (to say the least), but it has turned us into a society without forgiveness. For example, Keller points to the dramatic shift in tone on issues of race relations since the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s, when leaders like Martin Luther King, Jr. emphasized forgiveness and reconciliation.

This stands in stark contrast to the tone of the modern movement for racial justice that frequently erupts into destructive violence and open antipathy toward fellow Americans. Opinion pieces are released in major news outlets that increasingly urge black Americans to stop forgiving white Americans altogether. Think of how this advice contrasts with the behavior of the members of Mother Emanuel Church in Charleston, South Carolina a few years ago. Activists now argue that not only has there been a history of white racism, but that all white people are racist; that even whiteness itself is akin to a plague.

Women’s rights advocates have also soured on forgiveness. Keller cites an opinion piece in the New York Times, in which Danielle Berrin argues against forgiving perpetrators of sexual assault. One commenter distilled her message well: Forgiveness is overrated. In fact forgiveness is not only overrated, the argument goes, but it perpetuates further evils such as sexism, abuse, and oppression.

Keller writes, “... [T]he emphasis on guilt and justice is ever more on the rise and the concept of forgiveness seems, especially to the younger generations, increasingly problematic.” In these observations, Keller joins authors like Gregory Jones, Bradley Campbell, and Jason Manning to conclude that what we’re witnessing is nothing less than the birth of a new honor-shame society.

Increasingly it is victimhood status, not God’s mercy or Christ’s imputation, that is seen as the source of our righteousness. As a result, our culture values fragility over strength, and embellishes a constant good-versus-evil conflict, even over the smallest of issues. From elections to Facebook posts to hygiene practices — almost everything takes on the emotional temperature of a religion. It’s especially true with anything that is or can be related to politics.

Absolution for moral guilt was once secured in church. But today our moral status and our identity hang on our credentials as victims. Being oppressed or mistreated brings moral absolution. And the oppressor is left without even the possibility of forgiveness or restoration. “It’s no wonder,” writes Keller, “that this culture quickly becomes littered with enormous numbers of broken and now irreparable relationships.”

It’s as if there is a race to hold the most grudges and grievances, to be the people most wronged, and therefore the people with the greatest moral authority. But as Christians who have been forgiven much, we should be among the first and especially the quickest to forgive. Instead, too many of us have absorbed the very worst habits of cancel culture — withholding forgiveness ourselves, refusing to extend any dignity or respect to someone who is a political or ideological opponent, and writing others off completely for infractions of any kind.

This is not the Christian way of doing life together. This is not the way of life and birth in Christianity that brought about the best of the modern world. Cultivating habits of forgiveness will not only reorient our priorities to the core truths of the Gospel, but it will also awaken and re-awaken us to the common good.

As figures like Hannah Arendt, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Desmond Tutu have attested, forgiveness of the gravest of evils can end the otherwise perpetual cycle of grievance and revenge. When we let go of wrongs, both perceived and real, we acknowledge the reality of Divine justice. When we surrender these matters into God’s hands, we demonstrate that He is the One who will “square all accounts” in the end, as Keller puts it.

Even more, extending forgiveness tacitly acknowledges that we, too, are in need of forgiveness. The Psalmist put it this way: “If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness.” A world without forgiveness is simply an awful prospect. The only way forward in our increasingly vindictive age is for Christians to offer this very good gift that we’ve received from God as a gift to the larger world. If we don’t, there’s simply no other source for it. And guilt and grievance will consume our culture — and our family gatherings.

Resource

“The Fading of Forgiveness,” Tim Keller, Comment Magazine, May 6, 2021, https://www.cardus.ca/comment/article/the-fading-of-forgiveness. [See HolwickID #66411]

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Copyright (c) 2021 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

Forgiveness isn’t about the virtue of the other person’s actions. It’s about our response to that action.

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In March 2022, online magazine Vox ran a series of stories under the title “America’s Struggle for Forgiveness.” That’s not a typical topic for a thoroughly secular outlet like Vox, but, then again, Christians should be talking about forgiveness more than they are too.

“The state of modern outrage is a cycle,” writes contributor Aja Romano

“We wake up mad, we go to bed mad, and in between, the only thing that might change is what’s making us angry. The one gesture that could offer substantive change, or at least provide a way forward — forgiveness — seems perpetually beyond our reach.”

Each contributor to the Vox series was a committed progressive, and it showed when they discussed whom they considered most in need of forgiveness. Romano, for example, questioned how to forgive J.K. Rowling, for her repeated defenses of biological women against erasure. In even suggesting that what Rowling has done was so egregious, Vox only proved that the fantasy writer has a firmer grasp on reality than they do.

Still, Vox asked a question that is on point. What is the place of forgiveness in modern society? Consider, for example, how quickly celebrities are cancelled, for reasons ranging from the trivial to the serious. Ellen DeGeneres created a toxic workplace environment. Aaron Rodgers didn’t get vaccinated. Johnny Depp and Amber Heard engaged in domestic abuse. And, the jury is still out on Will Smith’s future.

The point here isn’t to equivocate every public fall from grace since, obviously, some are more deserved than others. What is missing in contemporary debate is any way forward. What’s missing in our culture is forgiveness.

After all, forgiveness doesn’t ask whether condemnation is deserved. It assumes it is. Forgiveness isn’t about the virtue of the other person’s actions. It’s about our response to that action.

In the Vox article, Romano quotes Elizabeth Bruenig, a writer at The Atlantic, who put it this way:

As a society we have absolutely no coherent story — none whatsoever — about how a person who’s done wrong can atone, make amends, and retain some continuity between their life/identity before and after the mistake.

She’s right, but clearly, we need something. Romano concludes her essay with a suggestion:

“Grace, the act of allowing people room to be human and make mistakes while still loving them and valuing them, might be the holiest, most precious concept of all in this conversation about right and wrong, penance and reform — but it’s the one that almost never gets discussed.”

Powerful words. It’s always fascinating when a culture has exhausted all the resources a secular worldview can offer, only to discover that Christianity always had the best option on the market.

Christianity offers the perspective on forgiveness that so many are desperate for. Because we’ve been forgiven, we can forgive others. Because we’ve been loved, even when unlovable, we can love even the unlovable.

But let’s be clear. There is no grace without God. Nobody likes thinking of the ways they have failed, and we avoid it at all costs. With God comes a moral law that we are responsible to. It may be that our world is short on forgiveness precisely because it has rejected God and His moral law.

That also will make it more difficult to extend forgiveness to others. In the words of C.S. Lewis, “Everyone thinks forgiveness is a lovely idea, until they have something to forgive.” In a fallen world, we are quick to forgive people we like ... for things we don’t see as particularly serious. But what if the wrong was serious? What if the person isn’t on my team? In those moments, only a transcendent perspective makes forgiveness a live option.

Like Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.” That’s every one of us. That’s why He later said so strongly, as recorded in Matthew’s Gospel: “For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

All of which makes me think, again, about Chuck Colson, whose unexpected redemption during Watergate led to an amazing amount of forgiveness between him and his political enemies. He was forgiven much by God, and by those who had been forgiven much by God, so he also extended forgiveness to others. In the end, that perspective grounded his whole understanding of criminal justice reform.

If the world indeed is looking for forgiveness, then once again, only Christians have what the world is looking for.

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Copyright (c) 2022 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

I enjoy hiking. It brings together some of my favorite things: family, nature, and exercise. I cherish the moments of discovery on the trail when my children are surprised by spectacular views. I love how the quiet of a nature hike declares God’s glory. I look forward to the physical challenge of a trek.

But not every hike is suited for my family. Some trails are too technical, some too long, while others are too simple or short. I’ve also found we need a variety of vistas. We need mountains and lakes, coastlines and canyons, waterfalls and woods. Simply put, the process of selecting a trail is both an art and a science.

Pastor, your preaching calendar is like selecting a trail, leading you to be sensitive to the needs of your congregation while providing a panoramic view of the entire counsel of God (Acts 20:27). With that in mind, I want to give you two reasons for leading your congregation down Philemon’s path:

It’s a short New Testament trail

Your church needs variety in biblical themes and genre. Just like my family enjoys hiking a variety of landscapes, your people need the whole counsel of God. Evaluate your past, present, and future preaching calendars to determine if you are providing this.

Have you been in a lengthy book for countless weeks? Have you tackled a series of long books? If so, the brevity of Philemon will be refreshing to your congregation. It’s a short trail with some spectacular views. Maybe you’ve been preaching a series of narrative, prophetic, law, or wisdom passages. If so, Philemon could be a great fit for your congregation. It’s a Gospel-centered, relationship-driven epistle.

It’s a master path in forgiveness

If your church is anything like mine, you know relationships can get messy. Bitterness. Envy. Division. Hurt. You name it. The book of Philemon insists mercy and grace should ground our relationships.

Here’s the setting: Philemon is a wealthy, slave-owning Christian. He’s a leader in the church at Colossae who opens his home for a group of believers to gather. Onesimus is Philemon’s runaway slave who wronged his master (Philemon 18). By God’s providential hand, Onesimus crosses Paul’s path in prison. While there, Paul leads him to salvation. “I appeal to you for my child, Onesimus, whose father I became in my imprisonment” (Philemon 10).

Onesimus is not Paul’s natural son. He’s a son by faith in Christ. Paul was the means God used to bring Onesimus into the family of God. In this short letter Philemon is the offended brother. By all legal rights, he could punish Onesimus. Yet Paul appeals to him to freely forgive Onesimus.

“Accordingly, though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do what is required, yet for love’s sake I prefer to appeal to you — I, Paul, an old man and now a prisoner also for Christ Jesus ... So if you consider me your partner [Philemon], receive him [Onesimus] as you would receive me” (Philemon 8-9, 17).

Preach Philemon, because your people need this beautiful model of forgiveness. Forgiveness is costly. It would cost Philemon and it will cost your congregation. But it also holds untold power for healing and ministry. This is why Paul identified Onesimus as useful to Philemon (Philemon 11) only after his conversion. Together, Philemon and Onesimus could serve as brothers in the work of Gospel ministry.

At my church, we tackled the book of Philemon in three weeks. I had just finished a lengthy series through the book of Colossians and honestly, I was weary. I took this small letter as a chance to rest and share the pulpit with three qualified and competent men from my congregation. It was an opportunity to teach my congregation to rely on God’s Word, to equip future pastors, and to rest. During those three weeks, I was a joyful member taking in the surprising views from this much-needed hike.

Your church needs this epistle because forgiveness and reconciliation are at the very heart of the Gospel message. Plus, if for nothing else, Onesimus is fun to say!

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Josh Fields is pastor of First Baptist Church of Iowa Park, Texas.