Two Perspectives On Forgiveness

There are two main perspectives on forgiveness: the emotional and the transactional.

The emotional perspective is held by most people in our society and by many Christians.  This view equates forgiveness with a change in emotions.  Forgiveness is giving up emotions of anger, bitterness, or hatred that I hold toward another person.  I have forgiven someone when my emotions toward them change from negative to positive, or at least neutral.  If I say I cannot forgive someone it means I cannot or will not stop feeling negatively toward them.  Usually, Christians who have this understanding of forgiveness believe in unconditional forgiveness.  I should change from anger/bitterness to love/acceptance–i.e., forgive–regardless of whether or not you repent, because it is wrong to harbor anger and bitterness in my heart.

The transactional view is held by far fewer people.  It views forgiveness as a transaction in which you ask for forgiveness and I grant it.  When I grant forgiveness it means I am making a promise or commitment to not bring up your sin to anyone–myself, you, others, or God–for the purpose of seeking justice.  I have forgiven someone when I keep this promise.  If I say I cannot or will not forgive someone, it means I cannot or will not make or keep this commitment to give up my quest for justice in this case. Christians who have this understanding of forgiveness usually view the change in emotions and the making of the forgiveness promise as separate things.  The giving up of anger/bitterness/hatred should be done unconditionally.  The transaction of forgiveness, however–the promise to stop pursuing justice–is conditional on repentance.  If someone refuses to repent, forgiveness should not be granted; that is, justice should be sought.

My view is the second view, the transactional view.  Ephesians 4:31-32 says, “Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice.  Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”  In these verses, putting away anger, bitterness, slander, and malice is commanded unconditionally.  We are indeed commanded to love our enemies without condition and to love one another as believers.  Jesus said, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’  But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust” (Matt. 5:43-45).  God is our example, and he shows goodwill and love even to undeserving, unrepentant rebels.

But does God forgive undeserving, unrepentant rebels?  No!  God damns them to hell.  In Ephesians 4:32 God is again our example: we are to forgive one another in the same way he forgave us in Christ.  And how did he forgive us in Christ?  In Christ he gives us his promise that he will not “remember” our sins.  This doesn’t mean he forgets things–that’s impossible!  To remember our sins means to bring them to mind for the purpose of holding us accountable.  “Remember not the sins of my youth” (Psalm 25:7).  “Do not remember against us our former iniquities” (Psalm 79:8).  “I, I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins” (Isaiah 43:25).  On the day of judgment, those whom God has forgiven will not get what they deserve (condemnation); they will get mercy.  God will not pursue justice against us for our sins, because Jesus has already taken the punishment we deserved.  God’s forgiveness is a promise that he will do this.  But does he do this unconditionally?  No.  Only those (but all those) who repent are promised forgiveness.

This then is the pattern God teaches us: 1) He is good and kind to all people unconditionally; 2) He only forgives those who repent; 3) He fully forgives all who repent; 4) His forgiveness is a promise to not remember our sins; that is, to not bring them to his mind for the purpose of pursuing justice.

I use the word transaction for this view of forgiveness because it involves an interchange between two people.  One must repent; the other must forgive.  It’s also an appropriate word because Jesus often spoke of forgiveness using financial terms of releasing someone from a debt.  “Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors” (Matthew 6:12).  “A certain moneylender had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty.  When they could not pay, he cancelled the debt of both. Now which of them will love him more?” (Luke 7:41-43).  Remember also the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant in Matthew 18 in which the servant is forgiven a huge financial debt by his master, then refuses to forgive a small debt owed by a fellow-servant.

I’ve held to this transactional view of forgiveness for many years now, but more recently I’ve come to understand some important points.

1) Forgiveness is not just a one-time transaction in which you promise to not bring up my sin again, end of story.  Rather, it may be a continual, day-to-day mental, emotional, and spiritual struggle to keep that promise.  In that sense, you may have to forgive me every day for the rest of your life, if the offense caused deep enough pain.

2) Continuing to feel hurt or even angry at times is not necessarily a sin.  Jesus felt both sorrowful and angry at times.  If someone has committed a severe injustice, it may be appropriate to have some sense of anger about what happened.  It may also be appropriate to feel emotional pain.  If, for instance, someone molested and killed your child and later repented and asked for forgiveness, you could make a commitment to them that you will not bring up their sin to yourself, them, or others for the purpose of seeking justice, but it would be entirely appropriate to feel pain and even some anger when you think about what happened.  You are never going to forget what happened, but you can come to the place where you treat the offender with love rather than justice.  Note: not personally seeking justice does not mean not allowing the government to pursue justice.  That is the government’s God-ordained role.  The state is not the church and is not required to forgive offenders; on the contrary, the state is to punish offenders (see Romans 13).

3) While I think the transactional view is biblical, it can be cold and harsh in the hands of one who loves the biblical ideal more than he loves people.  This is true of any biblical truth, but it is especially damaging in regard to the truth of forgiveness, since strong emotions are often involved.  Compassion for those who are hurting leads us to be patient with them, giving them time to work through their emotions and deal with their pain and anger.  Insisting that people bypass the process of working through emotions and simply conform to the ideal immediately is not loving or realistic.  It will not help anyone and will only lead to further pain.  The critical thing is that the offended person is committed to forgiving, even if they struggle daily to do so.  The struggle is okay; indeed, it is sometimes necessary.

When Humility Gets Hard

My previous post was about the need to keep moving toward people in relationships. Keep engaging. Keep an open heart, even when everything in you screams for self-protection. One quality that is essential if we are to keep moving toward those who have hurt us is humility.

It’s the most natural thing in the world to respond in self-righteousness when someone has wronged me. They done did me wrong, and they deserve to pay! It’s only right. It’s only just, and God is a God of justice, is he not? So of course he is on my side as I pursue the justice I deserve.

Except there’s that whole “turn the other cheek” thing. That “love your enemy” thing. There are horrible Bible verses like 1 Peter 2:21-23: “For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. When he was reviled, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly.” Surely Peter didn’t really mean we should follow Christ’s example in this. Okay, maybe he did.

Grace is clearly needed here. Notice that it was Jesus’ confidence in the justness of his Father that enabled him to refrain from seeking justice for himself. In the same way, a response of humble love toward those who do us wrong will only be possible for us if we have faith in God as a just Judge and loving Father. When it comes to strained or broken relationships, I don’t have to seek personal justice for myself if I believe my God is sovereign, loving, and just. I am free to respond to harshness with gentleness and humility.

But here’s where humility becomes really hard. Maybe we manage to respond with patience and humility at first. I humbly move toward the person with whom I am in conflict, admitting my mistakes and sins and asking for their forgiveness. I lower myself before them . . . only to feel the sole of their shoe on the back of my head, smooshing my face into the dirt. Okay. I was humble. I did the right thing. I followed the example of Jesus. I was gentle and contrite. But ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! They belittled my humility. Now they’re gonna get it! I followed Jesus’ example of humility from his first coming, now I’m going to follow his example from his second coming, in flaming fire taking vengeance on my adversaries!

Here’s my point: It’s hard to continue being humble in the midst of relational conflict when the other person remains hard and doesn’t respond to your humility. Isn’t there a limit to how long we have to respond humbly and gently? A statute of limitations, a humility expiration date, or something? Nope.

Notice in the text above that Jesus, our example, “continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly.” Note the enduring nature of Jesus’ trust in his Father that led him to respond humbly to being wronged. Jesus didn’t stop on the road to Golgotha, stand up straight, throw down his cross in disgust, and say, “Alright! That’s enough! I put up with the lies and the illegal trial. I put up with the beating and the mocking and the spitting. But this! This is just too much! I tried the gentle approach, but nooo . . . you kept doing me wrong, you humiliated me by making me carry this cross, and if you think you can just nail me to it, you’ve got another thing coming!” ZAP! KAPOW!

How long did Jesus continue to entrust justice to his Father and respond to “relational conflict” (to put it mildly) with humilily? Until he died. So I am called to respond with humility my whole life long. There is no limitation on how long I must keep responding with humility and undeserved kindness. Or maybe I could put it this way: When Jesus stops being patient with me, I can stop being patient with others.

This doesn’t mean avoid difficult discussions or necessary confrontation. It doesn’t mean never speak truth that may be hard for someone else to hear. These are just self-protective mechanisms, not true humility. It does mean that any discussion in a situation of conflict should be carried out with an attitude of love and brokenness, for my part. I should have the perspective Jesus spoke of: my brother’s sin looks like a speck to me; my own sin looks like a log to me. It’s only as we continue entrusting our cause to our just Father that we will be able–by his grace–to keep being humble, even when the other party does not respond in like kind. With God’s help, we can be the Energizer Bunnies of humility: “He just keeps being humble, and humble, and humble . . . “

Shared & Unrequited Joy

I was talking to someone recently who lost their son when he was 19 years old. They commented that they could talk about him for hours on end. Everything about their life with him. “We don’t want to forget him,” he said.

I think he also loves talking about his son because of all the joy it brings to remember him as a living person. We always like to talk about whatever brings us joy. Whatever is really important to us, we like to tell about. I think it was C. S. Lewis who pointed out that joy is not complete until it is shared with someone else. If I really enjoyed a movie, I naturally want to tell someone about it. But more than just telling, I want someone to share in my experience of joy. So even though I’ve already seen the movie, I’ll watch it again with someone else, the whole time glancing over to see if they are sharing my delight or not. If they are, my joy is complete.

But what if they’re not? What if they watch the movie and say, “Eeh, that was alright, I suppose.” I like a movie called “Welcome Back, Mr. McDonald” (in Japanese, with subtitles). I think it’s one of the funniest movies ever, but my wife doesn’t care for it. There’s also a book I love called Such is Life, written in the late 1800’s by an Australian author. I think it is one of the most brilliant works of literature in the world. I could go on for some time talking about the brilliance of the dialogue, how funny it is, how unbelievably ingenious the hidden plots are. But I can’t find anyone else who likes the book or has ever heard of it. I have unrequited joy.

Unrequited joy is discouraging. It’s like a wet blanket on a campfire, or a computer virus that strikes just as you get to the last level of an awesome computer game, or a thunderstorm on an outdoor wedding, or a slap in the face. It stings, and it’s hard not to take it personally. It’s not nice if someone hates what I love, but what really hurts is if someone is completely disinterested in something I love, something that gives me great joy.

Three points: 1) The force of my natural, inner compulsion to talk about God or Jesus Christ is an indication of how much joy I really feel in him, how much love and delight I find in him. Ouch! I don’t need anyone to push me or command me to talk about what I love or what gives me great joy. Why do I need someone to push me or command me to talk about Jesus? The more joy I find in him, the more natural it will be for me to talk about him. Finding joy in Christ must therefore be a conscious goal of my life. 2) Evangelism can legitimately be viewed simply as my attempt to share my joy with another to see if they will find joy in the same person. That doesn’t seem so daunting. I’m not trying to manipulate or argue someone into believing a set of doctrines, I am sharing my joy in the person of Jesus with someone else. Whether or not they come to share my joy in Jesus is up to God. He is one who shines “in our hearts to give the light of the [experiential] knowledge of God’s glory in the face of Jesus Christ” (2 Cor. 4:6). 3) One of the glories of heaven is that there will be no unrequited joy. Every person in heaven will have full, eternal joy in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and in each other. There will be no joy that is not fully shared and appreciated by everyone else. We will all praise together. There will be no “Eeh, I suppose God is alright,” or “I don’t know . . . Jesus just doesn’t do much for me. I’m glad you like him, though.” Our joy will be full because it will be fully shared and experienced by everyone else.

Do-able Christianity

It occurred to me recently as I studied 1 Corinthians 13 and thought about many of the sermons I have heard over the years that Christians who have a tendency toward legalism sometimes express it by sucking the emotions out of every virtue. Joy and happiness are defined as two completely different things, so that joy is reduced to peace or hope. Faith is said to have nothing to do with one’s feelings and is reduced to believing Gospel facts to be true. Love is said to be an action (which is true), not an emotion (which is not true). Fear of God is said to be respect or reverence, not actual fear. So one can have joy with no happiness, faith with no heart, love with no affection, and fear with no uneasiness. You can be a miserable person, but as long as you don’t deny Christ you can claim to be joyful. You can have no emotional reaction to the cross of Christ, but as long as you believe it to be true, you have faith. You can despise someone, but as long as you act good to them, you have love. As long as you behave biblically, you’re okay.

Could it be that this Christian behaviorism is nothing more than an attempt to make Christianity do-able without the Holy Spirit? I can see how legalism would push in that direction. I can’t change my heart, but I can choose to act certain ways, so I’ll define Christianity exclusively in terms of decisions of the will rather than affections of the heart. Give me the list of rules and I’ll keep them, but don’t ask me to have affection for someone I dislike. I can’t just decide to do that.

In fact, I’ve often heard preachers say, “God would never command us to do something that we can’t do!” Meaning, God would never ask us to change our emotions, because we can’t seem to do that by an act of the will. I say the exact opposite: “God never asks us to do anything that we can do.” Meaning, we cannot obey any of Christ’s commands without the Holy Spirit working in us. Legalism seems to want to make the Christian life naturally possible, whereas Scripture makes the Christian life naturally impossible. That is precisely why we need something supernatural in order to live it. I need the Spirit of God to work powerfully in my heart so that my emotions are stirred and enlivened in God-honoring ways. What is the fruit of the Spirit? Love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, humility, moderation? Sounds like pretty emotional stuff.

On this topic, I highly recommend Jonathan Edwards’ book, The Religious Affections, in which he establishes that true Christianity consists largely in the emotions (affections), enumerates things that don’t indicate one way or the other that your spirituality is genuine, and describes how to recognize true, grace-prompted emotions.