The Gift

Going to the theater is still very exciting to me.  The anticipation as the previews roll, the huge screen and dark room, the smell of popcorn - it was all there when my brother and I went to see The Giver a couple of weeks ago.  I could go on and on about how much I enjoyed it and spoil the ending for you...but I'll try not to.

In the movie, Jonas comes of age in a synchronized community where all differences, emotions, and idiosyncracies were abolished generations ago.  Only one person, the Giver, has received decades of memories of music, snow, and home - as well as memories of war, pain, and loss.  It is his job to hold these memories and counsel the community elders when situations are beyond their experience.  Now it is also his responsibility to transfer his role - and memories - to Jonas.

So we watch Jonas discover dancing and love - as well as death and euthanasia - and form his conscience along the way.  In one poignant scene (I really am trying not to spoil it), the Giver informs Jonas that a friend of his -  unenlightened to what Jonas has learned - will soon learn how to euthanize babies.  "She wouldn't do it," Jonas insists.  "Not if she understood."

Reminding Jonas of his community's naivete of right and wrong, the Giver argues, "You and I are the only ones who understand."

"Then it's our fault," Jonas retorts.

It's a challenging scene.  It may make some of us want to shout from the rooftops that wrong is wrong, or storm abortion centers with pro-life slogans and graphics.  It may make us want to yell our convictions loud enough that others can't help but notice us.

But is that what we should feel about this scene?

There's More to It
There is no question that Christians are called to declare truth in this world. In the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5, Jesus makes our responsibility very clear:

"'You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others'" (Matthew 5:14-16a).

Light never hides from darkness.  It can't; instead it liberates those who live in it, shining into every dark place and exposing darkness for what it is.

Just like the citizens of Jonas' community, the unbelievers among us do not see things the same way we do - they can't.  It used to be that we viewed the world the way they did.  But all that changed when God took our sinful souls (and minds and opinions and convictions) and liberated us into light.

Changing a heart (and mind) is God's work, not ours, so point-by-point arguments are not always our priority.  As Christians we certainly have a responsibility to stand for the truth, but we have never been asked to stop there. 

You see, there's more to the verse.

'"You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven'" (Matthew 5:14-16).

Notice that Jesus doesn't ask us to conquer others with our arguments or debilitate them with our logic - though there is certainly a place for well-argued defenses of Biblical truth (1 Peter 3:15).  We are called to shine, yes, but how?

With good works.  That others may see those works and glorify God, not our knowledge or rhetoric.


How Far?
"Then it's our fault," Jonas says, taking our pointing fingers and directing them back toward us.  When people make terrible choices without fully understanding the consequences of their beliefs, we are responsible to shine in that darkness.  Instead of looking down on others because of their decisions, how are we called to treat them?

No spoilage here, but Jonas and the Giver do take action - both to protect the endangered and enlighten the uninformed.  They stand for truth and defend the defenseless - all without belittling those who just can't see things the way they do.  They plead with their community to listen, and ultimately risk everything to open others' eyes to the truth - even when the very citizens they seek to help fight back.

How far would we go - not to destroy those who disagree with us, but to love them?  How much would we risk - time, appearance, public opinion - to humbly open the eyes of those who simply do not see?  What would we sacrifice that they might have what we have been given?

Because it is a gift.

"I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers, that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might" (Ephesians 1:16-19).

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"Dragon!"

They say that play is a child's work.  Whether or not that is always the case, the five-year-old boy was taking his play very seriously.  The goofy antics of his two-year-old brother would not distract him from his mission.

Equipped with the plastic armor from the dress-up closet, the older brother solemnly surveyed his knightly jurisdiction in the basement.  His little brother understood the role play.  "Dragon!" he squealed gleefully and took off running, expecting his brother to follow.

His elder brother didn't move a muscle.  With great seriousness to match his weighty responsibility, he turned to his younger brother.  "No," he said calmly.  "Knights don't run away from dragons."

Provided For
If there is ever any question about whether or not Christians will face difficulty in this world, Paul's conclusion to Ephesians takes care of that.  After reading about "schemes of the devil," "cosmic powers over this present darkness," and "spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places" (Ephesians 6:11-12), it's no wonder we need armor for this life.

But, just like every other true need we face in this life our Good Shepherd "'knows what you need before you ask him'" (Matthew 6:8).  Undoubtedly, we need armor and, just as assuredly, He provides it.

Imagine a knight in medieval times given his first coat of armor.  It would be strong.  It would perfectly fit his needs in battle.  It would be a gift.

In the same way, as Christians, we are given our own coats of armor, as illustrated in Ephesians 6.  The armor of God is strong.  It is exactly what we need.  It is a free gift.

Our Captain gives us everything we need.  Truth, righteousness, readiness from the gospel of peace, faith, salvation, the Word of God - all of it is provided for the soldiers of God.

A Scaredy-Knight

Imagine the king visiting that same knight in medieval times and asking how the battle went.  Imagine the king's response if the knight replied that he had never fought in battle...

King: "You haven't fought at all?  You have been a knight for some time now and you still haven't served in battle?  Why not?"

Knight: "To be honest, I don't want to be hurt.  I'm afraid."

King: "But I gave you a coat of armor!  A brand new coat of armor that fits you well and perfectly matches your needs in battle!  Armor is made to be used, friend.  It will protect you as you wage warfare for the kingdom."

A conversation like this probably never happened - I know.  But how often do we hold that knight's excuse in our hearts?

Whatever Comes

In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul builds a case for the resurrection of Jesus from the dead and our eventual resurrection into eternal life.  Toward the end of the chapter, the climax of his case, he exults: "But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Corinthians 15:57).

It's true - the victory is ours!  Eternally won by Jesus' sacrifice, our inheritance is "kept in heaven" for us (1 Peter 1:4) and nothing can ever change that.  We are Christ's.  We are His children, and, if you will, knights in His kingdom equipped with armor He provides.

And armor is made to be used.

After Paul's triumphant statement in 1 Corinthians 15, he finished the chapter with a charge: "Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain" (1 Corinthians 15:58).

Steadfast.  Immovable.  Always abounding in God's work.  He has given us the victory, so our work will never truly fail.

When we face "schemes of the devil," "cosmic powers over this present darkness," and "spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places," there will be times when lies and problems cloud our view of our sure victory.  But we have no need to fear.  No matter how dark, difficult, or dangerous, no matter the risk or the problem or the struggle, we have been given the victory and are equipped to stand in the battle and face whatever comes.

Knights don't run away from dragons.

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The Day in the Middle

Sometimes I wonder about the silence of Scripture.  I mean, what happened after the wedding in Cana where Jesus' first recorded miracle occurred - did the bride and groom ever know what had happened behind the scenes?  Did Jonah ever come to terms with God's mercy on Nineveh?  What about Naaman's servant girl after he was healed - and Naaman?  How did their lives change after the miraculous touched their world?

How about this one: What happened the day after Christ's crucifixion?

All four Gospel accounts give details of the grievous events of Good Friday and then focus on the triumph of Sunday morning.  They all fall strangely silent about the day in the middle: What was it like the day after Jesus died?

We are not given many clues.  The chief priests and Pharisees, who had long berated Jesus for "working" on the Sabbath, took some time that Sabbath day to stand before Pilate and request a guard on Jesus' tomb (Matthew 27:62-66).  In contrast, Luke tells us that those who buried Jesus and cared for Him "...rested according to the commandment" (Luke 23:56b).

Imagine the arrogant pomp of the Pharisees on that first Sabbath without the One who angered them so much.  What Torah text did they choose to read in the synagogue when they knew He would not be there to set them straight?  What about Nicodemus?  Joseph of Arimathea?

What was Pilate feeling that day - or Herod?  Didn't they feel the ground shake on Friday afternoon?  Didn't they notice the eerie, unnatural darkness?  The day after the Son of God died...were they still thinking about their role in His death?

What about the violent crowd?  Did they attend the synagogue that Sabbath?  Did they feel they had ousted a heretic or betrayed the only One who welcome them as they were?  Didn't they remember the lunch that fed 5,000?  The healings?  The teachings?  As they entered the synagogue that Saturday, I wonder if they felt like everything was back to normal.  Did they miss the presence of the One who had stirred up their traditions - but brought power with Him?  Did they regret the previous night?

What must have been whirling around and around in the minds and hearts of Jesus' disciples that day.  How they must have replayed in their mind what He had done and what He had said, and how they must have questioned everything they had believed about the Messiah.

We can imagine not only the grief, but the guilt they felt at abandoning Him.   Peter must have agonized over his denials before the rooster crowed.  How all of them must have felt despair, fear, loneliness, shock.

The disciples must have felt abandoned.  They were confused.  All they had learned and lived for had fallen apart in less than twenty-four hours.  The reason for their hope, their faith, and their very lives - gone?

But not for long.

When we feel the contradictions of being an eternal soul in a dying world, when we know we are children of light but the darkness remembers our name, when we believe God has a plan, but we just don't see how it could work out alright...we aren't the first to feel that way.

Today, by grace, we know something the disciples didn't yet understand as they huddled in fear with questions racing through their minds.  We know the story isn't over yet.

Early the next morning, everything changed!

"And when he had said these things, as they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. And while they were gazing into heaven as he went, behold, two men stood by them in white robes, and said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”"
Acts 1:9-11

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Listen for the Marching

The clandestine army of warriors crept as close as they dared to the unsuspecting enemy.  They trusted their leader (and his God), but thirsted to strike out at their foe, however superior the enemy forces may be.

Time slowly passed as the fighting men waited expectantly for their chance to do what they had come to do.  The strength that gave them courage in battle strained to obey the order to wait.  As the men lingered, they heard a faint thum, thum, thum coming from above them.  Looking up, they saw nothing.  But they knew something was there.

Often as I read an account in the Bible, I wish I could have been there personally to witness it.  Seriously - how amazing would it have been to be there when the Red Sea parted?  Think of the incredible grandeur of witnessing Christ's ascension into heaven or the outpouring of the Spirit on the disciples left behind!

What would it have been like to be there with David and his men?

David had just recently been crowned king of Israel.  His first battle as king - against the ever-present Philistines - ended in victory for the rookie.  Now he faced the Philistines "yet again" (2 Samuel 5:22).

But their king knew that he was in good hands.  "The Lord is on my side; I will not fear.  What can man do to me?" (Psalm 118:6).

As the apostle Paul later echoed, "If God is for us, who can be against us?" (Romans 8:31). The red sea parted for the Israelites.  Christ arose to seal our hope (1 Peter 1:3).  The Spirit came to help us as we tarry on this earth.

It's true, isn't it?  God is for us!  As Benjamin Franklin said during the arduous times of America's beginning, "God governs in the affairs of men!"  How freeing to know that God penetrates the filthy crust of our world and enters the messes of our lives.

Imagine the goosebumps those fighting men must have had as they heard the marching in the tops of the trees.  They couldn't see anyone.  They couldn't tell exactly how this would help them in this specific circumstance.  But they could hear them.  They knew God was working.  He was with them, on their side.

It’s against our nature, isn’t it?  When we find ourselves in desperate situations, like David and his men, we get frantic, seeking for a way to fight, a way to win.  Yet God calls us to leave it in His hands.

Whether we face disappointment, stress, tragedy, inconveniences, trauma, or just plain ordinariness, we are not called to fight in our own strength.  Sometimes we will fight, yes, but not without Him on our side.  Not until He says it is time.

We may never see exactly how He reached into our mess and worked in ways we would never have imagined.  We may never understand His providence in our circumstances.  But sometimes, if we listen carefully, we can hear the sound of marching.

And we will know He is with us.  No matter what.

Photo of Redwoods Whakarewarewa Forest is courtesy of TripAdvisor

Even in the Storm

It was the second-wettest August on record when my dad asked my four-year-old brother to pray before the meal.  "Dear God, thank you for the rain," he began.  "We don't like the thunder.  Please make the thunder quiet.  Amen."

I understand where he was coming from.  Who among us doesn't remember hiding under the sheets or hurrying to our parents' room as soon as we heard the distant rolls of thunder?  I remember how terrified I sometimes felt as I ran to find my parents.

It's amazing to think that the thunder that so scared me is fully and completely controlled by God.  I never saw this illustrated so vividly as I did during a long car ride when I was about eight years old.  There were storms in the distance, so it was a dark, cloudy, dismal day as we drove along, listening to a Rich Mullins CD.  As Rich Mullins sang "Awesome God," there were lightning flashes at appropriate points in the song.  My dad even replayed the song and the lightning and thunder still seemed as if it were coordinated with the music.  My eight-year-old mind was boggled at the thought that our awesome God was truly synchronizing a lights-and-sound show to "Awesome God."

"When He rolls up His sleeves 

He ain't just putting on the ritz
(Our God is an awesome God)
There's thunder in His footsteps
And lightning in His fists
(Our God is an awesome God)...

Our God is an awesome God
He reigns from heaven above
With wisdom, power, and love 

Our God is an awesome God" ("Awesome God," emphases added).

But the storms aren't always so welcome.  Sometimes they ruin our plans or damage something we hold dear.  Sometimes we face lightning and thunder when we long for clear blue skies.  Sometimes we get storms when we have prayed for sunny days.

But you know what?  The lightning and thunder are still in His hand.

"His way is in whirlwind and storm, and the clouds are the dust of his feet" (Nahum 1:3b).

"He it is who makes the clouds rise at the end of the earth, who makes lightnings for the rain and brings forth the wind from his storehouses" (Psalm 135:7).

The expectant parents who receive a devastating prenatal diagnosis.  The couple who faces mounting mortgage payments and overdue bills on top of looming layoffs.  The man unjustly accused.  The woman enduring gossips, rumors, and tell-tale glares.  The family in relational turmoil.

Where is God in the midst of these storms?  I've come to believe that's exactly where He is: in the midst of the storm.

"For you have been...a stronghold to the needy in his distress, a shelter from the storm..." (Isaiah 25:4).

"Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me, for in you my soul takes refuge; in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge, till the storms of destruction pass by." (Psalm 57:1).

How do we react when the storms come our way?  Instead of seeking out the One who controls the thunder and gives protection from its terror, how often do we feel the biting wind and the relentless rain and beg, "Please make the thunder quiet"?

Dreams crushed.  Hopes dashed.  Plans destroyed.  This life isn't going to be all we want it to be - ever. Even when things seem to be going well, we will never be at a place where we can truthfully say that everything is going exactly the way we would like.  Because it won't.

But in the midst of that dreadful realization, we can take comfort in the fact that the God who holds the lightning bolts in His hand just as assuredly holds us, too.  No matter how the storm swirls and crashes around us, there is no safer place for us to be than in His hand.

Thunder is supposed to be loud.  Storms are supposed to push us out of our comfort zone, out of our comfortable reliance on ourselves, and into the only fortress where we can truly find rest - even in the storm.

"The name of the LORD is a strong tower; the righteous man runs into it and is safe" (Proverbs 18:10).  Even in the storm.

Image courtesy of Suvro Datta/ FreeDigitalPhotos.net

"What are You Trying to Accomplish?"

I was with some friends on the campus of our local university, talking with college students about abortion.  With a tall kiosk covered with thought-provoking questions and pictures, we were hard to miss.  Most of the passers-by either hurried past us or stopped for a calm, thoughtful conversation with one of the staff members or volunteers.

Then I saw him walking up.  With a funny grin he came right up to one of the staff members standing near me.  We had received many different reactions that day - some people were disgusted, some were glad to see us there, and some did their best to ignore us.  Up to that point, however, no one seemed amused.

But as he walked toward us, he kept that silly grin and, gesturing to the kiosk, asked, "What are you trying to accomplish?"

The staff member explained that we were with the organization Justice for All and we were simply wanting to start healthy, peaceful dialogue on the topic of abortion.  She told the student how we talk with others about abortion, gently asking questions to present the pro-life position in a respectful, non-aggressive way.

"Does it work?" he asked.  "Yes," she replied, showing him a brochure and outlining how he could get involved if he was interested.  He wasn't interested.  He was pro-life, he said, but shrugged off any idea of talking to others about the issue.

So he handed the brochure back to her and walked away - with a grin.

Underneath the sarcastic attitude, it was a good question.  What are we trying to accomplish?  What if we don't accomplish it?  What if we don't "succeed"?  What if no law is ever passed or changed or repealed?  What if abortion in America never goes away?

What if?  Will we have failed?

Abortion has been legal in America for longer than that college student has been alive - for longer than I have been alive.  No wonder he felt as though there was no point in trying to do anything.  Abortion has always been around for us.  It's hard to imagine society without it.  What can we do about an issue that has existed legally for years (even decades) before we were born?  What do we think we can achieve?

What are we trying to accomplish?

I don't remember his name, but I remember the names of other people I talked with that day.  I remember watching Justice for All staff members and volunteers interact with people of different ages, different backgrounds, different walks of life - and very different opinions toward abortion.

Some people came without an opinion and left with something to think about.  Several people already had very strong convictions on the issue, but appreciated the peaceful, thoughtful dialogue a staff member or volunteer presented.  Others considered themselves pro-life, but were encouraged to take the next step and begin respectful dialogue with others they know.

Does it work?  For many, yes.  For others, we don't know yet.  Only in eternity will we know the true influence of our actions.  Even if no one listens, we can still be faithful to present the truth.  We can be loving toward everyone we meet (no matter their background or opinion on abortion).  We can be Christlike in everything we set out to do.  There's just too much at stake for us to keep our peace.  And most likely, at least someone will listen.  Others have.

What are we trying to accomplish?

"...to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with [our] God..." (Micah 6:8).

Justice for All's mission statement is "Training thousands to make abortion unthinkable for millions, one person at a time."  If you are interested in hearing more about the work of Justice for All and how you can get involved, please visit their website here or feel free to contact me (just leave a comment on this post with your e-mail address.  I won't publish the comment, but I'd love to get in touch with you!).

Heaven's Open Door

The book of Revelation is often characterized as confusing and divisive, and I think I can understand why.  I am certainly no eschatologist, so I have only a very limited grasp of the Bible's explanation of what will come when the world as we know it ends.  This is one reason why (I hate to admit) I often find reading Revelation...tedious.

But it is part of the inspired Word of God, and it is included in the Bible reading plan I have been attempting to follow.  Recently, I opened my Bible to my assigned reading for the day, unsure if I would even understand what I read - or if I could possibly relate it to my life.  But the first verses of Revelation 4 stopped me in my tracks as my eyes hurried through the mysterious verses.

"After this I looked, and behold, a door standing open in heaven! And the first voice, which I had heard speaking to me like a trumpet, said, 'Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this'" (Revelation 4:1, ESV).

"A door standing open in heaven..."  That phrase alone is packed with mind-blowing truth.  Imagine: an open door in heaven!

Inconceivable
Those who have heard and studied the Gospel know of the uncrossable chasm our sins have created between fallen human beings and the holy, perfect God.  This was once symbolized by the temple curtains dividing one temple partition from another.  The Israelite masses could congregate outside the temple, the priests could go into the first area (after undergoing purification rituals), but only one person - the high priest - could go into the final partition of the temple: the Holy of Holies.  Even the high priest could only go into the Holy of Holies once a year, and only after painstakingly preparing himself to approach the living God.

A curtain separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the temple, and another curtain separated the rest of the temple from the majority of the Israelites.  These curtains would have spanned the entire length of the tabernacle; there was no door, no opening, no entrance for sinful man to approach his Maker.

Think of it!  A door open in heaven!

That God would even care to notice our earthly predicament is a grace itself.  That He would make a way for us to enter His perfect presence is...inconceivable.

During His time on earth, Jesus made a shocking declaration: "'I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved...'" (John 10:9a).  What incredible grace!  The only One who perfectly fulfilled all requirements to enter the presence of God is the One who freely offers us His perfection.  There is only one way to heaven, and that is through - what else? - the door: Jesus Christ.

The Door Won't Always be Open

"'Then the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise.  For when the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them, but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, they all became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a cry, "Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him." Then all those virgins rose and trimmed their lamps. And the foolish said to the wise, "Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out." But the wise answered, saying, "Since there will not be enough for us and for you, go rather to the dealers and buy for yourselves." And while they were going to buy, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went in with him to the marriage feast, and the door was shut" (Matthew 25:1-10, ESV).

As God closed the door of the ark once Noah and his family had entered, so one day the door to heaven will be closed for all eternity.  The offer of His pardon, peace, and perfection still stands, but it will not stand forever.  One day, when the time is up, this door, too, will close.

Which begs the question:

"But  the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed.  Since all these things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be..."? (2 Peter 3:10-11, emphasis added).

Think of it: a door open in heaven!  There is nothing tedious about that.

Image courtesy of ponsulak / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Could I? Would I?

In 1947, Corrie ten Boom, a survivor of the German concentration camp Ravensbruck, spoke before a German audience about the forgiveness of God.  In her book, Tramp for the Lord, she tells of a man who came forward to speak with her after her talk.

"[T]he man who was making his way forward had been a guard - one of the most cruel guards.

   Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out: 'A fine message, Fraulein!  How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!'

   And I, who had spoken so glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand...

   I was face to face with one of my captors, and my blood seemed to freeze.

   'You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk,' he was saying.  'I was a guard there.'  No, he did not remember me.

   'But since that time,' he went on, 'I have become a Christian.  I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well.  Fraulein,' - again the hand came out - 'will you forgive me?'

   And I stood there - I whose sins had again and again been forgiven - and could not forgive."

I know I have already mentioned  The Hiding Place and how much I love the testimony of the ten Boom family.  Their story is riveting, and it is sobering to think of the difficulties they faced and the faith they showed even in the midst of such dark times.

The WWII era witnessed unthinkable crimes, and Corrie ten Boom personally experienced merciless cruelty.  She had friends and family members who were killed for doing right, and saw firsthand brutality and inhumanity we cannot imagine.  In Ravensbruck, Corrie watched her sister wither away until one day she, too, was gone.

It is one thing to read about forgiveness, learn about forgiveness, and believe wholeheartedly that forgiveness is a vital characteristic of the Christian walk.  It is another thing to actually live it out.

What if I was faced with forgiving the atrocities Corrie experienced?  I find it hard to forgive even "little things": inconsiderate actions, petty disagreements, unkind words.  If I struggle with forgiving minor inconveniences, what if I was asked to forgive such grievous crimes?

Could I?  Would I?

For months, Corrie endured the difficulties of life as a prisoner in Nazi concentration camps, suffering daily alongside her sister, Betsie.  Throughout her time in captivity, Corrie drew encouragement from her sister's faith - and forgiveness.

“‘Betsie!’ I wailed, ‘how long will it take?’

‘Perhaps a long, long time.  Perhaps many years.  But what better way could there be to spend our lives?’

I turned to stare at her.  ‘Whatever are you talking about?’

‘These young women.  That girl back at the bunkers.  Corrie, if people can be taught to hate, they can be taught to love!  We must find the way, you and I, no matter how long it takes...’

She went on, almost forgetting in her excitement to keep her voice to a whisper, while I slowly took in the fact that she was talking about our guards.  I glanced at the matron seated at the desk ahead of us.  I saw a gray uniform and a visored hat; Betsie saw a wounded human being.

And I wondered, not for the first time, what sort of a person she was, this sister of mine...what kind of road she followed while I trudged beside her on the all-too-solid earth" (The Hiding Place).

In Matthew 18, Jesus tells of a servant who owed his master an amount he could never repay - possibly about 200,000 years' worth of wages.  As the master prepared to sell the man's possessions and family to make a dent in his debt, the servant begged for patience, and he would pay it all back.  The master knew that was not possible.  Instead of patience, he granted mercy to the man, erasing his debt.  What an incredible gift!  Then the servant left the master's presence and found a fellow servant who owed him one hundred days' wages - obviously a much smaller sum.  Instead of passing on the forgiveness he had just been granted, he began to threaten the fellow servant, impatiently and unmercifully demanding instant payment.



The story, we know, was a parable.  But it was a true story.  The scenario is repeated every day as we who have been forgiven incurable iniquities walk around griping and groaning over the lesser offenses others commit against us.  Even when we are faced with truly horrific wrongs, as Corrie ten Boom and her family were, we know that what has been done to us could never compare with what we have done to Him.

While He was still on the cross, still suffering unimaginable torture and the ridicule of those whose sin He bore, Jesus Christ forgave the greatest crime ever committed.  And He forgives it again every time He welcomes one of us to His kingdom.

As Christians, we serve a God who forgives, and we are called to extend the forgiveness we have freely received.  "...as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive" (Colossians 3:13).

"It could not have been many seconds that he stood there - hand held out - but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do...And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart...Jesus, help me! I prayed silently.  I can lift my hand.  I can do that much.  You supply the feeling.

   And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me.  And as I did, an incredible thing took place.  The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands.  And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.

'I forgive you, brother!' I cried.  'With all my heart.'

   For a long moment we grasped each other's hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God's love so intensely as I did then.  But even so, I realized it was not my love.  I had tried, and did not have the power.  It was the power of the Holy Spirit as recorded in Romans 5:5: '...because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us'" (Tramp for the Lord).

Could I?  Would I?

No.  I couldn't.  The strength to forgive wrongdoing - whether it is a minor or a seemingly unforgivable act - is not something I find inside myself.  Every time I am faced with forgiving the wrong of another, I know I cannot do it alone.  Just as Corrie ten Boom could never have done it on her own.

The One who formed me, even though He sees and knows and is grieved by all of my sin, even though it cost Him an unimaginable price, can give His forgiveness to me.  And I can pass it on.

Image courtesy of chanpipat / FreeDigitalPhotos.net