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.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
October 20, 2009: What (Or Whom) Are You Ashamed Of?
F. Scott Fitzgerald said, “What people are ashamed of usually makes a good story.” I’m sure that’s true, because you can almost define a person’s character by the things that shame him. Or that don’t shame him.
Moral degenerates aren’t ashamed of anything they do. Solomon said that the adulteress “eats and wipes her mouth and says, 'I've done nothing wrong.’” (Proverbs 30:20). Jeremiah condemned his generation in similar terms, saying, “Are they ashamed of their loathsome conduct? No, they have no shame at all; they do not even know how to blush.” (Jeremiah 6:15). One indication that you have become depraved is that you can do something bad and not be embarrassed about it.
Some people are embarrassed by the wrong things. My sons went to a high school with spoiled rich kids - they told me that when a teacher suggested that students visit an Aldi’s to do an assignment on budgeting, several girls literally gasped out loud. Aldi’s? Are you kidding? What if someone saw me there? The mere appearance of poverty would plunge them into a death spiral of shame from which they would not know how to break free. I told my boys they could have piped up at that moment, “Aldi’s is where Dad buys all our food!” - and thus guaranteed themselves a safe ostracizing distance from classmates who despised the poor.
My mother always said that the person who is ashamed of being poor is the same as the person who is proud of being rich. She was right.
Speaking of mothers, I have a real hard time reconciling myself to parent shame. I don’t mean being ashamed of a parent who is a drunk or an abuser or a pervert – that shame is understandable and legitimate – I mean the embarrassment that many (especially teenagers) seem to feel over the mere fact that their parents exist and dare to occupy space. The attitude that says “Mom! You’re embarrassing me! Go over there and be invisible!” should be squashed like a bug lest we indulge our children’s temptations to violate the fifth commandment. Sometimes we just need to tell them, “Look. You will honor me - both in private when we are all by ourselves, and out in public when all the world is looking on.”
Forbidding our children to be ashamed of us despite the fact that we are desperately uncool is good training for them not to be ashamed of God. No one is less cool than God. That is why even some committed Christians are embarrassed to admit their faith publicly, or put a word for Jesus in their conversations at school or work or recreation (or on the internet). The shame of being pegged as one of those insufferable religious people is too much for some of us believers to bear. But we should get over it. Jesus said, “If anyone is ashamed of me and my words, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes in his glory and in the glory of the Father and of the holy angels.” (Luke 9:26). Be ashamed, be very ashamed, of your sin. But don’t be ashamed of Jesus.
F. Scott Fitzgerald said, “What people are ashamed of usually makes a good story.” I’m sure that’s true, because you can almost define a person’s character by the things that shame him. Or that don’t shame him.
Moral degenerates aren’t ashamed of anything they do. Solomon said that the adulteress “eats and wipes her mouth and says, 'I've done nothing wrong.’” (Proverbs 30:20). Jeremiah condemned his generation in similar terms, saying, “Are they ashamed of their loathsome conduct? No, they have no shame at all; they do not even know how to blush.” (Jeremiah 6:15). One indication that you have become depraved is that you can do something bad and not be embarrassed about it.
Some people are embarrassed by the wrong things. My sons went to a high school with spoiled rich kids - they told me that when a teacher suggested that students visit an Aldi’s to do an assignment on budgeting, several girls literally gasped out loud. Aldi’s? Are you kidding? What if someone saw me there? The mere appearance of poverty would plunge them into a death spiral of shame from which they would not know how to break free. I told my boys they could have piped up at that moment, “Aldi’s is where Dad buys all our food!” - and thus guaranteed themselves a safe ostracizing distance from classmates who despised the poor.
My mother always said that the person who is ashamed of being poor is the same as the person who is proud of being rich. She was right.
Speaking of mothers, I have a real hard time reconciling myself to parent shame. I don’t mean being ashamed of a parent who is a drunk or an abuser or a pervert – that shame is understandable and legitimate – I mean the embarrassment that many (especially teenagers) seem to feel over the mere fact that their parents exist and dare to occupy space. The attitude that says “Mom! You’re embarrassing me! Go over there and be invisible!” should be squashed like a bug lest we indulge our children’s temptations to violate the fifth commandment. Sometimes we just need to tell them, “Look. You will honor me - both in private when we are all by ourselves, and out in public when all the world is looking on.”
Forbidding our children to be ashamed of us despite the fact that we are desperately uncool is good training for them not to be ashamed of God. No one is less cool than God. That is why even some committed Christians are embarrassed to admit their faith publicly, or put a word for Jesus in their conversations at school or work or recreation (or on the internet). The shame of being pegged as one of those insufferable religious people is too much for some of us believers to bear. But we should get over it. Jesus said, “If anyone is ashamed of me and my words, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes in his glory and in the glory of the Father and of the holy angels.” (Luke 9:26). Be ashamed, be very ashamed, of your sin. But don’t be ashamed of Jesus.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
October 13, 2009: On Praising Spouses
I am not going to praise my spouse on this page today. I won’t. She has asked me not to, and I will honor her request. She tells me that whenever I speak highly of her it makes her uncomfortable because she does not feel worthy of my public compliments. So I’ll grant her wish and honor the petition that so clearly springs from her sweet humility and modest self-effacing character and mild feminine deference and all those other qualities of decorum and grace that make me giddy with delight and keep me praising God daily both for the raptures of matrimonial ecstasy and the calm joys of settled peace that by his favor he has brought into my life through her like she were a rushing cascade of abundant cool waters to a desert-starved and soul-weary traveler.
But praise her? No - I said I wouldn’t do that, and I won’t.
So let me instead encourage you to praise your spouse, if you have one and can scrape together a single good thing to say about him or her.
I’ll be brutally frank about the thing that brought this topic to mind: discussions that apparently take place among married women. I have never been privy to one of these discussions, obviously - but enough reports have filtered back to me over the years to make me wonder if one of the prime topics of conversation is “All The Things That Are Wrong With My Husband.” I even asked a woman the other day if she knew anyone who spoke highly of her mate. She did not say “Oh sure, lots!” but paused a while and scanned her memory until she could come up with a name. The sad thing is that it involved a Christian woman married to an unbeliever. (I think, “Dang. There’s got to be good Christian husbands out there whose wives extol their merits.”)
Some spouses, of course, are just plain losers and there is nothing good to say about them. Nabal (1 Samuel 25) was like that, and his poor wife Abigail had to run to David and say, “My husband is a jerk! Please don’t kill us!” (Nabal then did everybody a favor by falling over dead.) And Gomer (in Hosea chapters 1-3) was a filthy cheating whore, so her husband probably did not go around telling friends, “Well, at least she’s a good cook.”
Those of you who are married to Nabals or Gomers are exempt from the command to say good things about your mates. We don’t want you to lie.
For the rest of you, contemplate applying Philippians 4:8 to your marriages. It reads, “Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.”
There’s biblical precedent for praising your husbands and wives. Abraham said to Sarah, "I know what a beautiful woman you are” (Genesis 12:11). The widow of a prophet told Elisha, “You know [my husband] revered the Lord” (2 Kings 4:1). Ruth and Boaz said nice things about each other in public. Solomon and his beloved had the screaming hots for each other, and sang each other’s glories in exquisite detail (Song of Solomon). Lemuel quoted a happy husband who says, “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all” (Proverbs 31:29).
In 1971 my mother wrote an article for the Chicago Daily News in which she praised her husband (as always, I’ll make copies available upon request). One of the things she praised him for was praising her! Among the good things he did (which she framed as “advice for husbands who have more love to offer than money”):
- Make a small production out of it when you introduce her to anyone.
- Smile and nod in agreement when she’s complimented.
- Bristle when you detect even a slight criticism of her.
- If she’s a great housekeeper and you’re a disorganized one, don’t attempt your own reformation. Just brag about her fantastic ability to all her friends.
I don’t know about that last one. I think Mom just got carried away with her own rhetoric, because it seems to me that all great housekeepers - male or female – do in fact appreciate it when their disorganized spouses attempt personal reformation. So maybe she exaggerated a little on that.
But as for the concluding observation, who among us doesn’t like having our fantastic abilities bragged about to all our friends?
I am not going to praise my spouse on this page today. I won’t. She has asked me not to, and I will honor her request. She tells me that whenever I speak highly of her it makes her uncomfortable because she does not feel worthy of my public compliments. So I’ll grant her wish and honor the petition that so clearly springs from her sweet humility and modest self-effacing character and mild feminine deference and all those other qualities of decorum and grace that make me giddy with delight and keep me praising God daily both for the raptures of matrimonial ecstasy and the calm joys of settled peace that by his favor he has brought into my life through her like she were a rushing cascade of abundant cool waters to a desert-starved and soul-weary traveler.
But praise her? No - I said I wouldn’t do that, and I won’t.
So let me instead encourage you to praise your spouse, if you have one and can scrape together a single good thing to say about him or her.
I’ll be brutally frank about the thing that brought this topic to mind: discussions that apparently take place among married women. I have never been privy to one of these discussions, obviously - but enough reports have filtered back to me over the years to make me wonder if one of the prime topics of conversation is “All The Things That Are Wrong With My Husband.” I even asked a woman the other day if she knew anyone who spoke highly of her mate. She did not say “Oh sure, lots!” but paused a while and scanned her memory until she could come up with a name. The sad thing is that it involved a Christian woman married to an unbeliever. (I think, “Dang. There’s got to be good Christian husbands out there whose wives extol their merits.”)
Some spouses, of course, are just plain losers and there is nothing good to say about them. Nabal (1 Samuel 25) was like that, and his poor wife Abigail had to run to David and say, “My husband is a jerk! Please don’t kill us!” (Nabal then did everybody a favor by falling over dead.) And Gomer (in Hosea chapters 1-3) was a filthy cheating whore, so her husband probably did not go around telling friends, “Well, at least she’s a good cook.”
Those of you who are married to Nabals or Gomers are exempt from the command to say good things about your mates. We don’t want you to lie.
For the rest of you, contemplate applying Philippians 4:8 to your marriages. It reads, “Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.”
There’s biblical precedent for praising your husbands and wives. Abraham said to Sarah, "I know what a beautiful woman you are” (Genesis 12:11). The widow of a prophet told Elisha, “You know [my husband] revered the Lord” (2 Kings 4:1). Ruth and Boaz said nice things about each other in public. Solomon and his beloved had the screaming hots for each other, and sang each other’s glories in exquisite detail (Song of Solomon). Lemuel quoted a happy husband who says, “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all” (Proverbs 31:29).
In 1971 my mother wrote an article for the Chicago Daily News in which she praised her husband (as always, I’ll make copies available upon request). One of the things she praised him for was praising her! Among the good things he did (which she framed as “advice for husbands who have more love to offer than money”):
- Make a small production out of it when you introduce her to anyone.
- Smile and nod in agreement when she’s complimented.
- Bristle when you detect even a slight criticism of her.
- If she’s a great housekeeper and you’re a disorganized one, don’t attempt your own reformation. Just brag about her fantastic ability to all her friends.
I don’t know about that last one. I think Mom just got carried away with her own rhetoric, because it seems to me that all great housekeepers - male or female – do in fact appreciate it when their disorganized spouses attempt personal reformation. So maybe she exaggerated a little on that.
But as for the concluding observation, who among us doesn’t like having our fantastic abilities bragged about to all our friends?
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
October 6, 2009: A Note On The Pursuit Of Happiness
Suppose you are single and contemplating marriage, and a benevolent angel visits you and tells you that if you marry you will be exactly as happy in the future as if you had remained single. The pros and cons of your marriage will balance each other perfectly – all joys on the one side will match (but not exceed) sorrows on the other.
Do you marry?
I think a Christian would want to ask the angel, “Well, what does God want me to do?” Now the angel says, “In your case God doesn’t care. Oops – sorry - let me rephrase that. He cares about you, of course, it’s just that he’s fine with it either way, whether you marry or remain celibate. Both options are equally obedient.”
So, do you marry? Or is there anything else you would like to ask the angel?
While you think about that, let me recommend an essay by C. S. Lewis, “We Have No ‘Right To Happiness’” in his book, God in the Dock. It would give me some happiness to mail you a copy of it upon request, because it is good and will benefit you and you will be a better person if you take its lessons to heart.
Lewis writes about people who do despicable things like have affairs and leave their mates because doing so makes them happy - and happiness is a thing they regard as a sacred right. Actually, they only regard their own happiness as a sacred right. If someone slandered them, for example, they would howl in protest and not be placated if their enemy explained, “But it made me happy to tell all those lies about you!”
Lewis’ essay debunking the right to happiness is the last thing he ever wrote. He died a few days later.
Lewis was a happy man, by all accounts – jovial, courteous, laughed a lot, brightened every room he entered. All the Lewis biographies say that about him, and every written remembrance alludes to his broad generosity of spirit. But Lewis hardly ever seemed to plot a course of action merely on the basis of what would make him happy. In fact, he even got married as a favor to a friend! American author (and single mom) Joy Gresham asked him if he would marry her so that she would not be deported from England when her visa expired. Though perfectly content as a 58-year-old bachelor, Lewis agreed to the marriage-in-name-only (no rings, private civil ceremony, they lived apart) just so that she could stay in England with her boys.
Then Joy got cancer, and Lewis took her into his home. He cared for her until she died two years later. He fell deeply in love with her, and cherished her as much as one person can cherish another. Read A Grief Observed, written right after her death, and unless your heart is made of stone you’ll want to cry for him, the loss hurt so bad.
The last thing Joy said to Lewis before she passed away was “You have made me happy.”
That’s what I’d like to ask the angel about in the hypothetical situation I propose above. Regardless of whether marriage advances my happiness, what about my spouse? Will she have greater joy for having married me? If so, then by all means let’s do this! If I am to marry, please let it be to someone who can say to me on her deathbed (or when I’m on mine), “You have made me happy.”
Romans 14:7 says that none of us lives to himself alone. That is as it should be. Do good, and let the prospect of other peoples’ happiness determine the course of your actions and decisions. You might get a good share of your own happiness on the rebound. And if not, well, don’t worry about it. If you trust in Jesus Christ you’ll have a whole eternity to bathe in joys and ecstasies that will drown every sorrow you have ever known.
Suppose you are single and contemplating marriage, and a benevolent angel visits you and tells you that if you marry you will be exactly as happy in the future as if you had remained single. The pros and cons of your marriage will balance each other perfectly – all joys on the one side will match (but not exceed) sorrows on the other.
Do you marry?
I think a Christian would want to ask the angel, “Well, what does God want me to do?” Now the angel says, “In your case God doesn’t care. Oops – sorry - let me rephrase that. He cares about you, of course, it’s just that he’s fine with it either way, whether you marry or remain celibate. Both options are equally obedient.”
So, do you marry? Or is there anything else you would like to ask the angel?
While you think about that, let me recommend an essay by C. S. Lewis, “We Have No ‘Right To Happiness’” in his book, God in the Dock. It would give me some happiness to mail you a copy of it upon request, because it is good and will benefit you and you will be a better person if you take its lessons to heart.
Lewis writes about people who do despicable things like have affairs and leave their mates because doing so makes them happy - and happiness is a thing they regard as a sacred right. Actually, they only regard their own happiness as a sacred right. If someone slandered them, for example, they would howl in protest and not be placated if their enemy explained, “But it made me happy to tell all those lies about you!”
Lewis’ essay debunking the right to happiness is the last thing he ever wrote. He died a few days later.
Lewis was a happy man, by all accounts – jovial, courteous, laughed a lot, brightened every room he entered. All the Lewis biographies say that about him, and every written remembrance alludes to his broad generosity of spirit. But Lewis hardly ever seemed to plot a course of action merely on the basis of what would make him happy. In fact, he even got married as a favor to a friend! American author (and single mom) Joy Gresham asked him if he would marry her so that she would not be deported from England when her visa expired. Though perfectly content as a 58-year-old bachelor, Lewis agreed to the marriage-in-name-only (no rings, private civil ceremony, they lived apart) just so that she could stay in England with her boys.
Then Joy got cancer, and Lewis took her into his home. He cared for her until she died two years later. He fell deeply in love with her, and cherished her as much as one person can cherish another. Read A Grief Observed, written right after her death, and unless your heart is made of stone you’ll want to cry for him, the loss hurt so bad.
The last thing Joy said to Lewis before she passed away was “You have made me happy.”
That’s what I’d like to ask the angel about in the hypothetical situation I propose above. Regardless of whether marriage advances my happiness, what about my spouse? Will she have greater joy for having married me? If so, then by all means let’s do this! If I am to marry, please let it be to someone who can say to me on her deathbed (or when I’m on mine), “You have made me happy.”
Romans 14:7 says that none of us lives to himself alone. That is as it should be. Do good, and let the prospect of other peoples’ happiness determine the course of your actions and decisions. You might get a good share of your own happiness on the rebound. And if not, well, don’t worry about it. If you trust in Jesus Christ you’ll have a whole eternity to bathe in joys and ecstasies that will drown every sorrow you have ever known.
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