An elderly woman standing at the door of a
church, shaking hands as people file out. A balding man in a grey overcoat,
slowly but surely approaching. She sees
not the grey overcoat but a blue uniform under harsh lights. She feels again the shame of filing past him
naked, her sister’s frail body just ahead.
When he reaches her, it’s as though time stands still. He thrusts out his hand expectantly but she
can’t move. Finally, woodenly, mechanically
her hand meets his and then something unexpected. Her eyes fill with tears, her coldness gives
way to warmth and she grasps his hand more tightly. For a long moment, Nazi guard and prisoner
cling to each other.
This scene took place in 1947 at a church
in Munich where the woman, Corrie Ten Boom
had come to speak about God’s forgiveness. During World War 2, the Ten Boom family had concealed
Jews in their home during the Nazi occupation of Holland. For their ‘crimes’, Corrie and her sister,
Betsie were sent to Ravensbruck where Betsie perished. When the guard from Ravensbruck approached
Corrie that day, she knew she should offer him her hand in a gesture of
forgiveness; ‘forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors’… but how?
In Chapter 7 of ‘Passion’, McKinley leads us on a thoughtful journey of what lies
behind this familiar line from ‘The Lord’s Prayer’.
He begins by saying forgiveness is
absolutely necessary for relationships because of the reality of sin. But he admits it raises lots of questions: is
there anything that is unforgiveable; who should be forgiven; what if
forgiveness isn’t asked for; what kind of apology is required, if any; must
justice be laid aside?
These questions only become more
problematic when it comes to our most fundamental relationship, our
relationship with God. We offend God not
only by how we mistreat Him but also how we mistreat others. As the creator and sustainer of all, God is
the offended party in all of our sin.
In answer, McKinley takes us to a naked man
hanging on a cross, not yet dead; above his head a sign, “This is the King of
the Jews”. Amidst the mocking and
sneering crowd, the man utters some of his final words…
“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they
are doing.” Luke 23:34
In accordance with his Father’s plan, Jesus
deliberately walked towards his death on the cross to make forgiveness possible. So it’s no surprise that as his life ebbed
away, Jesus asked for forgiveness for his tormentors and perpetrators.
McKinley reminds us the cross is God’s
solution to the problematic questions forgiveness raises. The cross solves the dilemma of how a holy
and just God can overlook our sin; Jesus’ death paid the price. The cross solves our conundrums when it comes
to forgiving others; if God forgives us, through the cross, we are enabled to
forgive others. Further, if we do not
forgive others, it casts doubt on whether we have really understood our own
desperate need for forgiveness found only at the cross (See Jesus’ parable in
Matthew 18:23-35). It was this knowledge
that drove Corrie Ten Boom beyond any human limitations to reach out to her
tormentor.
If you look at that wrong you have been done, it will
seem too great to cancel. If you look at
the cross and see it in the light of Jesus’ forgiveness of you, it will seem too
small not to forgive. Whatever –
whatever – it is, the Christian can and must look to the cross and forgive… as
I look at the Son of God on His cross, thinking of me and saying “Father,
forgive”, how can I possibly refuse to forgive? (p.105)
The reflection questions at the end of this
chapter, though simple are hard to answer.
My thoughts were occupied for more than a day by just the first one: Do you tend to see yourself as someone who
has been wronged, or as someone who needs forgiveness? (p.109)
The words of a friend and sister in Christ
echoed in my head as I pondered this question. She said that as she gets older,
it’s a challenge to remain humble especially when dealing with those younger
than her. As I thought about her words,
I realised that increasingly, I do find myself feeling I’m the one owed an
apology and decreasingly that I’m the one who needs to say sorry. I recently celebrated my 48th
birthday. With those years, experience
and hopefully a little wisdom have grown but something else has grown too,
susceptibility to pride. Pride means more
and more, I expect forbearance from others whilst the compulsion to show grace
withers.
There’s no better cure for my pride than
looking to the cross. When I look at the
cross, my perspective shifts. Stripped
of any merit before God, I can approach others more humbly; we are all
life-long learners. Fully known and
forgiven, God’s grace to me overflows into my relationships with others.
McKinley enriches each chapter by offering
a poem or a hymn as a closing meditation.
In imitation, let me offer a hymn of my own, ‘The Look’ by John Newton.
Thus while His death my sin displays
For all the world to view
Such is the mystery of grace
It seals my pardon too
With pleasing grief and mournful joy
My spirit now is filled
That I should such a life destroy
Yet live by Him I killed
A last thought from McKinley on
forgiveness… God forgives, not because it’s His job but because it’s His
character (Eg. Exodus 34:6-7). Likewise,
our forgiveness is not a grudge-filled necessary task but a sign of our
transformed character.
