And Be Thankful

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. (Colossians 3.15)

The Great Equalizer

Colossians is one of Paul’s trickier letters, if it really is his in the first place, which many scholars doubt. Given its date and stylistic variances, most probably one of his associates composed the epistle in Paul’s name. The tone is markedly more pastoral, unlike reliably authentic letters (e.g., Romans, 1 and 2 Corinthians), where Paul addresses ongoing issues with treatises that read closer to doctrinal briefs than spiritual counsel. Yet while the prose lacks his force and finesse, the content indubitably reflects Paul’s views. Fringe thinkers have confused the Colossians with teachings about divine hierarchies, legalism, and circumcision. After reasserting Christ’s supremacy as God Incarnate—and his ordained authority as their leader—in the first chapter, Paul (or “Paul”) disputes these toxic notions in the next chapter, and turns to pragmatic truth in chapter 3.

“Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things,” Paul says in verse 2—dismissing the extraneous doctrines as earthbound and unworthy of attention. In their place, He summarizes what should command the believer’s focus, prefacing it with this: “Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature.” (v5) In case we’re unsure “whatever” that is, he makes a list: sexual obsessions, greed, anger, malice, gossip, insults, and lies. Everything he cites spins off the urge to prove we’re better or more important by securing better or more lovers, money, or influence than others have. One-upmanship isn’t confined to secular life, either. The teachers Paul vilifies also tout superior levels of spirituality, piety, and ethnicity. This is impossible, verse 11 says: “Since Christ is all and is in all, there are no Gentiles or Jews, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarians, nomads, slaves or free citizens.” Nothing we’ll ever achieve or possess can raise us above anyone else. Christ is the Great Equalizer. Know we’re all equal and don’t forget it, Paul says.

Called to Peace

Although the false doctrines foisted on the Colossians run the gamut from impenetrably abstract to imperviously literal, they share a common thrust—claiming exclusivity as God’s elect. In verse 12, Paul assures the Colossians their equal acceptance is secure and reorients them to what’s truly important. He writes, “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.” Instead of demanding the impostors correct their thinking, he places the onus on us to disarm advocates of religious elitism and discrimination with tender care. “Bear with each other,” he says. “Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.” (v13-14) With this, equality acquires a much weightier significance than same status. Being chosen, holy, and dearly loved people carries certain expectations and responsibilities. There is no high road and low road to choose between; there’s only one road. It’s level and accessible to all. And it leads to peace.

“Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace,” verse 15 says. Whether triggered by base cravings or high-minded ideals, efforts to prove our superiority to others inevitably end in strife. Somebody always gets hurt—and most often it’s us. We weren’t called to prove anything. We were called to peace. When we give Christ’s peace complete rule of our hearts, it governs our desires as well as thoughts and feelings they produce. It overrides compulsions to compete with those trying to belittle us and destroy our faith. We speak peace to the confusion they generate by responding with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. We tolerate and forgive, and most of all we love—not to convince anyone we’re better, but being convinced we’re no better than anyone.

Mercy and Grace

The third chapter of Titus, another Pauline epistle of questionable origin, houses a passage very similar to Colossians 3. It encourages us “to slander no one, to be peaceable and considerate, and to show true humility toward all men.” (v2) We’re reminded, “We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy.” (v3-5) This synchs up with Ephesians 2.8-9: “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.” Because of God's mercy and grace we’re saved. Even faith is a gift we receive, not a thing we can take pride in doing on our own. Before we get too caught up in how right and wonderful we are, we should take the last three words of Colossians 3.15 to heart: “And be thankful.”

Going into this thanksgiving season, let’s be thankful we’re no better than anyone else. Let’s express our gratitude for every opportunity to humble ourselves and extend compassion and kindness, gentleness and patience to others. Let’s thank God for this magnificent gift of faith to know His love, mercy, and grace are real—to offer forgiveness out of grateful hearts healed by His forgiveness. Let’s thank Him for His peaceful governance of our lives. We are His chosen people, holy and dearly loved. If no other blessings come our way, that’s more than enough to be thankful for.

Seeking status is a pointless endeavor that always ends in strife. Thank God for true equality in Christ.

(Next: In Word and Deed)

Postscript: Minor Changes

This past week saw the fewest posts of any week since Straight-Friendly launched in June 2008. In part, this was because it’s taken longer than I expected to bounce back from last weekend’s illness. It’s also due to the demands of maintaining a daily schedule in addition to personal and professional duties. Finally, I’ve needed to devote extra time proofreading Straight-Friendly: The Gay Believer’s Life in Christ, a book I wrote two years ago that prompted the blog. In the next two weeks I hope to announce it’s in print and available for purchase. (Pray with me about this, please.)

Consequently, I’m making some minor changes here, moving from a daily format to publishing posts every second day. Over time, the posts have grown to explore topics and texts in greater detail. No one is more aware than I of the burden this places on you by doubling the reading time of the earlier posts. It’s a lot to keep up with. Yet I also feel our conversation here is richer as a result. Slowing the frequency of the posts gives you more time to read and respond, and me more time to prepare them. It just makes sense all around.

I hope none of you will be disappointed by this and pray you’ll keep dropping by and commenting as always. You have made this place everything it is. I’m grateful to God and you for your faithful, enthusiastic support. And your satisfaction with it matters most of all. By all means, feel free to offer your thoughts about this change, pro or con. Straight-Friendly is a work in progress. Your opinion is of utmost importance.

Blessings always,

Tim

Words & Wisdom

Make up your mind not to worry beforehand how you will defend yourselves. For I will give you words and wisdom that one of your adversaries will be able to resist or contradict. (Luke 21.14-15)

Making Everyone Happy

Etiquette teaches us certain things should not be discussed in public. Money and sex used to push the boundaries of taste; no longer. Now, we avoid discussing religion and politics. But, like it or not, we talk about them all the time. Our faith and civic views filter into every other topic we discuss—including money and sex. If, for example, an issue regarding on-the-job protocol arises, our attitude will most certainly reflect our faith. We’ll be less concerned about what’s “fair” than doing the kind thing. Neighbors or relatives trying to recruit our support in their conflicts will be most unhappy when we counsel them to forgive and move on, instead of agreeing with them or joining their criticism of adversaries. One of the oddest ironies of following Jesus is how abstinence from entering conflict often ends up making enemies for us.

Too many people in the world ascribe to the idea “if you’re not for me, you’re against me.” They don’t realize “they” aren’t a deciding factor in how we conduct ourselves. Making them happy by agreeing with their opinions is secondary at best. The question we ask is, “Does what I’m agreeing with please God?” We’re naïve to believe making everyone happy makes God happy. What pleases others doesn’t always please Him. We do no one service by “not talking about religion”—a rather clinical injunction against faith-infused dialogue, if you asked me—when not confessing our beliefs causes us to float away on waves of harmful, incorrect thoughts and actions. Yet we also have to be aware that staying true to our commitment to God has the potential to put some relationships at risk. For example, telling someone whose heart is set on hating someone, “Well, the best you can do is just love and pray for them,” very well could result in likewise being hated. It’s a big price to pay sometimes. But not ever as big as the price we pay by compromising our faith “not to make waves.”

The Other Side

But there’s another side to this coin we also can’t forget. Staying true to our convictions and “making a stand” are not the same thing. Our God and our faith need no defense. And when we allow ourselves to be dragged into defending Him, our belief in Him, or our right to believe in Him we’re apt to fall into behaviors that are unbecoming to Him and us. Can anyone say anything to shake our confidence in God’s love and acceptance? No. Thus, it’s always best to allow them to speak their minds, answer with kindness, and let it go. How we comport ourselves will speak more than anything we can ever say. We love one another because Christ first loved us. Therefore, showing love in the face of adversity and criticism says more than any argument ever will persuade someone we are as loved and accepted as any other Christian.

Remember, in His day, Jesus and the disciples were the outsiders. Very few in their community and culture believed they were correct in their conviction that God loved all people equally. Everywhere they went, someone was pleased to tell them how wrong they were—and why they were wasting their time. Yet nowhere do we find Jesus yanking out Scriptures and pat arguments to defend Himself and His followers. When appropriate, He speaks to His adversaries’ charges with care and wisdom, offering insights to what troubles them. For example, when Pharisees reproach Him and the disciples for not conforming to hand- and dishwashing rituals, Jesus says, “What goes into a man’s mouth does not make him ‘unclean,’ but what comes out of his mouth, that is what makes him ‘unclean.’” (Matthew 15.11) The point behind the ritual is kitchen hygiene. But Jesus subtly turns the Pharisees’ logic on its head: they want to accuse Him of sin and He says dirty food isn’t the problem; dirty words—lies, curses, and deceit—are what should concern us. It’s an amazingly wise response. It changes the subject and answers the question in one sentence.

Irresistible and Sure

In Luke 21, Jesus tells us not to worry about defending ourselves. And the insertion of “beforehand” suggests we shouldn’t ever allow prejudices, attitudes, or cold shoulders to drive us away. We are free; He died to make it so. Sometimes we’ll knowingly enter situations where others may not want us or may challenge our right to be there. We should neither anticipate it nor worry about it. If that’s where we’re supposed to be, Jesus says He’ll give us the words and wisdom to handle ourselves fittingly. But we should hear him carefully—words and wisdom. Sometimes wisdom will mean “no words;” saying the wise thing won’t be the wise thing to do. So when we’re confronted we listen very carefully and respond with equal care, knowing that we’re representing Christ in this situation. We never have to prove we’re right; we only have to do what’s right. And if our words express or provoke anger—regardless how correct and scripturally sound they are—they are wrong. If we speak out of pride in knowing God loves us, we’re not speaking the truth in love. And condemning anyone ultimately condemns us.

The words and wisdom we receive from Christ, either by studying His example or attending to His Spirit, will turn our adversaries around. Jesus says they won’t be able to resist what we say or contradict it. That means we become, to a certain extent, irresistible and sure. Not a bad way to be. Not a bad way to live, either.

Words & Wisdom: not one or the other, though sometimes one without the other.

Saints

You who love the LORD, hate evil! He preserves the souls of His saints; He delivers them out of the hand of the wicked. Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart. (Psalm 97.10-11; NKJV)

The Daily Struggle

All Saints’ Day is when it happens. This kid from a tradition that doesn’t follow the liturgical calendar starts envying churches that do. Though he’s aware saints’ days and feasts occur regularly, they fascinate him more as Christmas comes into view. He feels cheated because his church delays its celebration until very near the actual date, while others celebrate Advent for weeks. And since those communions (unlike his own) also venerate saints, he somehow links the two. In a vague attempt to enter the Advent spirit, he opens Butler’s Lives of the Saints and Foxe’s Book of Martyrs and spends hours immersed in heart-stopping—sometimes blood-curdling—tales of faith. They strike him as perfect for the lead-up to Advent and Christmas, sort of like envisioning a parade of future Olympic champions during the torch’s odyssey to the host city. The amazing feats of courage and tenacity that spring from Christ’s birth make anticipating its celebration all the sweeter.

In effect, Hebrews 11 does this with its Who’s Who of Old Testament heroes—albeit as precursors, rather than the posterity, of Christian faith. After that, chapter 12 opens: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.” (v1-2) Since Hebrews was written, its “cloud” has expanded to include thousands of legendary examples—and millions of unsung ones—that also depict committed faith. Whether studying a ninth-century ascetic or observing a saintly life unfold in real time, we find a common element: the daily struggle to join Hebrews’ cloud of relentless believers by shaving away hindrances, defying weakness and fatigue, and focusing completely on Christ. Specifics that garner their acclaim—epiphanies and miracles, suffering and sacrifice—grow out of fierce resolve to overcome. The daily struggle is the thing. Ask St. Augustine which is harder, healing the lame or heeling the libido. He’ll tell you.

Deep Determination

Hebrews 12.1-2 isn’t intended as criteria for sainthood. It’s aimed at all of us. It clearly identifies strategies for winning our struggles and makes no bones about the daunting nature of our challenge. Many hindrances bogging us down we dearly love. We sought them and carry them voluntarily, which makes them twice as hard to let go. The same applies to sins that easily entangle us. If we didn’t enjoy them, we wouldn’t be susceptible to their temptations. This is a marathon that tests our stamina, endurance, and commitment every step of the way. There’s no gain in looking for applause from the sidelines, no sense in leaving the route in search of short cuts. To finish, we fix our eyes on Christ and stay as close to Him as possible. But while Hebrews paints a sharp picture of how we triumph over daily struggles, it’s pretty sketchy about where the impetus to triumph originates. Psalm 97.10 fills in the blanks.

“You who love the LORD, hate evil!” it shouts. And when all is said and done, that’s what daily struggle is—combat between deep determination to honor our Maker and nonchalance about dishonoring Him. In Matthew 6.24, Jesus says, “No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other.” Wannabe saints scour the print for exceptions to this rule and invent all sorts of extenuating circumstances to justify the easy thing versus the right thing. Deeply determined saints take Jesus at His word. “If you love me, you will obey what I command,” He says in John 14.15. It doesn’t get any plainer than that. Loving God as He commanded, with our entire heart, mind, soul, and strength, leaves no option to hating evil with equal passion—down to the tiniest urge to indulge harmful thoughts and behaviors in others or ourselves. The daily struggle is a two-fisted battle.

Join the Cloud

Words like hate, combat, and battle don’t appeal to sunny-side believers who’d rather retreat from conflict than resolve it. But ignoring the struggle won’t make it go away. If anything, it overshadows us, stripping the light and joy from our lives. Even then, however, some of us have got so adept at make-believe peace we simply toss a make-believe sun into the sky. And while we’re living the dream, we miss the sunny side of the struggle, the brightness we experience when we're intent on joining the cloud. The psalmist continues: “He preserves the souls of His saints; He delivers them out of the hand of the wicked. Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart.” (v10-11)

The struggle can be grueling. The choices it calls for can drain our energy and put us on edge. Confronting evil can leave us staring into the heart of darkness. Defying human nature can sap our sense of pleasure and turn our lives upside-down. But we press on, driven by unyielding love for God, deeply determined to join the cloud. He preserves our souls. He delivers us. His light breaks through. And despite the topsy-turvy misery around us, He rewards our upright hearts with gladness. That’s what happens when saints do what saints do.

The daily struggle to love God and hate evil with equal fervor is the common element in every saint’s story.

(Tomorrow: Words and Wisdom)

Personal Postscript: Thank You

I’m truly grateful to all who sent get-well wishes and held me in your prayers these past few days. I’m back on my feet, gaining strength by the hour, and happy to be back. Thank you so much.

Where's Tim?

Everyone, I so deeply apologize for disappearing over this weekend. I came down with a real lulu of an upper respiratory tract infection that's kept me in bed since late Thursday night. I'm on the mend, but not quite 100%. So rather than try to make sense in this fog, I'm going to finish getting well and come back strong. (Hopefully by Tuesday.) Please bear with me, and I ask you keep me in your thoughts and prayers.

Blessings always,

Tim

Little Ones

I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven… See that you do not look down on one of these little ones. (Matthew 18.3, 10)

Big Promises in Tiny Hands

My first Bible was a “children’s” Bible with a cover pastel of Jesus talking to girls and boys, plus a few glossy inserts depicting Noah and the Flood, David and Goliath, and other favorite stories. Beyond that, it was identical to my parents' Bibles: a King James Version printed in two columns on tissue-thin stock. Mom and Dad weren’t averse to the Bible storybooks our friends’ parents were so crazy about. But neither did they encourage them. They wanted to expose us to the real thing right away. They believed we should learn to hold its big promises in our tiny hands, even though our minds weren’t yet old enough to grasp them. Thus, before we started school, we already knew how to clumsily sound out the King’s English to match scriptures we quoted by heart.

If memory serves, the first verse I learned to quote was Mathew 19.14: “Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God”—Christ’s response after the disciples rebuke parents who ask Him to bless their children. Where Matthew (per Mark’s lead) places the incident is of interest, as it appears soon after Jesus talks about child-like faith in Matthew 18. He starts the lesson by calling a child to Him, leading us to interpret His interjections about “little ones” refer to actual children. Turning the page to find Him welcoming toddlers appears to reinforce this. Yet Jesus’s tone and approach confirm He’s speaking about adults—about us. He deftly endorses open-minded innocence while adding caution against condemning it. In essence, He says holding big promises in tiny hands isn’t easy. Those with experience and knowledge must not crush others who seem to reach beyond their grasp.

Jostling for Position

An ego crisis sets the stage. The disciples ask Jesus, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” (Matthew 19.1) It’s a silly question. Jesus has shown no preference among them. Asking if that will change in the future exposes their insecurities. It also ignores Christ’s law of inversion—the last come first, the least count most, and so on. The disciples either don’t get it or won’t accept it. In prior discussions, Jesus focused on the principle. Now He appears concerned the disciples’ competitive streak will harm other believers. Though they don’t realize it, they’re due to inherit Christ’s ministry in a matter of weeks. This obsession with status needs to be dismantled to prevent the future Church from becoming a hotbed of power politics. Jesus revises His teaching to include harsh warnings for anyone who leverages seniority and sophistication to intimidate newer, less knowledgeable Christians.

He stands a child before them, saying, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (v3) He reinforces His principle of inversion—“Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” (v4)—and drops a bombshell. Anyone who welcomes an innocent, inexperienced believer welcomes Me, He says. But anyone who wounds the faith “of these little ones” would be better off committing suicide. Jesus tells us to pinpoint and remove what compels us to condemn weaker-minded Christians. “If your hand or your foot causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away,” He says (v8), stressing it’s better to enter Heaven as an amputee than suffer eternal punishment. “See that you do not look down on one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father,” Jesus instructs. (v10) His point is made. Condescension has no place in God’s kingdom. Jostling for position over those who don’t grasp the faith as firmly as we do only defeats us. Their place in Heaven is already secure.

Equal, Not Identical

We are all equal in Christ, but none of us is identical. Some of us mature more quickly in our faith. Others grapple with the basics and never graduate to higher levels of learning. Many can only access faith by interpreting Scripture in its most concrete sense. For them, the truth must be immutably writ in stone. Just as many believers find faith by sorting it out, evincing solid truth from abstraction and granting inconsistencies to grasp inerrant principle. There are intellectually driven believers. There are emotionally driven ones. Some limit their confidence exclusively to what they find between the Bible’s covers. There are others whose confidence includes wide fields of scholarship, commentary, and thought. Finally, there are Christians—the vast majority, perhaps—who never outgrow the habit of being spoon-fed by priests, pastors, and teachers.

It’s peculiar how we find accepting our differences so hard, yet we use them so easily to undermine our equality. Instead of cherishing the faith we share, we’d rather fight about varying approaches and aptitudes that lead to faith. Everybody wants to prove he/she is more correct than the rest. Literalists deride rationalists as faith failures. Rationalists sneer at literalists as mental midgets. Seasoned believers think younger ones need to grow up. New believers think older ones have lost touch. And everyone is absolutely correct. We’re all challenged in some way. We’re all immature on some level. We’re all little ones.

Jesus finishes with the allegory of the shepherd who risks losing 99 sheep to rescue one that wanders off. Without the one, the herd is incomplete. “In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be lost,” Jesus says. (v14) I can’t allow my urges to drive you away, because I need you to complete my community of faith. You can’t afford to alienate me, because when I’m lost, your faith community is incomplete. We are all little ones humbled by what we lack. We all hold big promises with tiny hands. We all need love, tolerance, and protection.

Condescension has no place in God’s kingdom. We are all “little ones.”

(Tomorrow: Trying God’s Patience)

Axes Are For Floating

As one of them was cutting down a tree, the iron axhead fell into the water. “Oh, my lord,” he cried out, “it was borrowed!” The man of God asked, “Where did it fall?” (2 Kings 6.5-6)

What Good’s Being Free?

Cat Stevens’ “If You Want to Sing Out” recently rebounded in a T-Mobile spot that gets me hot and itchy every time I see it. Young people won’t pick up on what’s so utterly wrong with co-opting the tune to hawk phones. But if you’re near my age, the first two bars are enough to lull you back to 1971, where you’re swept up by memories of sunflowers, cemeteries, a 79-year-old eccentric on a motorcycle with a 20-something boyfriend perched behind her, and Stevens singing, “If you want to sing out, sing out. If you want to be free, be free.” Basically, you relive Harold and Maude, the most defiantly anti-Establishment romance ever filmed. After you come to, you probably don’t know any more about T-Mobile products than before. But you’re certain Maude would sneer at seeing Stevens’ ode to individualism and material detachment married to a phone commercial. Can’t you see her tossing Harold’s Blackberry down a sewer? I can. “What good’s being tied up all the time when you’re free?” she’d say.

Maude took being free to madcap extremes. And while her ideals leaned toward the nutty side, her refusal to be captivated by things is a trait we all can learn from. In 1 Timothy 6.7, Paul writes, “We brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.” Freedom is our beings’ basic instinct. We lose touch with that by hanging on to life’s clutter as if it were ours, when everything we have is on loan. False pride of ownership in what God entrusts to us or overestimating its personal value costs our beings’ freedom. In verses 10 and 11, Paul says, “People who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge men into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.” Holding on to our beings—the truth of who we are and the purpose God created us to fulfill—is what being free means. What good’s being free when we’re constantly tied up?

Flying Off the Handle

The first seven verses of 2 Kings 6 report a minor incident that teaches us material possessions can interfere with our freedom any time, even when we’re occupied with higher endeavors. The prophet Elisha’s renown has surged to the point the company of prophets following him has grown too big for its meeting place. They suggest relocating to the Jordan, where there’s plenty of room and timber to build a larger edifice. “Go ahead,” Elisha says, which disappoints them. They want to show how loyal and industrious they are. So he tags along. With everyone working as hard as he can, one prophet proudly swings away with his axe and, suddenly, its iron head flies off the handle and into the river. “Oh, no!” he cries. Elisha saunters over to see what the problem is. “What am I going to do? It’s not even mine. I borrowed it.”

If we factor in the uncommon aspects of the prophet’s situation, we see how ludicrous his response is. He’s a prophet. He routinely watches God fix impossible problems. He’s surrounded by prophets and led by the greatest prophet of his day. He belongs to a faith community blessed beyond capacity. And he’s literally working for God when the axe-head comes loose. All of this is so obvious that worry seems like the least reasonable response. But he’s really worried. And what does this to him? A borrowed thing he no longer holds or is likely to hold again. With one swing, his freedom in serving God’s purpose goes flying off the handle as well. None of this fazes Elisha. “Show me where it went,” he says. The prophet points out the spot. Elisha cuts a branch off a tree, throws it in the river, and the axe-head miraculously bobs to the surface.

The Short List

On the short list of eternal significance, who we are, where we are, what we’re doing, and whom we’re with will outrank what we have every time. When we lose sight of this, things start flying off the handle. We realize what we’ve lost was never actually ours. Freedom vanishes and we become worry’s slaves. In panic, we cry for help. Of course, none of this fazes God. What He knows about axes we couldn’t begin to imagine. All this while, we’ve held on to them, thinking they weren’t good for much else than grinding and chopping big things down to size. But God’s got no use for grinding axes. He doesn’t chop things down; He builds them up. Besides, He doesn't need to, as nothing's bigger than He. If we get overly caught up in what we have, it’s a strong possibility He’ll see fit to prove the total value of what He’s leant us by demonstrating how little we really know about it. How we view axes isn’t like He sees them. Our limited vision looks at what He's given us in terms of its potential to do things for us. He focuses on His power to do the impossible with what we have. In His eyes, axes are for floating, too.

If we put too much faith and importance in what we’ve been given, we may end up finding out how little we really know about it.

(Tomorrow: Little Ones)

Debt Resolution

If you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins. (Matthew 6.14-15)

An Essential Tool

We’re apt to think of forgiveness as a principle, when it’s more accurate to view it as an essential tool every bit as powerful and effective as prayer, Scripture, good deeds, and meditation. We use forgiveness to pry loose clamps of hatred and resentment binding our minds. Then, turning to our hearts, we use it to break padlocks of fear and worry so we’re able to love those we forgive. Love is the principle. Forgiveness activates it. This is true for everyone, including God. It’s inaccurate to believe Jesus died simply to purchase pardon for sin. Yes, forgiveness for all—regardless of nationality, religious standing, and every other contrived impediment—is available through Christ’s sacrifice. But Calvary’s purpose exceeds forgiveness. It remains the purest portrayal of love the world will see. “God loved the world,” John 3.16 says—not, “God forgave the world.”

In light of this, might we make too big a deal of forgiveness, and thus make it harder than it actually is? How many times do we say, “I know I should, but I just can’t find it in my heart to forgive So-and-So”? Perhaps we can’t find forgiveness in our hearts because we already hold its power in our hands. Of course, admitting struggles to forgive implicitly confesses doubts about loving those who’ve wronged us. Particularly with enormous, unresolved debts owed to us, we estimate love will cost more trust and hope than we can (or care to) sacrifice. This is hard to accept, if only because we want to love others as Christ taught. We want to live by His example. So we justify reticence to love by citing incapacity to forgive.

Expecting Future Increase by Exempting Former Debts

If we detach the two, we can train ourselves to use forgiveness as a tool to facilitate love instead attempting to use love to prove forgiveness. Forgiveness functions much like bank checks. It promises eventual settlement of unreconciled accounts. It’s presented in good faith, expecting love's future increase by exempting its former debts. Seeing forgiveness as the first step toward debt resolution, rather than all-or-nothing restitution, achieves two things. It eliminates the need to delay forgiving others until we’ve amassed enough love to absorb previous losses—because, spiritually or financially, that’s all forgiveness is: repaying what’s owed us at our expense. Then, relieved from making the full debt “whole” (another financial term replete with resonance), we honor our promise gradually, offering love and trust as needed. Here’s where forgiveness proves its real strength and value. Every debt must be reassessed as it’s addressed. Some turn out less severe than we recall, others much worse than we thought. But from the most to least traumatic, our pledge to forgive constrains us to find sufficient love to compensate for what’s owed us. As much and as long as it takes, we get the job done.

Isn’t this how Calvary works and God forgives? The cross ensures pardon for our past and future sins. Any time we err, we look to the cross in full confidence God will find love He needs to make us whole. In Hebrews 4.16, we’re urged to ask forgiveness without hesitance: “Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need.” God sealed His promise of forgiveness the instant Jesus died. But He honors it by meting out mercy and grace as we need it. By learning to forgive like God we learn to love like Him. Forgiving freely and loving fully at the same time expects more of us than we expect of Him. Is it any surprise we struggle to find enough love to forgive people who’ve deeply hurt us? There’s probably not room in our hearts to contain the love needed to pay all of their debts at once. So we forgive in advance and pay as we go, replacing love we sacrifice for those we’ve forgiven (note: past tense) with love we receive from God in reward for asking His forgiveness.

Out-In, Give-Receive

The out-in, give-receive dynamic is rudimentary to following Jesus. He quashes any possible doubt about this by opening His first major discourse, the Sermon on the Mount, with an eight-point manifesto that explicitly states sacrifice defines reward. Impoverished spirits gain heavenly riches. Mourners find comfort. Humble people earn earthly honor. And so on—including, those who give mercy receive mercy. The rest of the Sermon basically expounds on these points in greater detail, piquing interest in where Jesus ties each attribute to certain situations and behaviors.

He links forgiveness to prayer—The Lord’s Prayer—setting aside the bulk of its content to zero in on one phrase: “Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” (Matthew 6.12; again: past tense) He enlarges on this in verses 14 and 15: “If you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” Jesus provides no wiggle room for mitigating circumstances, rare exceptions, or other alibis for withholding forgiveness. Extending mercy to others predicates obtaining mercy from God. The 1:1 reciprocation appears too obvious for further thought. Yet if we maintain ability to forgive hinges on adequate love to back it up, Jesus’s later thoughts about it are misplaced. They should land at the end of chapter 5, where He builds on the eighth Beatitude (enduring unjust persecution) by charging us to love our enemies. But forgiveness goes unmentioned in context with unconditional love. There’s just no ambiguity here. We forgive others to be forgiven. We love in obedience to Christ's command. The two are related, but not interdependent. Forgiveness promises to make love whole. Love makes good on forgiveness’s pledge over time.

Hat-tip to Rev. Harvey Carr for his inspiration.

Forgiveness promises to make outstanding debts whole and love steadily delivers, reassessing and reconciling each debt as needed.

(Tomorrow: Axes Are for Floating)