Category: Forgiveness

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What King David and Philemon have in Common

A friend of mine started a church in Canada years ago that God blessed with many conversions. It became over 500 hundred attenders that were mostly new believers. Laura and I were able to do two marriage conferences there over the years, and it was so encouraging to see how teachable and hungry the people were. Often what we taught was the first time they had ever heard it, and they just assumed that if the Bible says that, they need to obey it. It was so much fun.

This same pastor friend said that one time they started a small group for men struggling with pornography. Again, lots of new believers who don’t know how church is done. They don’t know they are supposed to pretend they don’t struggle with lust. The church announced it and put a sign up on the church bulletin board and MEN SIGNED UP! I cannot imagine that happening in the churches I’ve known. Most Christians are way too private about their spiritual lives, and especially their spiritual failures. Would men sign up at your church where others could see their names?

I’ve been thinking about two passages in the Bible that seem to have a commonality that I never noticed before. Psalm 51 is a familiar psalm that we recognize as David’s song of repentance after his sin with Bathsheba. I’ve read it many times for my own soul’s benefit, and I’ve pointed others to it to encourage repentance.

But recently I thought about it as an example of David’s transparency about a major failure. The superscription says David wrote it after Nathan came to him after he had gone in to Bathsheba. The superscription is not subtle—it doesn’t say that David wrote this after some general failure in his life, but it specifically tells us and anyone who has read it over the years that it was David’s sin with Bathsheba—his adultery and murder.

That is incredibly transparent. We don’t like to admit our failures in specific, and David does here. Think about this: David intended this to be sung about his sin. He didn’t just admit it to a few trusted friends. He wrote a song about it. Why was King David so honest in his confession? Well he was clearly more concerned with repentance than covering up. It’s one reason we know his repentance was genuine.

The second passage was in Philemon where Paul appeals on behalf of the converted slave, Onesimus. In verse 2 Paul says that this letter was also written to Aphia, who was probably Philemon’s wife, and Archippus. Now who is Archippus? He most likely was a church leader either at Colosse or Laodicea.

See what Paul has done? He knew how Philemon should respond to his runaway slave, Onesimus, now that Onesimus is saved and growing. He wanted Philemon to forgive Onesimus. He even claims that he could have commanded Philemon to do this, but he wanted Philemon to do it on his own, not from compulsion (verses 8-9).

But Paul does apply some good pressure on Philemon to choose forgiveness, and one way he does that is by including Archippus as a recipient of the letter. Archippus would know how Paul appealed to Philemon. So this decision wasn’t just between Paul, Philemon, and even Onesimus (who probably brought the letter), but also included Archippus.

Philemon might have liked to consider this by himself, but Paul doesn’t allow that.

The connection between these two passages is transparency. David chose to be honest and open about his sin—can’t get much more open than writing a song about it. And Philemon was forced to be open and honest about his need to forgive Onesimus.

Your spiritual life is not yours alone. The entire church is invested. You should welcome opportunities to be honest about your struggles with sin. That encourages and edifies others and it leads you to humility—always a needed virtue (Jam 4:6). And you should welcome the intrusion of other believers who help you see your sin and plead with you to change. Just-Jesus-and-you Christianity is not biblical Christianity.

I want my church to be full of people that are not hiding their sin. I want them to be so secure in their identity in Christ that they don’t care what others know about them. And I want my church to be full of Christians that are willing, like Paul, to encourage each other to please God. And if I’m going to have a church like that, I need model that in my relationships. A step towards honesty and transparency feels risky, but it is a good step—just look at King David and Philemon.

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Easy Christlikeness

Some Christians think that because they love those that like them, they are being Christlike. And probably they are. In fact, some Christians outside of Christ would be unkind even to those that like them—they would give evil for good. They are rascals. I was one of those rascals before Christ. That is a change that the gospel makes in us.

But that’s the low hanging fruit of sanctification. Jesus said that even unbelievers love those that love them (Luke 6:32). It’s not that hard.

It’s much more difficult to be Christlike with those that dislike us.

Once I saw a social media post where some friends in a ministry I love were slandered quite unjustly. I knew all the players on both sides of the issue. I’m unfortunately thoroughly up to speed on the attacker (and those that commented approvingly) and on those being attacked.

My response? To think angry thoughts towards the poster. And it was easy for me to excuse. I justified it because of their sinful life.  

But how quickly my thoughts turn to anger rather than love. How quickly I become defensive of the people I love (or myself) with nary a thought of praying for the attacker. In these situations the Spirit has used Romans 12 to convict me many times.

Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” To the contrary, “if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. Rom 12:17–21 (ESV)

This is one reason I know I am far, far from becoming like Christ. I find it very difficult to repay good for evil. I don’t have it in me to love my enemies, but Jesus said that is what I must do.

“But I say to you who hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. Luke 6:27–28 (NASB95)

The next verse tells me to turn the other cheek when someone strikes me and to give him my shirt after he stole my coat. If I cannot pray for those that mistreat me, I won’t ever give away my shirt.

You cannot minister long and well without some that you have tried to help turning on you unjustly. The Apostle Paul had both Demas and Alexander the Coppersmith, John the Apostle had Diotrephes who unjustly accused him, and Jesus had Judas. You and I will not fare any better than they did if we are faithful in ministry.

So… The Spirit brings me to my knees for confession and repentance. I need Christ to change me. Loving enemies is not natural to me. It is not easy to be Christlike. If it were easy, then I really wouldn’t need Christ, would I?

You will have a Diotrephes someday if you don’t have one right now. Will you overcome evil with good? Will your Diotrephes prove how much you still need Christ to change you?

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When My Sin Is the Worst…

One of my goals in 2022 is to review my devotional journal from 10 years ago so I’m reminded of God’s sanctifying work in my life. I came across this today…

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Last night I was reminded of God’s grace again. I sinned against my wife and son, and God graciously forgave me. Because of my sin against my wife, I made a poor decision with my son. My sin against his mother affected him. I was wrong. God’s grace is all over my life. I have a son that I don’t deserve. He obeyed me when it was extraordinarily difficult to do so. He’s a much better son to me than I ever was to my father. In part I know God’s grace because of my son. I don’t deserve a son like him.

When my sin embarrasses me, I grow in humility—even if only temporarily. And it embarrasses me now to think about last night. The Gospel is precious because it’s not by works that I’m saved. When my sin embarrasses me, I’m especially sensitive to the message of the Gospel. God’s grace becomes a rich treasure and my only hope. When my sin is the worst, the Gospel is so much more precious.

Thank You Father for Your saving and sanctifying grace.

This is how the gospel becomes more precious to us—as we see our sin with more clarity and accuracy we realize how blessed we are that God would save us. Knowing our sin is an unusual blessing; it helps humble us, and humility draws us closer to God. 

Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Be wretched and mourn and weep. Let your laughter be turned to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt you. James 4:8-10 (ESV)

In Luke 6:36-50 right after a woman who was a great sinner washed Jesus’ feet with her tears, Jesus told the parable of the two debtors to Simon, the self-righteous Pharisee who was his host. One debtor owed a lot and his debt was cancelled; one owed a little and also had his debt cancelled. So Jesus asks Simon,

Now which of them will love him more?” Simon answered, “The one, I suppose, for whom he cancelled the larger debt.” And he said to him, “You have judged rightly.” Luke 7:42b–43 (ESV)

I don’t appreciate the gospel when I don’t think I’m a very big sinner. When I have more in common with Simon the Pharisee’s self-righteousness than the immoral woman’s sorrow and repentance, the gospel won’t be that precious.

So, today, are you amazed by God’s grace? If not, could it be that you don’t think sin is that significant in your life? When your sin is the worst, the Gospel is so much more precious.

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The New Puritans Don’t Do Forgiveness

In an interesting article in The Atlantic, Anne Applebaum decries modern cancel culture, pointing out that some feel trapped in a world of unforgiveness. Who’s trapped?

  • An editor of the New York Review of Books that “was not accused of assault, just of printing an article by someone who was—Ian Buruma discovered that several of the magazines where he had been writing for three decades would not publish him any longer.” 
  • Daniel Elder, a prizewinning composer (and a political liberal) posted a statement on Instagram condemning arson in his hometown of Nashville, where Black Lives Matter protesters had set the courthouse on fire after the killing of George Floyd, he discovered that his publisher would not print his music and choirs would not sing it.
  • Alexi McCammond was named editor in chief of Teen Vogue, and then people discovered and recirculated on Instagram old anti-Asian and homophobic tweets she had written a decade earlier, while still a teenager. McCammond apologized, of course, but that wasn’t enough, and she was compelled to quit the job before starting.
  • One former journalist told Applebaum that his ex-colleagues “don’t want to endorse the process of mistake/apology/ understanding/forgiveness—they don’t want to forgive.” Instead, he said, they want “to punish and purify.” But the knowledge that whatever you say will never be enough is debilitating. “If you make an apology and you know in advance that your apology will not be accepted—that it is going to be considered a move in a psychological or cultural or political game—then the integrity of your introspection is being mocked and you feel permanently marooned in a world of unforgivingness… And that is a truly unethical world.”[1]Anne Applebaum, “The New Puritans,” The Atlantic, August 31, 2021, https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2021/10/new-puritans-mob-justice-canceled/619818/.

Applebaum calls the self-righteous mob the New Puritans, and they are professional shunners. When “sinners” offer the apologies demanded, they know they won’t be accepted. They truly are trapped in a world of unforgiveness.

Unbelievers talk about forgiveness, but mostly just to say that something or someone cannot be forgiven. Cancel culture is just the latest example of unforgiveness, but we have been an unforgiving people from the beginning. Outside of Christ changing us, how could anyone forgive a debt—and that’s what forgiveness is. An offender has a debt that only the offended can write off. How can anyone do that? Only believers can, and only believers that recognize they have sinned greatly against the King and inexplicably been shown mercy (Mt 18:23-35).

So the servant fell on his knees, imploring him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ 27 And out of pity for him, the master of that servant released him and forgave him the debt. Matthew 18:26–27 (ESV)

If you don’t understand and appreciate the gospel, you will never be a forgiving person. We who have been so generously forgiven, must generously grant forgiveness.

Forgiveness is an exclusively Christian virtue. I’ve seen marriages invaded by adultery fully restored. Not left in an uneasy truce, not left weakened and ill, but completely reconciled and whole. I’ve seen daily verbal assaults and general selfishness of a spouse forgiven. A marriage that should have so much distance after years and years of sin has become a glorious example of Christ’s love for the Church. I’ve seen siblings reconciled after incredible hurt has been done. Again, I’m not describing holding the offender at arm’s length after proclaiming forgiveness. I’m describing real reconciliation. Can your religion—or irreligion—do that? I don’t think so.

Have you ever thought about whom[2]Meaning, which person? All of our sin is ultimately against God, Ps 51:4 you’ve sinned against most in your life? For me, it’s easy. I’ve been married 29 years, and while I’ve sinned against my parents, my siblings, and my own children, I’ve sinned most against my wife, and it’s not even close. Yet she is the one person I am closest to in this world. We are best friends. How? God has forgiven her, and therefore she regularly (often daily) forgives me. That’s the only explanation. So many marriages eventually crumble under the cumulative weight of each other’s undealt with, unforgiven sin. Why is ours stronger than it was before I started sinning against her almost three decades ago? There is only one answer—Christ-honoring, God-glorifying, Gospel-motivated forgiveness.

Real, genuine, biblical forgiveness is amazing. The world has nothing like it. They have no way of healing broken relationships. They continue to harbor bitterness. Only God could come up with forgiveness. The New Puritans don’t do forgiveness. They don’t do grace. They don’t do mercy. Aren’t you glad that God does all three, and because he does, we can as well?

References

References
↑1 Anne Applebaum, “The New Puritans,” The Atlantic, August 31, 2021, https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2021/10/new-puritans-mob-justice-canceled/619818/.
↑2 Meaning, which person? All of our sin is ultimately against God, Ps 51:4
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“I Forgive You, but I Need to Establish Some Boundaries”

I’m teaching on forgiveness in a class full of freshmen, and it brings up interesting questions. For example, I was asked do we ever set boundaries with a person that we’ve forgiven? I think by that they meant that a person had sinned against them, they had forgiven the offender, but they didn’t trust them anymore. So are they justified in resisting restoring the relationship to it’s “pre-offense” status? Is it okay to put up some boundaries with this person?

One caveat for my answer is I will assume the offense is not a form of abuse. Abusive behavior has different dynamics—your greatest concern in that case is protecting the victim.

So with that caveat, I have two concerns with the question.

Boundaries Might Just Be an Acceptable Excuse to Avoid Actually Forgiving

Forgiveness is a step on the path to reconciliation. With many offenses, it’s equivalent to reconciliation. I’ve sinned against my wife hundreds of times, and her forgiveness has always reconciled us.

But what if you actually want to hold on to the hurt? In that case might you claim that you have forgiven them, but you need to set some boundaries? Those boundaries, coincidentally, will prevent you from fully reconciling. They will punish the offender for sinning against you. Remember that forgiveness is a promise not to bring it up to someone’s face, not to bring it up behind their back, and not to dwell on it. If you’re dwelling on it, you haven’t actually forgiven the offender. If you’re bringing it up to their face through an unnecessary use of boundaries, you also haven’t forgiven them. Really, you haven’t.

In fact, the use of boundaries can be a “spiritual” method to exact some revenge. And you and I don’t have the option of vengeance.

If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. 19 Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” Romans 12:18–19 (ESV)

So boundaries cannot be an excuse not to forgive the offender. You cannot claim you’ve forgiven him, but then refuse to work towards reconciliation; you cannot write them out of your life. Boundaries distance us from the offender. They don’t reconcile two people; they keep them apart. Is that what forgiveness should look like?

Or is your heart possibly deceiving you into thinking you forgave them, when you didn’t? You want to keep holding this sin against them.  

Boundaries Might Be the Idolatry of Self-Protection

Sin hurts. Sometimes it’s hurtful because of the surprise of who did it. Sometimes it’s hurtful because of the betrayal. In those situations and others we can become very self-protective. “They’ve blown it. I forgive them, but I won’t trust them again.” I understand that impulse, but we cannot worship the idol of never being sinned against that way again.

Pay attention to yourselves! If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him, 4 and if he sins against you seven times in the day, and turns to you seven times, saying, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive him.” Luke 17:3–4 (ESV)

Do you think that maybe on the third time in the same day a person might think, “I should set some boundaries so they don’t sin against me again”? But that’s not what Jesus says to do. He says forgive them and forgiveness is inherently risky. It means they might sin against you again. In fact, they might sin against you seven times in a day.

You cannot make not being sinned against an idol you worship. That type of self-protection could be a form of pride. “Nobody should ever sin against me that way.” Why? Are you so important?

It’s possible that the offender might sin against you again in a very similar way. If so, you confront them again, and if they repent, you forgive them. It’s not about protecting yourself from hurt. It’s not even about what’s best for the offender. It’s about glorifying God by being a generous forgiver (Eph 4:32).

We who have been forgiven so much cannot look for reasons not to forgive. The gospel demands more than that. Jesus forgave us much; we–by his grace–can do the same.