Threads of Forgiveness

I've been reading an article from an excerpt of Ravi Zacharias' book, The Grand Weaver called "Threads of Forgiveness" and have found myself swimming in deep waters of thought.

Ravi writes about an encounter with a young lady who saw her father throw acid on her mother to mar her beauty and keep the mother from other men. Here is the excerpt:

While at a conference in another country, I was approached by a young woman, who asked if she could talk to me privately. Once we found a couple of chairs and sat down to talk, I learned that she was miles away from the land of her birth and had lived through some horrendous experiences. She had a beautiful mother, but her father, as she worded it, did not have the same admirable looks. Through an arranged marriage, they had begun their lives together, but the father always resented his wife’s looks and the many compliments given to her, while none ever came his way. His distorted thinking took him beyond jealousy to fears that some man might lure her away, and so he made his plan to snuff out any such possibility. One day, he returned home, and while talking to his wife in their bedroom, he reached into his bag, grabbed a bottle of acid, and flung the contents into her face. In one instant, he turned his wife’s face from beautiful to horrendously scarred. He then turned and fled from the house.

At the point of our conversation, two decades had gone by since mother and daughter had last seen him. The young woman, now in her twenties, had been a little girl when this tragic event took place, and yet the bitterness in her heart remained as fresh as the day she saw her mother’s face turned from beauty to ugliness—so hideous that it forced the little one to cover her own face so she wouldn’t have to see what had been done.

But the story did not end there. Just a few days before our conversation, the mother, who had raised the family on her own, had heard from the husband who had deserted her. He was dying of cancer and living alone. He wondered if she would take him back and care for him in this last stage of his illness. The audacious plea outraged this young woman. But the mother, a devout follower of Jesus Christ, pleaded with her children to let her take him back and care for him as he prepared to die.

Forgiveness is an act of obedience and is awfully tricky ground for a human heart to navigate. I have found myself going back and forth on the justification of my own indignation and the inability to release those indignities into the hands of God.

The minute I find myself wrapped in pride of having taking no offense, there are a handful of offenses I've gladly accepted into my heart and let them make a quite comfortable home. There is little doubt, on my best days, I'd be with the majority of this family in turning the father away. I'd turn him away with conviction and a teaspoon of pride.

Ravi goes onto write:

In this story, we see all the elements of the human fall and the power of a redeemed heart. Morality alone would dictate that he gets what he deserves.

A redeemed heart says, “Let me bind his wounds because what needs attention is his soul.” Morality alone says, “There is nothing reasonable in the man’s request.”
The redeemed heart says, “The reason by which we live is the heart of mercy that does not keep a ledger.” Morality says, “It’s all about whether you think it’s right or not.”
The redeemed heart says, “What would God have me do in this situation?” Morality says, “Make your own judgments.”
The redeemed heart says, “Don’t make a judgment unless you are willing to be judged by the same standard.”

In short, morality is a double-edged sword. It cuts the very one who wields it, even as it seeks to mangle the other.

The double edged sword we often wield has little to do with God's word and more with our offenses taken. The greatest offense ever wrought upon the heart of man is the Cross. Man's need for forgiveness and redemption are at the heart of any peace or joy we can find in this life, yet paradoxically, it appears there is more joy in keeping offenses while denying the power of redemption found at the Cross.

Perhaps it is to keep the barriers nice and strong, so our own hearts are protected from this sin soaked life. There is a fortress in our hearts we can build and if it were not so, I suppose the need for God being a Mighty Fortress might not ever need mentioning. But Psalm 46:1 does indeed mention it. God knew our hearts and he knows our little games we play to keep it in tact. Jeremiah 17:9-10 is quite clear.

I deceive myself when I build false fortresses. I wield a weapon in which I have little skill. Dangerous in my hands to myself and those around me.

Ravi continues,

I have often wondered if many who name the name of Jesus have missed this truth. I think, too, that in missing this, we miss the larger point often hidden in what appears to be the main point. When we stand before God, it would not surprise me to find out that the real point of the story of the prodigal son was really the older brother; that the real point of the good Samaritan was the priest and the Levite who went on their way; that the real point of the women arriving first at the tomb was that the disciples hadn’t; that the real point of the story of Job was the moralizing friends. Those who play by the rules sometimes think that this is all there is to it and that they merit their due reward. Yet God repeatedly points out that without the redemption of the heart, all moralizing is hollow.

In the garden it was not we who were set up but we who tried to set God up by blaming him for the situation and then wishing to redefine everything. Had we obeyed everything, we still would have lost if we had errantly concluded that we deserved what the garden offered. What, then, of the moral law in the believer?

Entitlement is a pillar of the human heart. If I do good, I want a reward. If I do bad, I want an excuse and someone else to blame. If someone else does good, I want to minimize the accomplishment and if someone else does bad, well, what did you expect with the way they live?

Ravi then cites C.S. Lewis' brilliant book, The Screwtape Letters:

C. S. Lewis has a remarkable little illustration in his book The Screwtape Letters. The senior devil is coaching the younger one on how to seduce a person who hangs between belief and disbelief in the Enemy (the Enemy here being God). So the younger one sets to work on keeping this man from turning to God. But in the end, after all the tricks and seductions, the individual is “lost to the Enemy.” When the defeated junior devil returns, the senior one laments and asks, “How did this happen? How did you let this one get away?”

“I don’t know,” says the young imp. “But every morning he used to take a long walk, just to be quiet and reflective. And then, every evening he would read a good book. Somehow during those books and walks, the Enemy must have gotten his voice through to him.”

“That’s where you made your mistake,” says the veteran. “You should have allowed him to take that walk purely for physical exercise. You should have had him read that book just so he could quote it to others. In allowing him to enjoy pure pleasures, you put him within the Enemy’s reach.”

The motivation in morality must be birthed from the Spirit of God and not ourselves. If it originates with ourselves than no glad handing is going to be enough. If I can earn anything, I will. I will feel very good about it. So good, in fact, I may make mention of it a few times.

I've found myself reading books to get quotes, to work out to look healthier and to pray to somehow please God. In each of those moments there is a distinct feel where I could point to a thought that escaped: "Isn't God pleased with me? Yes, He must be very pleased. I bet nobody else in the world can do this."

The danger of a self satisfying life is it is antithetical to a life that weaves threads of forgiveness. If I have no need to forgive because everyone around me is the problem and the source of my ills, why on earth would I need to forgive? Of course, that life also misses the biggest need of forgiveness (and the biggest offense taken, too) through Christ because of the offenses I've committed against the absolute Moral Being.

Ravi goes on,

Lewis’s brilliant insight applies to morality as well. Pure morality points you to the purest one of all. When impure, it points you to yourself. The purer your habits, the closer to God you will come. Moralizing from impure motives takes you away from God.

Let all goodness draw you nearer, and let all goodness flow from you to point others to the source of all goodness. God’s conditions in the garden of Eden were not a setup, any more than the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness was a setup or that the long journey to Egypt was a setup. God wants us to understand our own hearts, and nothing shows this more than the stringent demands of a law that discloses we are not God — and neither had we better play God. Once we understand this and turn to him, we find out the truth of what the psalmist wrote: “To all perfection I see a limit, but [the Lord’s] commands are boundless” (Psalm 119:96). True fulfillment and the possibility of boundless enjoyment come when we do life God’s way. When we do it our way, we only enslave ourselves.

 Is there anything more?