Forgiveness

Matthew18:21-35

Did you ever hear the story of Alvin Straight?  Alvin lived in Laurens, Iowa with his daughter who looked after him. When he was 73 years old he set out on a 240-mile journey to see his estranged brother, Henry, in Wisconsin. Henry had recently had a stroke, Alvin heard. They had not spoken to each other in 10 years. Now, with a clear-eyed view of their mortality, Alvin felt the need to reconcile with Henry.

The only problem was Alvin didn’t have a driver’s license. Poor health and failing vision had forced him to give it up. But Alvin did not let that stop him. He hopped on his John Deere lawn tractor and hit the road. People thought he had gone off his rocker, but Alvin was determined to make his way to his brother somehow. It took him six weeks.

There was a movie made about Alvin’s story, called The Straight Story. We ought to watch it together sometime.

In the film, as he gets near Henry’s home he has an encounter with a priest who, it turns out, knows Henry. The priest says, “Henry never mentioned he had a brother.” Alvin says, “Neither one of us has had a brother for some time.”

We might call this the parable of the lawn tractor. Because I imagine if we really look, we can see ourselves in Alvin and Henry. Who among us has not, on occasion, found it easier to withhold forgiveness that would take what Alvin describes as “A hard swallow to our pride” that is sometimes needed for reconciliation?

Who among us has not mulled it over and decided, maybe I will call her tomorrow to say I’m sorry, but I don’t really care to have that conversation today?

Who among us has not nursed hard feelings and, every now and then, trotted the story out again to tell someone new so they can experience the outrage all over again? These sorts of things are happening all around us all the time. It happens between friends, it happens in families. It happens in workplaces. It happens within churches, and it happens sometimes between a congregation and the presbytery. I just heard a story the other day about a congregation who has been holding some resentment against the presbytery for a perceived slight that happened years ago.

When we replay these things in our memories, we might make slight alterations to the stories, so that the ones who are wrong are more clearly and completely in the wrong. And any fault of our own is gently erased and forgotten. Who among us has never done that?

The parable of the lawn tractor is not a bad one. Hearing it, we might remember times in our own lives where we have had a falling out with someone and just let it go. And when we do remember, the parable might make us realize that life is finite. And resentment is long. And forgiveness is … mysterious.

Alvin feels suddenly compelled to seek forgiveness from his brother Henry. For ten years it has been easier to push this problem into the background, but now this news of Henry’s stroke has forced him to realize he will not have infinite time and opportunities to do the thing that, deep in his heart, he knows he must do.

Even hard-hearted people have a soft, human core inside.

Alvin is now turned around, or repented, so completely that he will make this alarmingly risky and terribly uncomfortable journey in order to do the right thing at last.

The parable of the lawn tractor, together with the parable of the unforgiving slave, provide a rich context in which to consider the problem of forgiveness.

And, just as we know that we are not Alvin and Henry, and none of us (I hope) is planning on taking a lawn tractor vacation, we also should know that in Jesus’ parable, the king is not God and the unforgiving slave is not us. Nonetheless, the story has much to teach us, if we would have ears to hear.

Remember how this conversation started. Jesus and his friends have been discussing the process for working through a disagreement in the church. When you have been hurt by someone, when there has been a dispute, how do you move forward? Jesus lays out a process we would do well to follow. And here, as the conversation continues, it becomes clear that forgiveness is an essential part of that process.

Even if the one you are in dispute with rejects your overtures, even if that one becomes as a Gentile or a tax collector to you, in Jesus’ words, forgiveness is still a part of the equation.

So let’s consider this story of the unforgiving slave.

There was a kingdom where the ruler decided one day that he would reconcile accounts with all his slaves, and he had many, many slaves. One by one, the slaves were presented to him. There was one man who approached him who, according to the ledgers, owed the king a ridiculously huge fortune. He owed him more than he would earn in 150,000 years. Not kidding; that’s how much it was. There was no way in heaven or in hell or on earth that this man could repay it.

But he falls on his knees and says, “Please, lord, give me time – I will pay you back, I promise!”

The ruler of the kingdom thinks: I could sell this man and all his family and at least get something out of it. But instead, he is moved with compassion, and he lets him go. He says, “The debt is forgiven.” The slave has a clean slate.

And, in a way, we see this as like the unfathomable forgiveness bestowed on us by God. We are forgiven, thanks be to God. Even though God could hold us accountable for every shortcoming, flaw, and plain act of evil we commit, God chooses forgiveness.

Now. This forgiven slave leaves, free of his burden. But on his way, he encounters a fellow slave who happens to owe him some money – a considerable sum, a few months wages. Frankly, in comparison to the debt he has just been forgiven, it is nothing. But it is something to this guy. It might mean the difference between being able to remodel his kitchen, or not.

Just like that, he has forgotten his own debt. He has forgotten the fate that he just narrowly escaped. He has forgotten, as he sends this poor man to debtor’s prison that “there, but for the grace of God, go I.”

How easily we forget our own need for forgiveness. Especially when we have the opportunity to withhold forgiveness from someone else.

The parable reminds us that, in our own heads, we are always the victim of any circumstance. Maybe, though, when we are confronted with our own mortality, we can be jolted into seeing our own need to be forgiven and to offer forgiveness to others.

When Alvin Straight realized one day that his brother could die, he knew that he could die too. And that changed the way he looked at life. Why had he withheld forgiveness for all those years? What could he possibly have been thinking?

The fact is, the thought of death can scare us into doing the right thing. I have no doubt that the ending of this parable of the unforgiving servant is meant to give us a good scare. And, since we know God to be all-forgiving, I feel sure that God would be able to forgive the slave even this act of cruelty. But the real point of both these parables – the lawn tractor and the unforgiving servant – is this: why wait?

You are forgiven now. God does not withhold forgiveness. In God’s realm, forgiveness is free and abundant, and if we choose to live in God’s realm, we also will forgive freely, and abundantly.

It’s a choice we have. We always have this choice.

In God We Trust

Romans 13:8-14

Matthew 18:15-20

Have you ever been lured into clicking on the link to a buzzfeed quiz? You know, those spectacularly effective timewasters that somehow make you think it would be useful to know what Disney Princess you are?

I confess I have – many times. When I am in a procrastinating mood I am especially susceptible to this sort of click bait. And why not? Shouldn’t I have a handle on what truth my Panera preferences reveal about me?

We are living in an age where we look to Buzzfeed quizzes to tell us something about ourselves, and I don’t know whether I should laugh or cry. It’s not only the quizzes. Buzzfeed, along with other purveyors of self-help pablum, provide an abundance of internet articles that promise to tell us something we absolutely must know for the sake of improving our lives – in small, easy, bites.

If you scroll through your facebook feed, you will probably find headings like “12 life-changing things to do this month” or “11 fool-proof ways to make a good impression.” These are real headlines, by the way. Stuff that lures you in with the promise of something too good to be true.

Yet for those who are diligently working their way through Paul’s letter to the Romans along with me, I think it’s safe to say there are no easy scripts to follow when it comes to living this faith in Christ. I hope I don’t sound like an Eeyore when I say that. I took the “Which Winnie the Pooh character are you?” quiz, and I am not. It’s just that, even though we would like to have an easy set of steps to follow, there is no simple formula for success as a Christian.

If this passage from Romans were published as a Buzzfeed article, the heading might be, “5 ways to live a holier life!” And Jesus’ words from Matthew 18 could be titled, “4 Steps to Renewing your Relationships!”

In fact, the words of Jesus in this passage from Matthew do seem like a pretty straightforward set of steps to follow when you believe that someone has sinned against you.

First, go tell that person, one on one, in private. You know, be direct. Instead of letting your displeasure slip out in drips of sarcasm, just take the person aside and let them know, as kindly as possible, that you have been hurt by them. If you have ever done something like this, maybe you know that it can be a very helpful experience. Oftentimes, especially among friends, it provides an opportunity to clear the air.

But it is also possible that the other person will not accept any responsibility for the problem. Because maybe this person, like you and me and everyone we know, has a knack for rationalizing away their failures. In which case, you might find yourself moving on to the next step: take one or two others with you to support your claim. Maybe the numbers will have an effect on them.

But if the person still rejects your complaint, Jesus says it is time to take it to the church as a whole. Now the church is being asked to serve as a kind of judicial body. It is a responsibility that the church rarely wants to take on anymore; too many bad experiences, I guess. But it is a responsibility that, in a simpler age, the church had no embarrassment about handling.

Once I was going through old session minutes at a church – and when I say old I mean dating from the early 20^th century. Beautiful hand-written narratives. I came across an account of a meeting where a member was brought before the session to address charges of public drunkenness. There were no lawyers involved. There was no crime under discussion, but it was a matter of conduct that was deemed to be inappropriate for a church member. The session had the right – and responsibility, they believed – to be a part of this process of rehabilitating this man.

There are two things that can happen when a person is brought up on charges by the church: the person can accept the right of the church to do this, or the person can reject it. Anyone who has been charged – pastors, elders, or any member – can decide for themselves whether they want to subject themselves to the process. If they decide to stick it out, then they can all begin the hard work of penitence and reconciliation, hopefully for the good of the church as a whole. When it works well, the process strengthens the church. But if they do not choose to subject themselves to the process, they can simply leave. They are removed from the membership rolls and the community, and they may do whatever they want to do, go wherever they want to go. They may become, in Jesus’ words, as a Gentile or a tax collector to you.

So, then. That’s that. Or is it?

Several years ago, when our denomination was going through some acutely painful disagreements, many congregations were deciding whether they wanted to sever their connection with us. Many of them did. It was painful. It was like a divorce, that kept happening again and again and again. As we elected a Moderator for the 2012 General Assembly, it was a subject on our minds. What were we to do about those congregations who wanted to have nothing more to do with us?

One of our candidates spoke to the issue in a way that was quite memorable: We should do all we can to reconcile with them. Every effort should be made to work through our disagreements. But if, in the end, they still want to leave, there is nothing we can do to stop them. We can’t coerce them. Let them go. But let’s leave the light on for them. Should they ever choose to come back, they will be welcome.

In other words, or as Jesus might say, treat them as a Gentile or a tax collector. Think about it, guys. How did Jesus treat Gentiles and tax collectors?

Let them separate themselves from the fellowship. Take them off the rolls if that is what they want. But leave the light on. If they ever look back, they will know we are ready to welcome them with open arms.

So, here is the point I want to get to: This is about putting our trust in God. Through Christ, God has given us the community of the church, in which God is present with us. Our relationships with one another in this community are extensions of our relationship with God. We need one another to live this covenant life of Christianity. We need to help one another live lives of faith, practice compassion, be like Christ to the extent we are able. We are accountable to one another and accountable for one another, meaning how we treat one another and how we support one another both matter a great deal.

As much as Buzzfeed tries to tell me, and as much as I would like to believe, that following 5 easy steps will make my life just the way I want it to be, I know it’s not really the case. It’s a life-long journey, and I need you to help me be the person God intends me to be – to be generous both spiritually and materially, to live with gratitude and mercy, to speak and act in support of justice for all of God’s children. I need to put my trust in you, to help me be that person. You need to help me, and I need to do the same for you.

The importance of trust in the life of a Christian community cannot be overstated. It is essential if we are serious about being the church of Jesus Christ. And like anything of great value, it must be guarded and cared for.

Trust in God, and the Spirit will give us strength to trust one another, in Jesus’ name.

Photo Credit: By User:Lincolnite - un contributeur du wikipedia dans la langue anglaise - File:VT Supreme Court.jpg à la page http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:VT_Supreme_Court.jpg, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16997290

What is a Christian?

Romans12:9-21

In my years as a campus minister I read a lot about what young adults think about the church, and most of it is not cheery. One of the books I read is called Unchristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity. The first sentence of the first chapter is, “Christianity has an image problem.” Did you know that? You probably already knew that.

It gives us much grief that most of the ugly stuff that comes out of the church is what gets the most public attention. We sometimes complain that we don’t get credit for the good things we do – and there are a lot of good things we do. It feels frustrating when we realize that the world is painting us all with the same broad brush whenever some church leader with a microphone makes some appalling statement, like “the hurricane happened because God is angry with the gays,” or whatever happens to be the hot button issue of the day.

The church has a reputation for being all about judging others. The church has a reputation for making pronouncements that seem to promote a worldview where there are insiders and outsiders, those who are God’s beloved and those who are displeasing to God. I have been guilty of voicing such opinions myself.

The church has a reputation for talking one way and acting another – of saying, “All are welcome,” and then making people who are different feel very unwelcome; of saying “Jesus is the reason for the season” and then cancelling church on Christmas because the members would rather stay home and open presents. Behind every accusation of hypocrisy is the possibility of a long and helpful conversation, but those conversations rarely happen. Most of the time, the initial impression does all the talking.

It is a fact that greatly distresses us. The word that is most closely associated with Christian in our culture is – hypocrite.

Christians are often called hypocrites because we preach love but often act in unloving ways. Christians are sometimes called hypocrites because we preach generosity but often act in ungenerous ways. We know these things are true, and we feel discouraged, or perhaps angry, that our shortcomings earn us the label hypocrite. Sometimes we might behave as hypocrites, but much of the time we are just fragile and flawed human beings like everyone else.

The truth of the matter is that it is not easy to be a Christian. In fact, Jesus told us that – not in so many words, but he surely hinted as much when he said things like “take up your cross and follow me,” and “the gate is narrow and the road is hard.” Following Jesus, being a Christian, is a hard thing to do.

And so, even if we are trying every day to do the right thing, we might still be called hypocrite because we will never get it exactly right. We will always fall short. I think the bigger problem might be that we are so rarely willing to admit it.

It is a funny thing – the church is very hard on those who fail – including ourselves, maybe especially ourselves. I have been thinking about this for the last few years, ever since I went to a church conference and heard about a project called Failure Lab.

It was started by a couple of guys, Jordan and Jonathan, who had an interest in destigmatizing failure. They noticed that the typical inspirational story starts out describing a failure, and then goes on to say how that failure led to some great success and changed the person’s life. This is great. But how does it help you if you have never yet felt the success part? What if you have only experienced the failure?

Jordan and Jonathan wanted to see how it would work to just put the failure out there all by itself. So that’s what they did. At every Failure Lab event, someone gets on stage to tell a story of personal failure. They are not permitted to whitewash it, assign blame, or tack a “moral of the story” on the end. They just put it out there and walk away.

The audience then is given some time to reflect on it. They are invited to share what the story means to them – they can tweet their comments, in 140 characters or less. Audience members might see some moral of the story and tweet it; they might see some value in it and tweet it. But the main value in Failure Lab is not the tweets, it is the act of taking your failure and just laying it out in the open. Folks who have done it say it is liberating. You have taken ownership of your experience, told your story, and lived to fight another day.

It’s not only the storyteller who benefits. When you are sitting in the audience, and you hear someone else telling their story of failure, it might feel awkward – but you know you are not alone. The fear of failure begins to melt away and you begin to feel the confidence that no failure can destroy you, no failure will take away your hope.

The church needs Failure Lab. We need to develop the confidence to tell the stories of our failures – our sinfulness, our shortcomings, the times we miss the mark and fall short of the love we profess to believe. We need the courage to stand up and say to ourselves, to God, and perhaps one other person, just how we have been crushed by our own weaknesses.

Why does it matter? You might ask. it’s a good question.

A young man I knew during campus ministry days once told me about his evangelizing experiences. He and another student went door to door in the dorms to invite others to join them for Bible study. It wasn’t at all uncommon for them to get a response like, “You Christians are such hypocrites! You say one thing and do another.” But what was unusual was the way these two young men tried to respond to it. They’d say, “yes, you are right. We say one thing and do another. We don’t live up to our hopes and expectations. We sin and fall short of the glory of God. We know that. We’re just trying to do better. And we want to invite you to join us in studying the scriptures and trying to do better.”

To be a Christian is to be a sinner, because in our human state we can hardly avoid it. But it goes further than that – to be a Christian is to know you are a sinner and confess your sin. To be a Christian is to have your sights set on something higher – these words from Paul in this chapter of Romans will do quite well – and to seek, with the help of God, to keep your eyes on the prize. To be a Christian is to strive every day to know the difference between good and evil and to respond to either one – good or evil – with love. To be a Christian is to try always to practice compassion, forgiveness, humility, and – just maybe – to be honest with one another about how hard it is.

To be a Christian is not to be perfect, but to know how imperfect you are. To be a Christian is to try hard not to hold other people’s imperfections against them. To be a Christian is to love and welcome other sorely imperfect people into the fellowship of sinners who are all in training to become saints.

Jesus chose to associate with sinners – imperfect, flawed people. He sat at their tables to share their food, and he invited them – and us – to sit at his table as well. He extended this love to us, and simply asks us to keep paying it forward. We come to his table knowing we are flawed and forgiven, knowing we are being offered spiritual food that strengthens us in love.

We come to Christ’s table for communion with him – but not only that. We come for communion with one another. Being a Christian is hard. No one can do it alone. We need each other.