When You Arrive...

Not an especially theological theme today—although there is plenty to be theological about. Still not quite done with Stricken by God? yet, but I finished Brita Miko’s chapter the other day and read it again. Even though her’s is a narrative approach and dramatic, I was moved by the way she wrestles with the call for us to forgive as Christ does. I think, for me, it speaks in this way: when I move to a theological position, part of the struggle is understanding and accepting the practical ramifications of the position. And the non-violent love and forgiveness of God is packed with practical application.

I guess tonight I feel a little more devotional and personal. Miko’s chapter realized in me my own struggle with forgiveness. Basically her point is if the point of the cross is forgiveness, then Christ’s call to pick up our crosses means he is truly showing us how to live (forgiving as we’re crucified) as Christians. In her essay she wrestles with God’s offering forgiveness to a serial killer in her town.

I’ve been preaching (I have to admit, some of my best work) through Matthew and focusing on the profound counter-cultural, counter-political, even counter-ethical impact of Jesus’ life. My point has been that Jesus life and teaching is a critique of the world’s ways of doing things and EVERYTHING he does challenges EVERYTHING we already think. Inherent in that is a call to love, forgive, and refrain from judgment as Christ did and does. On a daily basis, I’m getting there. But I’m realizing just how much I’ve struggled with the events of my recent past.

Let me put it this way…the other day my closest friend called and asked how I was doing. I told him our church is doing well, we’re growing, we’ve improved financially (drastically), and we’re moving into a bigger location. They’re open to my preaching and I’m free to explore the Bible the way I read it. I don’t know where I’d find this kind of freedom in the pulpit anywhere in the area we moved from. I couldn’t ask for a better situation.

Furthermore, I told him I’m doing some adjunct teaching and it looks like it’s only going to open into more. I’m doing Old Testament Survey and have developed the course into an online course, so I’ll be doing the hybrid AND online Old Testament Survey course. This November I’ll do Old Testament Survey AND Life of Christ (I’m excited about that one) and I’ve worked with the guy writing the curriculum to develop a postmodern approach to it. I’ve even developed a pretty decent beginning to a friendship with him. Next spring I’ll be doing Understanding the Bible, and later Biblical Theology. As an adjunct in a new program, I couldn’t ask for a better situation.

On top of it, I explained that I’m doing some writing. I’m even publishing an article in Christian Standard November 2. I love writing, but until now I hadn’t met anyone who was very enthusiastic about my writing. It’s an opportunity to explore that option, something I’ve always wanted to do. I couldn’t ask for a better situation.

As our conversation went on I finally said, “Paul, I don’t know. I seem to be at the beginning, having opportunities I always wanted. I think I might be happy.” He laughed and said it sounded like I was waiting for it to fall apart. It was then that I realized that he is right. I am waiting for everything to fall apart. I’m not saying everything is perfect all the time, but I’m beginning to realize some dreams and I’m truly enjoying using all my gifts to do kingdom work. So I had to ask myself, “Why AM I also so scared?” Why is it that I keep putting pressure on myself not to make any mistake? The truth is, when I do make mistakes, I find myself panicking, expecting people to lose respect for me and pull their support—expecting them to question me at every turn and to oppose me publicly. And yet, the people around me continue to show me patience and support. I’m just still unsure how to handle it.

I think I know why. My last work experience was a negative one. I dealt with being judged, being denied forgiveness, and being constantly questioned as far as my maturity, dignity, and faith. As a result, I’m constantly waiting for failure and struggling with self-doubt where I am now.

Here’s the problem. Even though I’m now realizing the three biggest dreams I’ve had, I still struggle to be Christlike about the men who passed judgment on me and who caused me and my family so much pain. I still struggle with hoping that they fail and that they run into the kind of barriers to their success that they threw up in front of me.

However, when Jesus was on the cross he looked down at the people who were torturing him to death and made this statement, “Father, forgive them, because they don’t know what they are doing.” Now that I understand that the cross is not about God’s anger, but about mine, I realize that he is talking also about me. He is offering forgiveness to me. He is offering it to everyone. And his call to those who would follow him is to pick up a cross and do likewise. That means that my call is to forgive even those men who crucified me.

Why is that a problem? They aren’t crucifying me now. They don’t even think about me now. And, truthfully, God’s taken that screwed-up mess and made it 1000x better than it would have been if I’d had what I wanted there! (The only drawback is that we deeply miss some of the relationships we had in that place.) I’m doing everything I wanted to do (I’m not saying I’ve reached the end, but that I’m on the way to being who I really want to be). My family’s ENTIRE situation is better now. My crucifixion is over. Why is it that I still haven’t repeated Jesus’ words of forgiveness for my torturers? Why do I still relive it? Why do I still sometimes hope for their failure?

So, here goes. I forgive them. I recognize in them what God sees—limitless worth. Are they perfect? No. Does God love them even so? Absolutely. Does he want me to? Um,………….. well……………..yes. I don’t trust them and don’t want a close relationship. But I love them and forgive them (forgiveness and reconciliation are just not the same thing--until you get to Miroslov's chapter, and one of his comments that stood out to me is that complete forgiveness isn't really possible until justice is at least recognized). At any rate, I hope they succeed in Christ.

But I’ve been here already. Many times. And here’s my real struggle. I have every reason to believe I will be again. Because the truth is that forgiveness is possible, forgetting isn’t. And I can’t forget. I can’t wipe it away. And there are moments when it still hurts. Floods of emotion return especially when I have victories. That’s the most bitter part of it. When I should be really happy because of a success, I find myself saying, “See, you were wrong about me. What did you know? I CAN do it. I’m NOT who you said I was.” And what should be great moments become bitter moments.

I think I’ve concluded that, even though I’m moving in this non-violent direction, I’m still a violent person at heart. But what Miko proved to me is summed up in this quote in which she wrestles with God’s forgiveness of someone who would destroy someone else over and against her own desire to enact revenge upon the destroyer. I’m changing it in brackets to reflect my own struggle.

“I need you [she’s speaking to God] to be like me. We cannot be gracious to the one who annihilates the vulnerable. We cannot be gracious to these destroyers. Do you understand me, God? Do you know what you do? What is inside [them], is inside me. I could kill. I could kill even God, because of my beliefs.

“I do not want to have only these two choices.

“Your forgiveness would mean I either satiate my need for justice by killing you, or I forgive [them] with you and die myself. Your forgiveness leaves me with only two options. I become like [them] or I become like you. This is not what I want. I want a third option to be that we damn [them—or rather that they fail the way they set me up to fail]. You and I survive and [they fail]. (pg. 246, Brita Miko’s chapter in Stricken by God?).”

Of course, I can’t hope for their failure. That’s not forgiveness. Isn’t that what Jesus meant when he told his followers to deny themselves, pick up their crosses, and follow him? Doesn’t following him to the cross mean following him ON the cross? Doesn’t it mean that I MUST, somehow, move past these feelings that return all the time to me, and find a way to love them even though they STILL don’t recognize how they hurt me and my family? I think it does. But, honestly, I don’t even know if it’s possible. Somehow I’ve got to respond to them with the part of me that they didn’t damage, the part that God is using even now. And I’ve got to heal from all of that.

I feel like I’m finally arriving now. It’s like I’m finally becoming what I might actually be best at. And I’ve wondered for years what it would be like to have the options just open up and things start happening. I never dreamed it would be so bittersweet. And what makes it that is not what is good and noble and true, but the damage done to me from the past. Jesus, however, when he rose from the dead didn’t walk around with a chip on his shoulder towards the people who crucified him (me). He simply forgave them. He showed me how to get past it. I know I need to. I think I want to. I just don’t know if I can.

My prayer, Jesus, is just please help me be more like you.