And forgive her? No way. I vowed to keep my anger alive, rehearsing the wrong over and over in my mind until it simmered like soup in a crock pot. Occasionally I’d crack the lid, and burning steam would leak out, injuring me and everyone nearby. To forgive would be to deny the offense had happened and negate my right to be offended.
Many years have passed since that turbulent time, and I’ve learned much about anger and forgiveness. I’ve been the one who was wronged, and I’ve wronged others.
One night recently I had the pleasure of tucking my granddaughters into bed and telling them a Bible story. I chose the most dramatic one I could think of – the story of Jonah. When my telling was complete, probably as a tactic to delay bedtime just a little longer, five year old Lauren offered to tell me a Bible story.
“Once upon a time . . .” she said. ”No, I can’t say ‘once upon a time,’ because this is a real story . . . .” She looked to me for help.
“How about ‘One day . . . ‘?” I suggested.
“Yes,” she nodded. “One day, some bad men arrested Jesus. They took a crown made of HUGE thorns and smashed it on his head until he bleeded. And then they beat him . . . even though he never did anything wrong.”
“Yeah,” her three year old sister chimed in, “Jesus never did anything wrong.”
“And he died,” Lauren continued. “They put him in a cave . . .” she paused, searching for the unfamiliar word “. . . a tomb. But THEN, on Eachter Sunday, he came alive again!”
I thanked her for her story, kissed them goodnight, and turned out the light. They were asleep in an instant, but I stayed awake for hours pondering their words.
“Jesus never did anything wrong.”
The knowledge that I’d often sinned against others was what finally led me to forgive my friend those many years ago. I’d let them down. Betrayed their trust. Broken my promises. An awareness of my own sinfulness allowed me to extend grace and forgiveness to her. I certainly couldn’t hold her to a standard I hadn’t kept myself.
But Jesus.
Jesus, who never did anything wrong, whose only crime was loving a messed up, sinful world, has every right to hold our sins against us.
Yet he forgives. And forgives. And forgives.
“Only acknowledge your iniquity . . .”
All God requires to extend forgiveness to his children is a simple, repentant confession. He’s justified in holding our sins against us, yet he doesn’t. If we’ve come to him once for salvation, Jesus’ death on the cross has already paid the penalty for our wrongs – once and for all. Now when we sin, all he requires to restore our fellowship with him is simple confession and repentance.
“Just say you’re sorry,” he says. “I can’t wait to forgive you.”
Unlike my adolescent self who vowed never to forgive, Jesus wipes our slates clean immediately.
What a gift.
If you’ve ever lived under the tyranny of unforgiveness, either in your own heart or in someone else’s, revel in this truth for a moment. God, who has every right to hold our sins against us, doesn’t.
“I’m sorry, Lord.”
“I forgive you.”
It’s that simple.
Think on this today.
Now it's your turn. Is there something you need to ask God to forgive you for? Don't wait another minute. Talk to him right now and experience the glorious freedom that comes from being forgiven.
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