October 27, 2009: A Lament Over The Woeful Subjectivizing Of Forgiveness

The following paragraph appeared in last week’s newspaper. What do you think of it?

Speaking publicly for the first time about his slain parents, Garrard McClendon said Friday that he has forgiven their killers. “Yes, my parents were murdered, but I have already forgiven the perpetrators,” the CLTV host told the Tribune. “I just want them to face justice.”

I don’t want to seem cold or unfeeling, so before I analyze McClendon’s statement let me say that he appears to be a very good man. I am deeply impressed that someone who has experienced such terrible grief can say that he has forgiven his parents’ murderers. I honor McClendon, and I wish him well.

But he’s not making any sense when he says, “I forgive the perpetrators - I just want them to face justice.” That is a contradiction in terms.

When contemplating forgiveness it is good to keep in mind the image the Bible uses for it. The Bible explains forgiveness in terms of canceling a debt. So, for example, if you owe me ten dollars, and I forgive you that debt, it means you don’t have to pay me the ten dollars anymore. But if I say, “I have forgiven your debt - I just want the ten dollars back,” you would be puzzled: “Wait - I don’t understand – are you forgiving me the debt or aren’t you?”

When we truly forgive someone it means that we don’t require payment for the debt, and we don’t demand that the individual face justice. That’s what it means to forgive.

Perhaps this can best be understood if we think about what we are asking for when we beg God to forgive us. If a sinner pleads mercy from God, he would not be comforted if God said, “I have forgiven you - but you’re still going to hell. Receiving my forgiveness doesn’t mean you don’t face my justice.” The sinner might respond, “Well, Lord - excuse me for not getting this - but just what do you mean when you say, 'I have forgiven you'?" And if the Lord answered, “I mean that I don’t bear you any personal animosity. I mean that, though you are going to hell, I don’t feel bad about it. I’ve just decided to let go of all that bitterness and anger and not let it weigh me down anymore. In fact, I have a real peace about this,” then the sinner would probably fall on his knees and beg for an upgrade. “Oh Lord, could you please give me the kind of forgiveness where I don’t go to hell?”

That in fact is the kind of forgiveness God offers. It is objective - blessedly so: “Therefore there is now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1). God’s forgiveness is not simply a statement about God’s state of mind with regard to us. It is an objective and consequential canceling of debt, a removal of condemnation, a full satisfaction of justice. It benefits the sinner in (eternally) tangible ways, and stands as a model for how we should forgive. “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.” (Matthew 6:12) "Forgive as the Lord forgave you." (Colossians 3:13).

But decades of sloppy preaching have subjectivized forgiveness to the point where, for many people, it no longer means an objective transaction where a debt is canceled or a sentence is overturned, but merely expresses the way the victim of an injustice feels.

How far this subjectivization goes may be illustrated by a sermon I heard last week by a nationally renowned preacher. He claimed that we can forgive people who are now dead. He explained that though you cannot be reconciled to a deceased person who (say) molested you when you were a child, you can still forgive him in the sense that you release him from your bitterness.

Well, ok, but the problem is that you can toss a bushelful of nonsense into that obscuring phrase “in the sense that.” I mean, I’m seven feet tall in the sense that feet are 10 inches long. I have a body fat index of 5 percent in the sense that all numbers are equal to their squares. You see how easy this is? Unless the phrase “in the sense that” legitimately connects to what follows, all it does (in theological discussions) is throw verbal cloaks over meaning shifts that rob words of their power and (eventually) doctrines of their orthodoxy.

Forgiveness is not (in any sense) a “letting go of personal bitterness.” We need to pick a different word or phrase for that (how about “letting go of personal bitterness”?). Then the word “forgive” can maintain its biblical force and magnitude. When we water down the word “forgive” to the point that, without fear of contradiction, we can speak of forgiving our debtors (but they had better pay up), forgiving our enemies (but I want them in jail), or forgiving great-granddad (though he’ll never know about it), then all we’ve done is put an inappropriately strong label on a subjective state of mind. And if we keep thinking of forgiveness in those vague, pastel terms, it won’t be long before the statement “God forgives vile sinners” loses all its wonder, glory and comfort.

Properly understood, the word “forgive” packs a wallop whose force must be protected from subjectivizing diminishment. Garrard McClendon has not forgiven his parents’ murderers – nor should he. God himself does not forgive unrepentant murderers, but sends them to hell (1 John 3:15; Revelation 21:8). We are not more righteous than God. And we can’t even theoretically forgive dead people (there are no biblical examples of this) - we can only stop thinking bitterly about them, which is a completely different thing.

When you forgive someone, you really and truly let him off the hook. It is not reflexive (you’re not letting yourself off the hook) but transitive (it’s something you do to someone else). It is not merely subjective (a spiritual task completed inside your own head) but objective as well (the offender reaps tangible benefit - like not owing you money any more, or seeing the charges against him dropped.)

And if your forgiveness is to be like God’s, it must insist on repentance, and it must be conditional. Seriously. More on that next week.