Fine Young Criminals

My sister's coin purse bulged mockingly.  "You stole my money!"I shouted.
"No, I didn't."
I pointed to the empty piggy bank lying on the floor.  "It was right there when I left and now it's gone!"
"No it wasn't. I don't know what you are talking about." 
I fumed with impotent fury. I had no witnesses. She was two years older and stronger than I.  I knew she had taken my carefully saved pennies, but I had no way to prove it.  I stalked off in frustration, thinking "When I get to heaven, I'll ask God and he'll show me how you stole my money. Then I'll know!"


And then... I framed her. I drew the nastiest, most terrible picture my five-year-old mind could conjure, forged her signature on the bottom, complete with hint of Dyslexia: Ytak, and immediately brought it to my mother.


For a while, things were going swimmingly. My mother was sufficiently horrified by the drawing, and Katy's pleas of innocence were unavailing...


And then... Mom looked a little more closely at the drawing, collapsing my house of cards. I have always been a good artist, better at drawing than any of my siblings. My mom knew Katy couldn't draw well enough to make this picture. I was found out.


And then... In her horror at what my mind could manufacture, she invited our pastor over to the house and showed him my terrible drawing, deeply concerned for my mortal soul.


In the end, I was broke and completely embarrassed. Revenge never gets you what you want.


An interesting twist on this saga is that I forgot about the frame up. I remember the stolen money and my vow for heavenly truth. I remember the drawing and the embarrassment of the pastoral disclosure, but Kate was the one who remembered the defaming forgery. And she had completely forgotten about those lifted pennies.


Isn't it funny how a mind works? It's really easy for me to remember the times that people have been unjust to me. I have a long memory for the mean words spoken on the playground, poor parental advice, personal slights. But my memory is short for the ways I have hurt others. I have some cringe-worthy remembrances of my misdeeds, but a lot of it is vague and glossy.  By contrast, the wrongs done to me are often in high relief.


Lately, when I'm praying, God will bring me some of those glossed over follies. It's not for the sake of shame or guilt, but for sober reflection on the state of my heart.  Sometimes I forget that I am desperately in need of forgiveness.  When one of these old sins is brought to mind I am rightly humbled again.  It's a necessary slap in the face. I need to be forgiven. I have hurt others. I am at their mercy. I am at God's mercy.


These reminders also undermine my carefully stored injustices.  I don't know if this is true for anyone else, but replaying those past hurts can actually make me angry all over again. I can even get upset about those stolen pennies if I think about it long enough.  


And then the words from Jesus' sermon on Mount Olivet pierce right to my heart: "For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses." (Matthew 6:14-15 ESV)
Jesus takes our sin away as far as the east is from the west. He no longer remembers it.  Corrie Ten Boom says that he takes our sin and flings it into the ocean, and puts up a "no fishing" sign so that it will never be brought to the surface again.


But in the case of wrongs committed against me, I fish them out and examine them again and again. This is not forgiveness.  The sins against me still have power in my heart. Yet if I refuse to forgive them, than how can I be forgiven?


Someone always ends up footing the bill of injustice. It's either shouldered by the victim or paid off by the criminal. In our case, Jesus paid it all. He hasn't held our sins against us. If we are truly crucified with Christ (Galatians 2:20), it means that we are going to pay too. We are going to have to swallow pain and injustice and forgive. It is a very difficult thing to do.

I am learning, too, that forgiveness is never a one time thing.  Every time a bitter thought comes to mind about someone, I need to forgive that person afresh. I have to turn my thoughts away from remembering the sin, because it has been forgiven.  This is not easy, but it is like Jesus.

What does forgiveness mean? No more bringing it up.  No more fueling of anger. No more trying to make the other uncomfortable. No more manipulative guilt trips. Sometimes we think we've forgiven and then we see the person succeed and get angry. This is a sign that there is more work to do.


Forgiveness takes full stock of the wrong committed and says: "I will no longer hold this over your head. I will not harbor it in my heart. The slate is clean." And it may be that the recipient of forgiveness doesn't appreciate it at all. It doesn't matter. We still have to forgive.


The stakes are pretty high with this. I can't be forgiven if I refuse to forgive.  God is so gracious, but I can exclude myself from his grace.  


Lord help me to be a forgiver.  Erase my ledger of offenders. Erase my ledger of offenses.


Set us free from the tangle of sin.