Forgiveness

Our church is enjoying a thematic Lenten series from our Pastor on the last words of Christ. Each mid-week service’s sermon is focused on these utterances of Christ that have great benefit for us as we ponder them.

On Ash Wednesday, as we sat in the pew, it was difficult to realize that someone was missing. Someone who needed grace and forgiveness as much as the rest of us do. Someone who lost their way a long time ago but did a good job of hiding it for a long time.

As that uncomfortable thought settled into my brain, and our Pastor started in on his sermon, the emotions I tried for so long to keep at bay kept bubbling to the surface. This stoic Lutheran was losing it like it was a Pentacostal revival in full swing. And it seemed the harder I tried to quell those tears that sprang from a deep well of memories, thoughts, regrets, pride, sorrow and relief, the more those tears fell.

It was embarrassing to not be able to control my free flowing waterfall of tears, although it probably was about time.

Pastor’s sermon was about forgiveness. That essential element that allows relationships to continue and grow and stay healthy. From Christ’s words, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do,” we learn of Christ’s pastoral heart to the end.

As humans, we want to limit how much we are to forgive each other. We want to justify ourselves when we become unloving, and unlovable. However, for followers of Christ, we do not have an option to stop forgiving each other even though we are natural born bookkeepers when it comes to other people’s wrongs/sins. We learn to nurse our hurts as if it’s a family pet and we allow those feelings to swell into something large and seemingly beyond our control.

But Jesus, He has other ideas. He wants us to forgive in the midst of our deepest pain, in the midst of our feelings of abandonment. He points us always towards God’s love for us. Jesus seeks our pardon even when we act out of our own ignorance.

And so it is frustrating when that forgives lies beyond our grasp. When it is denied and withheld, ignored and rejected. And it is incredibly sad.

So I cried that night in church.