But what about the wife?

As I kind of expected, the response to the post about forgiveness that used Philip Yancey as an example had a mixed response.  Many 100% on the side of forgiveness and moving on in grace, mercy, and such.

And then there were those who felt sorrow or even outrage about how those (specifically his wife) impacted by Philip Yancey's decisions were overlooked or dismissed as irrelevant to the discussion.

In fairness, they were irrelevant to that post because it was about how forgiveness is ridiculous, over the top, undeserved, and often not fully practiced by a lot of us, even when we think and hope we are.

To some degree, the responses displayed the point being made: how hard forgiveness is and the wide range of opinions that people - believers and non-believers alike - can have about what it looks like.

Some people want a pound of flesh -- some revenge, pain, or shame to be given -- for the person who has asked for forgiveness to not be released from the heat of the moment without everyone getting a swing at them.

Doesn't matter if God forgives, they don't. At least not yet.

And it makes them a little suspicious about a God who'd "let someone off" with what they feel is a slap on the wrist and a sweeping under the rug of the whole thing.

________________

And that brings up the very hard question: "What about all the people who are left in the wake of sin - even God-forgiven sin - who often seem overlooked and left on their own to heal; if they even can?"

________________

Before we answer that question, did you know that some of the Psalms in the Old Testament have the word "Selah" at some point in them?

It's an instruction to pause and think deeply and/or to increase the volume of the music being played with the Psalm and/or for an instrument to be played by itself.

Kind of like a really good guitar solo. Or something like that.

If this post could be written like a Psalm, I would 100% do that at this point in the post.

Mine would be a montage of hard rock, metal, rap, and edgy bluegrass/country songs that talk about vengeance, payback, being done wrong, sadness, rage, and people getting what's coming to them.

I say that so you know I don't write about this from a vacuum of nice, soft, easy-going, puffy-cloud, condescending K-Love style/churchy interactions that always wrap up with nicely with a bow.

I know what it's like to witness and experience violence and abuse from those who you'd like to think were there to love you the most and protect and care for you, but didn't.

I know what it's like to be inside a religious system that, with the best of intentions, will throw a person under the bus and back over them a few times.  

And the driver is usually someone who is just "doing what's best for the Kingdom/congregation".

I know what it's like for people to look at you and assume/act like "you're all good" when you know they know you're not, but they've got other things to do and so you are on your own.

And I know lots of others who have experienced that and/or worse.

And that's the short list.

_______________

I know what it's like to feel betrayal and rage and to want to yell at someone endlessly for making decisions that damaged or cheated me and others, and then to curb stomp them. 

People need to be able to vent and express pain, hurt, injustice, and all that.  

In a big way.  

If you read the Psalms, you'll see that. 

You see that with Jesus' attitude when he cleared the temple of all those who were doing noisy business in the only place that the Gentile people could come and worship.

You see it when the apostle Paul is speaking about some people who did him wrong or betrayed him and left him behind.

_______________

One of the reasons that some people don't feel good about the whole forgiveness discussion is because they don't or didn't get the chance to say they were wronged.  

They don't get to express how hard it is or has been to heal, work through, or grow with the wound they've received.

Their offender might have gotten a harsh consequence, but they, as the offended or the wounded, didn't get to speak. 

Or if they did, it was a footnote. 

It was a consolation prize that didn't do anything to console. 

They still live with it today and will always.  

People won't know about their struggle.  

People will possibly remember the scandal and how the offender was in the spotlight, but the offended will limp on into the shadows to nurse their own wounds.

Some people will say that's being way too heavy about this.

Others will say this barely scratches the surface.

_______________

"Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy" Proverbs 14:10

_______________

Institutions protect themselves.  There are times that people in politics, business, religion, education, etc are given a pass because they're too important for keeping the institution safely moving ahead.

It doesn't matter what your lean or preference is - conservative, liberal, libertarian, or the flying-spaghetti monster party - institutions protect themselves.

I've lived long enough to witness it happen from just about every walk of life, from every subcultural group, and from every economic level - people protect certain people if they feel they have reason to.

That usually means that, if it's helpful, some insiders and power-holders will turn a blind eye or lawyer up or manipulate a situation in whatever way needed to make sure proper damage control occurs.

Sometimes it actually means the opposite - that some people get tossed to the wolves very quickly and that a person isn't protected at all - if it's expedient for the institution.

They can be "big people" who are in important roles or "small people" who happen to know enough of the right people they can call to protect them.

There are 100% times when it looks like everyone is getting away with murder, especially those who look like someone who hurt us or someone we love.

It happens.  

And it will keep on happening as long as their are people, institutions, groups, networks of people, or any kind of organization where power and influence is more important than those who are wronged by it.

It's in some of those situations where some people shake their heads and say, "See, they're getting away with it!  Sure they 'got into trouble', but what about the people in their wake?  What about people who'll never have their lives repaired or justice done while this slimy piece of work keeps going?"

Sometimes those observations are pretty spot on.  

Sometimes those observations are partially true.  

And sometimes those observations are projections from people who have been hurt and now assume that whole groups of people or certain slices of life are always wrong and unredeemable and, very importantly, unforgivable, and must always be spoken against, torn down, and covered in shame.

And some observations are relative to who each of us is.  

Some people who have hurt me are likely people that you'd think, "Nah, there's no way they would hurt someone.  Surely you just misunderstood or were immature or something."

And vice versa, some people who hurt you are possibly people that I'd think, "Surely not!  I need to hear more of the story before I'd believe that!".

_______________

I don't know Philip Yancey or his wife.  I've heard from some that, behind the scenes, all the right things are happening and that they are working together to rebuild things and that she has a great support system and doesn't think he is the devil, etc.

I do know that regardless of what is said, some people won't care what Yancey or his wife says or does - he'll remain unforgiven to them because it's important for them to keep their own boundaries up, maybe for reasons they don't know or understand yet - maybe because they still have their own work to do as they process the pain someone else handed them.

Selah.

_______________

For those who are angry and frustrated and whose heart hurts for those who have been offended or sinned against and are deeply concerned for them...

Know that God sees them and is with them.  

Follow me here...

Usually the person who has "come forward" and asked for forgiveness is the one we see in the spotlight.  

At times we might assume that because "the sinner" is in the spotlight that it's only them that God is with and is forgiving them and ministering to them, etc.

We might assume that God sees "the sinner" as being more important than their victims and that the consequences the victims continue to face are "gonna be fine on their own; y'all quit worrying about it..."

But that's 100% not true.  

God doesn't look at our headlines, social media, news releases, church services, and other gossip sources like we do - he sees everything for what it is without our filters.

People pick things to focus on and we sometimes confuse what a church, organization, political party, or random person says or does with what God is doing or what God is focused on.

Just want to clarify here that it's not true.  Some people actually still believe that it is and it's just not.

So, know that even if someone's pain and suffering is not being focused on in situations like that, know that God is not unaware and he is fully with them and working with them.

Also, know that seeing "the sinner" be outed, even if by their own choice/words, it IS at times helpful for the victim. 

Sometimes it is something they agreed to or even asked for to help them be able to move on and process.

It clarifies that something was done wrong against them. It can name the offense when the offense was previously vague, unknown, or misunderstood in some way.

_______________

We sometimes want people who have hurt us to know our pain and see what we see and feel what we feel that they put us through, but it's not going to happen.

We can imagine similar things being done to the person who wronged us so they "get" what they did to us, but that is us projecting our feelings and understandings on to them.

With some exceptions, there are a lot of people who "do wrong" and have no idea they are doing wrong, don't think it's wrong, or have any concern about what they're doing.

Sometimes, Jesus' words from the cross, "Father, forgive them because they don't know what they're doing" are the most accurate -- even if frustrating and exasperating -- thing to hear, know, and remember.

There are times the best we can do is be with people who have been hurt and walk with them with a lot of wisdom, grace, and mercy.

Don't assume that piling on in outrage against the one who did the person wrong is the best thing because it feels good to you and others are doing it.

Get to know that person and what they're going through as an individual and do so with great care because you could do even more damage in your good intentioned "being on their side".

More on that in the future.  Maybe.

________________

Before leaving that completely - a quick follow up note about forgiveness.

Forgiveness can be complicated.  

You need to know what you mean by it.

A lot of people will talk about forgiveness, but don't know where they're coming from or where other people are coming from and they end up talking past each other.  

It's like two people disagreeing about which rules to follow while they're each playing a different game.

Not everyone forgives the same way. 

In the Old Testament, which Jesus was still teaching under in the Gospels, he said to forgive others so that you'd be forgiven.

When Peter, one of his followers, asked (in Matthew 18) how many times they had to forgive someone and suggested a generous seven times, Jesus said, "No, not seven times, but seventy times seven" to which, in Luke's account (in chapter 17), the disciples said, "Increase our faith!".

Forgiveness was very transactional.  If you broke a law or sinned, you offered a sacrifice or did a ritual to become clean again.  Once a year, the high priest did a big sacrifice to cover over or atone for everyone's sin, so it was rolled forward till the next time.  

Under the New Covenant, we are told to bear with one another and forgive each other as God, in Christ, forgave us.  

Paul said in Romans 5 that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.  John said that Jesus took away the sins of the world, not just those of us who believe, but of the whole world.

Forgiveness in the New Covenant wasn't just to "let bygones be bygones".  Forgiveness required the death of God to settle the score, to remove the disease, or to win the battle over all evil.

Forgiveness is free from God because he paid a heavy price for it, on purpose.  

It is the removal of all the debt we might have had between us and God.  We have been reconciled to him (2 Corinthians 5) and he's not longer counting sins against us (1 Corinthians 13).

We are called to forgive as God forgives us.  

And sometimes we're just called to bear with each other.

Sometimes it meant/means putting up with someone's personally irritating or offensive behavior or approach to life that isn't necessarily as a sin, it's just that we don't like it.  That's "bearing with" someone.

All that is said as a reminder that not everyone who quotes a scripture or sounds "church like" when using the word forgiveness are always speaking the same way.

Some people simply do not believe in forgiveness.

Some people believe in forgiveness, but are in enough pain and need enough boundaries for healing that you might confuse their survival skills with non-forgiveness, but it's not.

A lot of church people and non-church/non-believer kinds of people sound exactly alike when it comes to how they talk about forgiveness and it's NOT a good thing at all.

A lot of non-church/but believing people sometimes sound like they understand and/or "get" forgiveness more than a lot of people who claim to be believers/church people.

Listen to their words.  

Watch their actions.  

See what Jesus and his followers said about forgiving AND how they led and instructed people to interact with each other.

Peace and goodwill.

________________

The following story is from Corrie Ten Boom, a Holocaust survivor that I still struggle with to this day.  I'd love to hear your thoughts about it:

It was in a church in Munich that I saw him, a balding heavyset man in a gray overcoat, a brown felt hat clutched between his hands. People were filing out of

The basement room where I had just spoken, moving along the rows of wooden chairs to the door at the rear.

It was 1947 and I had come from Holland to defeated Germany with the message that God forgives.

It was the truth they needed most to hear in that bitter, bombed-out land, and I gave them my favorite mental picture. 

Maybe because the sea is never far from a Hollander’s mind, I liked to think that that’s where forgiven sins were thrown.

“When we confess our sins,” I said, “God casts them into the deepest ocean, gone forever.”

The solemn faces stared back at me, not quite daring to believe. 

There were never questions after a talk in Germany in 1947. 

People stood up in silence, in silence collected their coats, in silence left the room.

And that’s when I saw him, working his way forward against the others. 

One moment I saw the overcoat and the brown hat; the next, a blue uniform and a visored cap with its skull and crossbones.

It came back with a rush: the huge room with its harsh overhead lights, the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the center of the floor, the shame of walking naked past this man. 

I could see my sister’s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were!

Betsie and I had been arrested for concealing Jews in our home during the Nazi occupation of Holland; this man had been a guard at Ravensbrück concentration camp where we were sent.

Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out: “A fine message, fräulein! How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!”

And I, who had spoken so glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand. 

He would not remember me, of course–how could he remember one prisoner among those thousands of women?

But I remembered him and the leather crop swinging from his belt. 

It was the first time since my release that I had been face to face with one of my captors and my blood seemed to freeze.

“You mentioned Ravensbrück in your talk,” he was saying. “I was a guard in there.” No, he did not remember me.

“But since that time,” he went on, “I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well. Fräulein”–again the hand came out–“will you forgive me?”

And I stood there–I whose sins had every day to be forgiven–and could not. 

Betsie had died in that place–could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking?

It could not have been many seconds that he stood there, hand held out, but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do.

For I had to do it–I knew that. The message that God forgives has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. “If you do not forgive men their trespasses,” Jesus says, “neither will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses.”

I knew it not only as a commandment of God, but as a daily experience. 

Since the end of the war I had had a home in Holland for victims of Nazi brutality.

Those who were able to forgive their former enemies were able also to return to the outside world and rebuild their lives, no matter what the physical scars.

Those who nursed their bitterness remained invalids. It was as simple and as horrible as that.

And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart. 

But forgiveness is not an emotion–I knew that too. 

Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart.

“Jesus, help me!” I prayed silently. “I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling.”

And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me. 

And as I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. 

And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.

“I forgive you, brother!” I cried. “With all my heart!”

For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely as I did then.

And having thus learned to forgive in this hardest of situations, I never again had difficulty in forgiving: I wish I could say it! 

I wish I could say that merciful and charitable thoughts just naturally flowed from me from then on. But they didn’t.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned at 80 years of age, it’s that I can’t store up good feelings and behavior–but only draw them fresh from God each day.

Maybe I’m glad it’s that way. For every time I go to Him, He teaches me something else. I recall the time, some 15 years ago, when some Christian friends whom I loved and trusted did something which hurt me.

You would have thought that, having forgiven the Nazi guard, this would have been child’s play. 

It wasn’t. For weeks I seethed inside. 

But at last I asked God again to work His miracle in me. And again it happened: first the cold-blooded decision, then the flood of joy and peace.

I had forgiven my friends; I was restored to my Father.

Then, why was I suddenly awake in the middle of the night, hashing over the whole affair again? My friends! I thought. People I loved! If it had been strangers, I wouldn’t have minded so.

I sat up and switched on the light. “Father, I though it was all forgiven! Please help me do it!”

But the next night I woke up again. They’d talked so sweetly too! Never a hint of what they were planning. “Father!” I cried in alarm. “Help me!”

His help came in the form of a kindly Lutheran pastor to whom I confessed my failure after two sleepless weeks.

“Up in that church tower,” he said, nodding out the window, “is a bell which is rung by pulling on a rope. But you know what? After the sexton lets go of the rope, the bell keeps on swinging. First ding then dong. Slower and slower until there’s a final dong and it stops.

“I believe the same thing is true of forgiveness. When we forgive someone, we take our hand off the rope. But if we’ve been tugging at our grievances for a long time, we mustn’t be surprised if the old angry thoughts keep coming for a while. They’re just the ding-dongs of the old bell slowing down.”

And so it proved to be. There were a few more midnight reverberations, a couple of dings when the subject came up in my conversation. But the force–which was my willingness in the matter–had gone out of them. They came less and less often and at last stopped altogether.

And so I discovered another secret of forgiveness: that we can trust God not only above our emotions, but also above our thoughts.

And still He had more to teach me, even in this single episode. Because many years later, in 1970, an American with whom I had shared the ding-dong principle came to visit me in Holland and met the people involved. “Aren’t those the friends who let you down?” he asked as they left my apartment.

“Yes,” I said a little smugly. “You can see it’s all forgiven.”

“By you, yes,” he said. “But what about them? Have they accepted your forgiveness?”

“They say there’s nothing to forgive! They deny it ever happened. But I can prove it!” 

I went eagerly to my desk. “I have it in black and white! I saved all their letters and I can show you where–” “Corrie!” My friend slipped his arm through mine and gently closed the drawer. “Aren’t you the one whose sins are at the bottom of the sea? And are the sins of your friends etched in black and white?”

For an anguishing moment I could not find my voice. “Lord Jesus,” I whispered at last, “who takes all my sins away, forgive me for preserving all these years the evidence against others! Give me grace to burn all the blacks and whites as a sweet-smelling sacrifice to Your glory.”

I did not go to sleep that night until I had gone through my desk and pulled out those letters–curling now with age–and fed them all into my little coal-burning grate. 

As the flames leaped and glowed, so did my heart.

“Forgive us our trespasses,” Jesus taught us to pray, “as we forgive those who trespass against us.” 

In the ashes of those letters I was seeing yet another facet of His mercy. 

What more He would teach me about forgiveness in the days ahead I didn’t know, but tonight’s was good news enough.

When we bring our sins to Jesus, He not only forgives them, He makes them as if they had never been.