Wendell Berry tells a short story, entitled: "Pray
Without Ceasing," of two friends who lived in a small community in Kentucky
Berry
"God's love is terrible, in a way. Think of all it includes." I have often been asked, "Could God not have forgiven people without going through the pain and the violence of the Cross?" As nice as that sounds, reality forces me to ask: When is forgiveness not painful? True forgiveness cannot occur unless the hurt is acknowledged and called for what it is. Truthfully, when I look a wrong full in the face but choose to accept the hurt instead of returning it on the one who did it, that has always been painful.
Jesus illustrates forgiveness by telling the story of a servant who owes his master more money than he could possibly repay (See Matthew 18:21-35). The master originally threatens to sell the servant's family and possessions to get some return for the debt, but when the servant begs for mercy, the master is gracious and forgives the debt. Yet the same servant not only refuses to forgive the debt of his fellow servant, but also has him thrown in prison as punishment.
Sometimes I have treated forgiveness and justice as though they are mutually exclusive. If I chose the way of justice, I thought the options to be reparations or retribution—either the guilty person makes up for a wrong or is punished for it. These are the only options the servant offered his debtor. Since the second servant could I am included in and redeemed by the deep and wide love of God. Paul is astonished by this realinot repay, he was then punished. However, the master chose the way of mercy when he forgave the debt, neither requiring reparation nor inflicting retribution. If God has really forgiven me like the master forgave the servant, I ask, then why all the pain and death of the Cross? Does the Cross undermine God's mercy? Is it merely an underhanded way for God to force repayment from humanity or exact punishment on me?
In asking these questions, don't I betray a misunderstanding of both justice and forgiveness. Justice can never be achieved by reparation or retribution alone because like the servants' debts, true wrongs can never be repaid. The hurt and pain caused are not reversible. Punishing the guilty person does not undo the hurt either, even if it brings brief satisfaction to the victim, just as the first servant did not get his money back simply because the other man was in jail. I'm finding that justice must be about much more than balancing out the wrongs of the world. It must be about making things right, about the kind of restoration that does not reverse the pain, but moves beyond it toward something new.
And just as wrongs cannot be erased by punishment or repayment, they cannot really be erased by simple forgiveness either. When the master forgives the servant's debt, the debt does not simply disappear. The master takes the loss! He accepts the full brunt of the debt himself. Similarly, when I forgive, I must accept the full brunt of the hurt or injustice rather than returning it on the one who caused it. Although it is painful, this is the way that healing and restoration begin. This is why there is no way to avoid the bloody Cross. And this is why God's love is terrible. This includes: me, with my best and my worst, with my failed attempts and outright cruelty, with my wrong motives for right actions and my right motives for wrong actions... with the mess I have made of my world, with my brokenness and despair, with my rebellions and inadequacies.
Instead of demanding that I pay what I cannot, instead of punishing me for not paying what I cannot, the God I see in Jesus Christ accepts the loss himself and opens his arms even to those who would murder him. The Cross does not represent God's mercy being tamed by his anger; rather, it demonstrates that God's mercy is much bigger than what I could ever imagine. The Cross is a graphic picture of God's terrible love. I cannot fathom all that it includes.
"God's love is terrible, in a way. Think of all it includes." I have often been asked, "Could God not have forgiven people without going through the pain and the violence of the Cross?" As nice as that sounds, reality forces me to ask: When is forgiveness not painful? True forgiveness cannot occur unless the hurt is acknowledged and called for what it is. Truthfully, when I look a wrong full in the face but choose to accept the hurt instead of returning it on the one who did it, that has always been painful.
Jesus illustrates forgiveness by telling the story of a servant who owes his master more money than he could possibly repay (See Matthew 18:21-35). The master originally threatens to sell the servant's family and possessions to get some return for the debt, but when the servant begs for mercy, the master is gracious and forgives the debt. Yet the same servant not only refuses to forgive the debt of his fellow servant, but also has him thrown in prison as punishment.
Sometimes I have treated forgiveness and justice as though they are mutually exclusive. If I chose the way of justice, I thought the options to be reparations or retribution—either the guilty person makes up for a wrong or is punished for it. These are the only options the servant offered his debtor. Since the second servant could I am included in and redeemed by the deep and wide love of God. Paul is astonished by this realinot repay, he was then punished. However, the master chose the way of mercy when he forgave the debt, neither requiring reparation nor inflicting retribution. If God has really forgiven me like the master forgave the servant, I ask, then why all the pain and death of the Cross? Does the Cross undermine God's mercy? Is it merely an underhanded way for God to force repayment from humanity or exact punishment on me?
In asking these questions, don't I betray a misunderstanding of both justice and forgiveness. Justice can never be achieved by reparation or retribution alone because like the servants' debts, true wrongs can never be repaid. The hurt and pain caused are not reversible. Punishing the guilty person does not undo the hurt either, even if it brings brief satisfaction to the victim, just as the first servant did not get his money back simply because the other man was in jail. I'm finding that justice must be about much more than balancing out the wrongs of the world. It must be about making things right, about the kind of restoration that does not reverse the pain, but moves beyond it toward something new.
And just as wrongs cannot be erased by punishment or repayment, they cannot really be erased by simple forgiveness either. When the master forgives the servant's debt, the debt does not simply disappear. The master takes the loss! He accepts the full brunt of the debt himself. Similarly, when I forgive, I must accept the full brunt of the hurt or injustice rather than returning it on the one who caused it. Although it is painful, this is the way that healing and restoration begin. This is why there is no way to avoid the bloody Cross. And this is why God's love is terrible. This includes: me, with my best and my worst, with my failed attempts and outright cruelty, with my wrong motives for right actions and my right motives for wrong actions... with the mess I have made of my world, with my brokenness and despair, with my rebellions and inadequacies.
Instead of demanding that I pay what I cannot, instead of punishing me for not paying what I cannot, the God I see in Jesus Christ accepts the loss himself and opens his arms even to those who would murder him. The Cross does not represent God's mercy being tamed by his anger; rather, it demonstrates that God's mercy is much bigger than what I could ever imagine. The Cross is a graphic picture of God's terrible love. I cannot fathom all that it includes.
