When was the last time you stopped and pondered the concept of forgiveness? I mean, when you reflected deeply on what it means to completely forgive someone, to be truly forgiven?
Unfortunately, there are some words and phrases that we Christians have rehearsed, prayed, spoken, and believed for so long that we may find they’ve lost the gloss and shine of our initial encounter.
I was struck by this one, forgiveness, on a sunny October morning as I read through Tim Challies’ latest book, Pilgrim Prayers. It’s a small collection of poems, mostly from the 1800s, designed to enhance a time of quiet reflection. The somewhat antiquated phrasing takes the reader into deep and fresh petitions of the heart not often heard today.
The day’s reading featured a poem by Mary B. Sleight, a passionate plea for God to help her forgive others as He had forgiven her. I settled on the deck in the warm sun and read the words slowly and thoughtfully. And I won’t lie, my eyes began to grow heavy.
Yet as they drifted closed, I began to wonder, When was the last time I had to forgive someone? Not just for a harsh word or for a mistake, but for something that caused excruciating pain? I don’t know that I ever have.
Could I, though?
Could I forgive a sex trafficker who had sold my daughter? Could I forgive a drunk driver or a gang-banger who had killed my son? Could I forgive someone who hacked into our accounts and stole all our financial “security," or hijacked our car and threatened my husband’s life in front of me?
I imagined multiple grievous scenarios, sins that have plagued the world throughout millennia: lies, idolatry, murder, blasphemy, gossip, rape, persecution, terrorism, pederasty, genocide, abortion, and mass shootings and I wondered, if I were judge, would forgiveness even be a blip on the radar of my vocabulary?
Probably not.
Therefore, as I envisioned the billions of people who have lived and breathed and walked the earth—none without sin, no, not one—I was stunned to see myself among them, amazed anew at the depth of God’s forgiveness, the generosity of Christ’s sacrifice.
That God himself, pure and holy, was willing to say to each one, “I forgive you”; that Jesus Christ gave His life as an extended hand of that mercy, handing a blanket of snowy white to each delinquent, knowing not all would reach for it, receive it, or even hear His words.
That Christ would look over a sea of sinful hearts—a chasm of heinous crimes stemming solely from the desire to be one’s own god—and ask His Father for forgiveness on our behalf is breathtaking, astounding.
Christ knows the depth of depravity that lives inside of us. He dwelt in it, yet never sinned, for 33 years. He willingly took on the pain of the sinner and those sinned against, aware of the cost our healing would entail. And He was still willing to cleanse, to purify, to make righteous. To reconcile us with His Father.
I could never do it.
It is scandalous, unfair, abominable, unimaginable, that a sinner could just be free, that forgiveness could just be sprinkled like fairy dust, or blood.
How could He? Why would He?
Because He so loved.
If I am candid, I do not "so love." And that makes me no better than the sinners I imagine myself struggling to forgive.
Though free for them, for you, for me, forgiveness was anything but free.
Someone had to pay that cost, but it never could be me—
Too full of my own impurity, I could never forgive to this immense degree.
But Jesus can, and He did, and He does.
And for those who believe, it’s still free.
Be pitiful, O blessed Christ,
Nor chide me for my bitter thought
Of those who rendered hate for love,
And mocked me for the gifts I brought,
For Thou, alone, dear Lord, dost know
Flow measureless the debt I owe.
Forgive me, Lord. Can theirs exceed
The endless debt I owe to Thee?
Thy patient, unrequited love,
Thy mercy, boundless as the sea,
Thy life blood, poured in healing balm
From wounded side and nail-pierced palm.
-Mary B. Sleight, “The Test”
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