Anger
Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger,
harsh words, and slander, as well as all types of evil behavior. Instead, be kind to each
other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has
forgiven you. (Eph. 4:31-32)
Back in the 80’s,
a civil lawsuit was resolved short of trial.
The terms of the settlement required the Defendant, Kevin Tunell, to mail a
dollar every week to a family he'd rather have forgotten. They sued him for
$1.5 million, but settled for $936 – payable a dollar at a time. The family expected
the payment each Friday so Tunell wouldn’t forget what happened on the first
Friday of 1982. That's the day their daughter was killed. Tunell was convicted
of manslaughter and drunken driving. He was seventeen. She was eighteen. The
weekly restitution was to last eighteen years, one week at a time.
Few would
question the anger of the family; only the naive would think it fair to leave
the guilty unpunished. But this arrangement raised a concern. Is 936 payments
enough? Not for Tunell to send, mind you, but for the family to demand? When
they received the last payment, were they finally at peace? Was eighteen years'
worth of restitution sufficient? Was 196 months' worth of remorse adequate? How
much was enough? Had you been in the family, and if Tunell were your target,
how many payments would you have required?
No one makes it
through life free of injury. Someone, somewhere has hurt you. Like the
eighteen-year-old, you've been a victim, too. She died because someone drank
too much. And maybe part of you has died because someone spoke too much,
demanded too much, or neglected you too much. Everyone gets wounded; hence,
everyone has to decide: how many payments will I demand? We may not require
that the offender write us checks, but we have other ways of settling the
score. Silence is a popular technique. Distance is equally effective. Nagging is
a third tool for revenge. It’s amazing how creative we can be at getting even.
If I can soil one evening, spoil one day, foil just one Friday, then justice is
served and I'm content. For now. Until I think of you again … until I see you
again … until something happens that brings to mind the deed you did, then I'll
demand another check.
We think, I'm not about to let you heal before I do.
As long as I suffer, you suffer. As long as I hurt, you hurt. You cut me, and
I'm going to make you feel bad as long as I bleed, even if I have to reopen the
wound myself. Call it a bad addiction. We start the habit innocently
enough, indulging our hurts with doses of anger. Not much, just a needle or two
of rancor. The rush numbs the hurt, so we come back for more and up the dosage;
we despise not only what he did, but who he is. So we insult him, shame him or
ridicule him. The surge energizes. Drugged on malice, the roles are reversed;
we aren't the victim anymore, we're the victor. It feels good. Soon, we hate
him and anyone like him.
The progression
is predictable. Hurt becomes hate, and hate becomes rage as we become junkies
unable to make it through the day without mainlining on bigotry and bitterness.
How will the score be settled? How do I break the cycle? How many payments do I
demand? Peter had a similar question for Jesus: "Master, how many times do
I forgive a brother or sister who hurts me? Seven?" (Matt. 18:21)
Peter is worried
about over-forgiving an offender. The Jewish law stipulated that the wounded
forgive three times. Peter was willing to double that and throw in one more for
good measure. No doubt he thought Jesus would be impressed. Jesus wasn't. The
Master's answer still stuns us. "Seven! Hardly. Try seventy times seven."
(Matt. 18:22) Now, if you're pausing to multiply seventy times seven, you're
missing the point. Keeping tabs on your mercy, Jesus says, is not being
merciful. If you're calibrating your grace, you're not being gracious.
By this point
Jesus' listeners are thinking of the Kevin Tunell’s in the world. "But
what about the father who abandoned me as a kid?" "And my wife who
dumped me for a newer model?" "And the boss who laid me off even
though my child was sick?" The Master silences them with a raised hand and
the story of the forgetful servant. “The kingdom of heaven is like a king who
decided to collect the money his servants owed him. When the king began to
collect his money, a servant who owed several million dollars was brought to
him. But the servant did not have enough money to pay his master, the king. So
the master ordered that everything the servant owned should be sold, even the
servant's wife and children. Then the money would be used to pay the king what
the servant owed. But the servant fell on his knees and begged, ‘Be patient
with me, and I will pay you everything I owe.’ The master felt sorry for his
servant and told him he did not have to pay it back. Then he let the servant go
free.” (vv. 23-27)
This servant had
a serious problem. Somehow he’d amassed a bill worth millions of dollars. If he
could pay a thousand dollars a day for thirty years, he'd be debt free. Fat
chance. His debt was far greater than his power to repay. And the same is true
of us. Our debt is far greater than our power to repay. Our pockets are empty
while our debt is in the millions. We don't need a salary; we need a gift. We
don't need swimming lessons; we need a lifeguard. We don't need a place to
work; we need someone to work in our place. That "someone" is Jesus
Christ. "God makes people right with himself through their faith in Jesus
Christ. . . . God gave him as a way to forgive sin through faith in the blood
of Jesus' death." (Rom. 3:22, 25)
Our Master has
forgiven an insurmountable debt, but does he demand reimbursement? Does he
insist on his pound of flesh? When your feet walk the wrong road, does he
demand that you cut them off? When your eyes look twice where they should never
look once, does he blind you? When you use your tongue for profanity instead of
praise, does he cut it out? If he did, we’d be one maimed civilization. He
demands no payment, at least not from us. And those promises we make,
"Just get me through this mess, God. I'll never disappoint you
again." We're as bad as the debtor. "Be patient with me," he
pledged. "I will pay you everything I owe." The thought of pleading
for mercy never entered his mind. But though he never even begs for grace, he
receives it. He leaves the king's chamber a debt-free man. But he doesn't
believe it.
Later, that same
servant found another servant who owed him a few dollars. The servant grabbed
him around the neck and said, "Pay me the money you owe me!" The
other servant fell on his knees and begged him, "Be patient with me, and I
will pay you everything I owe." But the first servant refused to be
patient. He threw the other servant into prison until he could pay everything
he owed. (Matt. 18:28-30) There’s something seriously wrong with this picture.
Are these the
actions of a man forgiven millions? Choking a person who owes him a few bucks?
Are these the words of a man who’s been set free? He’s so occupied with the
mistake of his brother that he misses the grace of the Father. He demands that
his debtor be put in jail until he can repay the debt. Now that’s bizarre. Not
only is he ungrateful, he’s irrational. How can he expect the man to earn money
while in prison? If he has no funds outside of jail, will he discover some
money in jail? Of course not. What's he going to do? Sell magazines to inmates?
The decision makes no sense. But hatred never does. How can this happen? How
can one forgiven not forgive? How could a free man not be quick to free others?
Part of the answer is found in the words of Jesus: "The person who is
forgiven only a little will love only a little." (Luke 7:47)
To believe we
are totally and eternally debt free is seldom easy. Even if we've stood before
the throne and heard it from the king himself, we still doubt. As a result,
many are forgiven only a little, not because the grace of the king is limited,
but because the faith of the sinner is small. God is willing to forgive all.
He's willing to wipe the slate completely clean. He guides us to a pool of
mercy and invites us to bathe. Some plunge in, but others just touch the
surface. They leave feeling unforgiven. Apparently that was the problem of the
servant. He still felt in debt. How
else can we explain his behavior? Rather than forgive his transgressor, he
chokes him? "I'll squeeze it out of you." He hates the very sight of
the man. Why? Because the man owes him so much? I don't think so. He hates the
man because the man reminds him of his debt to the master. The king forgave the
debt, but the servant never truly accepted the grace of the king. Now we
understand why the Hebrew writer insisted, "See to it that no one misses
the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile
many." (Heb. 12:15)
Where the grace
of God is missed, bitterness is born. But where the grace of God is embraced,
forgiveness flourishes. In what many believe to be Paul's final letter, he
urges Timothy to "be strong in the grace we have in Christ Jesus." (2
Tim. 2:1) How insightful is this last exhortation. Paul doesn't urge Timothy to
be strong in prayer or Bible study or benevolence, as vital as each may be. He
wants his son in the faith to major in grace. Claim this territory. Dwell on this
truth. If you miss anything, don't miss the grace of God. The longer we walk in
the garden, the more likely we are to smell like flowers. The more we immerse
ourselves in grace, the more likely we are to give it. Could this then be the
clue for coping with anger? Could it be the secret is not in demanding payment
but in pondering the payment of your Savior?
Your friend
broke his promises? Your boss didn't keep her word? I'm sorry, but before you
take action, answer this question: How did God react when you broke your
promises to him? You've been lied to? It hurts to be deceived. But before you
double your fists, think: How did God respond when you lied to him? You've been
neglected? Forgotten? Left behind? Rejection hurts. But before you get even,
get honest with yourself. Have you ever neglected God? Have you always been
attentive to his will? None of us have. And how did he react when you neglected
him? The key to forgiving others is to quit focusing on what they did to you and start focusing on what God
did for you. But that's not fair! Somebody has to pay for what he did. I agree.
Someone must pay, and Someone already has. But
you don't understand. This guy doesn't deserve grace. He doesn't deserve mercy.
He's not worthy of forgiveness. I'm not saying he is. But are you? Besides,
what other choice do you have? Hatred? The alternative is not appealing.
Look what
happens when we refuse to forgive, "The master was very angry and put the
servant in prison to be punished until he could pay everything he owed."
(Matt. 18:34) Unforgiving servants always end up in prison. Prisons of anger,
guilt and depression. God doesn't have to put us in a jail; we create our own.
"Some men stay healthy till the day they die . . . others have no
happiness at all; they live and die with bitter hearts." (Job 21:23-25)
Hatred will sour your outlook and break your back. The load of bitterness is
simply too heavy. Your knees will buckle under the strain, and your heart will
break beneath the weight. The mountain before you is steep enough without the
heaviness of hatred on your back. The wisest choice – the only choice – is for you to drop the anger. You will never be
called upon to give anyone more grace than God has already given you.
During World War
I, a German soldier plunged into an out-of-the-way foxhole. There he found a
wounded enemy. The fallen soldier was soaked with blood and only minutes from
death. Touched by the plight of the man, the German soldier offered him water.
Through this small kindness a bond was developed. The dying man pointed to his
shirt pocket; the German soldier took from it a wallet and removed some family
pictures. He held them so the wounded man could gaze at his loved ones one
final time. With bullets raging over them and war all around them, these two
enemies were, for a moment, friends.
What happened in
that foxhole? Did all evil cease? Were all wrongs made right? No. What happened
was simply this: two enemies saw each other as humans in need of help. That’s forgiveness.
Forgiveness begins by rising above the war, looking beyond the uniform, and
choosing to see the other, not as an enemy or even as a friend, but simply as a
fellow fighter longing to make it home safely.
Grace,
Randy
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