Forgiveness Labyrinth
Exccerpt from upcoming book project
“The Forgiveness Labyrinth”
by Bill Senyard with Colleen Pepper
Introduction
“Surely the Maker of Whales made me for a purpose.”
[Thinks a whale enjoying its ‘being at oneness with the universe’]
Just then the harpoon slammed into his side
Tearing a hole in it as wide as the sky.
(Irving Layton)
This book is for people who have tried to forgive–and failed. Perhaps once, perhaps many times. Try as they might, they haven’t been able to get rid of the pain, anger, bitterness and resentment they feel. They struggle and struggle and struggle, but nothing seems to work.
I think about Courtney. I don’t know her very well. In fact, I barely know her at all. I met her after a talk I gave recently on the relationship between justice and mercy.
An active volunteer with her church, Courtney was devastated when she found out her husband had been cheating on her. The sense of betrayal was immense; the pain beyond anything she could have previously imagined. When the marriage eventually dissolved, she hoped time would heal her wounds. When it didn’t, she decided to see a Christian counselor to help process the raging swirl of emotions.
“Forgiveness is an act of the will,” the counselor told her. “In Christ, you must choose to give up the right to justice—for the sake of love of other.”
Every pastor and counselor she saw seemed to say something similar. How should you respond when someone has taken something from you, diminished you, or robbed you? With love, they said. Seeing how much grace and mercy God has extended to you, you need to be gracious and merciful to others. You need to “surrender the right to get even.” You must “decide to forgive”, “empathize with the perpetrator”, “cancel your expectations”, “give up your anger” and give the perpetrator the “altruistic gift of forgiveness.” Or in the words of the old Nike slogan, you “just do it.”
Sadly, what sounded godly on the surface turned out to be hell in practice. Courtney tried forgiving her ex-husband as an act of obedience. She tried giving up right to anger and pretending the events never happened. She cried long tearful prayers and uttered long rambling pleas. She begged God to change her heart. But no matter what she did, she found no resolution. In fact, truth be known, she felt even more diminished and depressed by the experience. Now not only did she feel like a failure as a wife, but she was a failure as a Christian as well. After all, good Christians forgive. They turn the other cheek. And they don’t just do it once or even a few times. They do it over and over again—up to 70 times seven, if need be.
What was wrong with her that she couldn’t change? Did she lack faith? Did she lack character? Was there some kind of magic key, some critical step she’d missed? Was there another book to be read, a conference to be attended, or good work to done that would finally complete the puzzle?
Finally, exhausted physically, mentally and spiritually, she gave up. She stopped going to counseling and determined to get on with life as best she could, whatever that might mean.
“I couldn’t go back there,” she explained. “What was the point?” Although Courtney’s counselors were extremely skilled at helping identify the nature and extent of her wounds, they seemed powerless to help her find healing. So why bother, she reasoned. To go back would simply mean opening herself up to even more pain—and frankly, she just couldn’t take any more. Reliving more hurts week after week—with no resolution–was just too much…
Unfortunately, Courtney’s story is a familiar one. A recent study of 16 Christian models of forgiveness found the responsibility to forgive was almost always the victim’s. Forgiveness, agree the experts, is a progression of healing where people are confronted with the grace and mercy of God despite their continual failure to deserve it. They learn to proffer the same grace and mercy to others in full awareness of their own fallibility.
But is that really what God intended? Does forgiveness really mean abandoning your right to justice? Does it mean ignoring the cries of your heart and stuffing your real emotions?
I don’t think it does. In fact, when we think of forgiveness this way, I believe we act out of a tragic misunderstanding of God, his nature and his character.
The truth is none of us were created to be able to “surrender the right to get even.” It’s not in us. You can keep on trying to pull a rabbit out of the hat—but there is no rabbit there. You and I were made in the image of our creator—and God never, ever “surrenders the right to get even.” He never “releases the person from the debt that is owed.”
Rather, God, the Great Celestial Judge, requires absolute payment for all crimes—every last one. When Moses asked God, “What is your name?” God answered,
“The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished….” (Exodus 34:6-7).
In Ecclesiastes 12:14 we read,
“For God will bring every deed into judgment, including ever hidden thing, whether it is good or evil.” Galatians 6:7 repeats this theme: “Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows.”
Whoever God is, one thing is sure: He abounds in love and justice. In our culture, we often pit the two against one another. You either forgive or you pursue justice—one or the other. But what if there is no conflict between the two? What if God’s forgiveness is really a function of perfect justice?
Could it be that God only forgives once all crimes are fully paid for? It sounds strange to our Western ears, but think of the ramifications. Victim, wouldn’t it be good news if God’s forgiveness didn’t have to come at the expense of justice?
That’s the central claim of this book.