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| The Chosen Season 4, Episode 5: Matthew 5:39-41 |
Forgiveness is not giving
yourself over to the attacker;
it's giving yourself over
to another way of being.
A way that disempowers the threat.
Forgiveness is not passive
or laissez-faire;
it is fiercely engaged:
"I am willing to forgive ... "
+ Love Over Fear
In the final chapter in the book I wanted to finish reading before the school year starts this week, Love Over Fear: Facing Monsters, Befriending Enemies, and Healing Our Polarized World, Dan White chose to focus on forgiveness in a way that I continue to see as distinctly and desperately needed in my life and in 21st century American Christianity as a whole. The entire chapter reminded me of this quote by Celestin Musekura in Forgiving As We've Been Forgiven: Practices for Making Peace that I continue to come back to:
If Christ is risen, death is defeated.
Even our deepest hatred
can be transformed into love.
Read on to learn more and at the end of the post see how the picture above relates to forgiveness.
Forgiveness Tells a New Story
Jesus provides practices and responses of forgiveness that are disruptive. They are infused with "I will not devolve into your way of speaking, of hurting, of mocking, of gossiping, of shaming, or humiliating," nor "will I repay evil with evil but evil with good."
Jesus is inviting His disciples into writing a new story, a new way of engagement, powered by forgiveness. We cannot choose what hurt and pain happen to us, but we can always choose how to relate to what happens to us.
Part of forgiveness is finding
a new story to live by
rather than the one given to us
by those who hurt us,
gossip about us, oppose us,
lie about us, and hate us.
Living by the old story
draws us into the
same practices that hurt us.
Leaving the standoff of "Us vs. Them"
means shifting from the status
of the victim to the one voluntarily
pouring out love.
This shit is a shift of power.
Power does not emanate from someone
with the loudest mouth
or the biggest sword;
it originates from the agency of love
by God's Spirit.
To live in a new story,
we must see ourselves differently.
Jesus is reframing the story, the characters, and their roles.
Who Rules Your Story?
Typically, the one who has been wronged rehearses their offenses, over and over and over again. This replay is our grievance story that stirs up our Crock-Pot of desire for vindication. Psychologist Joan O'C Hamilton explains this story:
Initially, a grievance story is simply one's
version of what happened. But over time,
it can become something more malignant
— a detail-packed, often obsessively
repeated, subtly or not-so-subtly
distorted account that embellishes
the role of a villain who is
responsible for one's misery.
Researcher Fred Luskin states,
"The problem with our stories
"The problem with our stories
is they always focus on 'them'
— the other person —
and why he won't change
or what she won't do.
That gives them power
they shouldn't have."
The constant focus and attention
on the insult and the offender
gives them absolute power over us;
they rule the story.
Who rules your story?
Do you want to live by the narrative
of vindication and vengeance rather
than generosity and grace?
I concede there is a moral high
when we punish someone
who has wronged us.
But it is an addiction like
crack cocaine that will
string us along into death.
Jesus is flipping the story of who holds power. Forgiveness is not powerlessness; it actually might be the only thing powerful enough to transform your enemy. Jesus is giving us insight into the monsters. We see them as desperate, as one who stands before you and pleads, without actually saying it, "Help me, give me the one thing that can overcome my hate, my fear, give me love, the love of Jesus." When we become the forgiver, we begin to disrupt the cycle of who holds power.
Releasing Goodness
To forgive could feel like surrender, a retreat in the context of a battle. But Jesus offers us forgiveness not as a white flag but as a weapon. Wonder of wonders — God suffered for us instead of exacting suffering on His enemies. Jesus absorbed our sin, our grief, and our injuries. We begin to see ourselves dealing with others the way God deals with us, releasing goodness — full of compassion, flowing in mercy.
It is not God's judgment
but God's kindness
that leads to repentance,
a change of heart
(Romans 2:4).
Can forgiveness
change our enemies?
Shauna Hodges woke one morning, peered out the window, and was startled by the oversized Confederate flag waiving on her neighbor's porch. Shauna and her neighbor Mike had always been on different pages politically, creating some awkwardness in their exchanges, but never in conflict. Shauna is a black churchgoing mother. Mike is an Irish churchgoing grandfather. Shauna is single, and her house is filled with baby toys, piled-up dishes in the sink, and Cheerios littering the floor from her two-year-old.
Mike's home is filled with memories from his life — pictures of his grandkids, a medal of honor hanging over the fireplace mantel, and his well-worn recliner where he reads the Sunday newspaper. They come from different worlds and conveniently stayed out of each other's way, but this flag hanging on Mike's porch really stung Shauna; a daily reminder of slavery every time she walked outside. She did not want her child to see it on a regular basis. What could she do?
She asked her church small group for counsel. Enraged, a few of them began to plan how to rip it down under cover of night. A few others said to "just ignore it," and maybe he'll take it down after a while. None of their answers resonated.
With courage and kindness, she walked across the street to have a conversation. He did not answer the doorbell; with trembling hands she scribbled a note and left it: "Hi neighbor, I'd like to invite you over to get a cup of coffee, and chat about your flag." She carried a pit in her stomach as she waited for his response; two long weeks went by.
As she was taking a walk with Gracian, her son, on a Saturday afternoon, she noticed Mike pull into his driveway, so she bolted to his house like the paparazzi. She was there with a forced smile to greet him as he exited his car. Mike made it clear he was not interested in connecting. She pressed, "I'm not your enemy; I just want to talk." He relented, "Fine, tomorrow."
Knocking on his door the next day, she wished she had never started pushing this snowball down the hill; it felt bigger than she was. As he let her in, she saw the signs of life, pictures of grandchildren, newspapers stacked, and war paraphernelia on the walls.
They talked for an hour, nibbled on muffins she baked, laughed some, and shared about kids, and grandkids and eventually talked about the flag. He was stubborn, but she was able to unfold a bit of why it hurt her. Relenting halfway, "I'll take it down for you, even though it doesn't make a lick of sense." A few days later, the flag came down. Shauna put a little gift basket on his porch, with a blueberry pie, and another note: "I want you to know how much it means to me." Over that following year, a relationship began to sprout. He shoveled her driveway once when she was snowed in. He even offered to watch her kid if she ever needed a break.
In an urgent moment, she took him up on his offer, while Gracian was taking a nap. When came home to relieve Mike of his babysitting duties, Gracian was still sleeping, they lingered awkwardly at the dining room table. Mike broke the ice: "I've been thinking about the flag thing." He began to see that the flag communicated racism. Then the bombshell: "Honestly Shauna, you are the first black person I've been friends with." Mike was reconsidering who he was and who she was. Shauna's overtures of affection had started breaking the cycle of polarization.
From the outset, Shauna had decided she would forgive Mike for his disparaging feelings toward black folks, the unknowing insensitive remarks that leaked out of his mouth. Christ's words rang in her ears: "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." Though she initially feared him, she sought to disrupt him with friendship. She positively spoke truth to him, but it was wrapped in connection and compassion. This changed his world.
The Burning Coals
Neuroscience has proven that pummeling your ideological enemy with factoids and arguments will not change your enemy's mind. Shauna's practices toward Mike and the Jesus-practices of forgiveness (see Matthew 5:39-41, pic at the top from The Chosen, and Walk the Extra Mile below) go far beyond tossing information; they give space for the wrongdoer to feel something different, to see us no longer as their enemy, but as a human.
Jesus' kenotic-love
did not demand reciprocity;
it did not seek to control
the outcomes,
but it did seek to
affectionately win us over,
to make friends of those
opposed to Him.
"If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head" (Romans 12:20). Here the apostle Paul is giving us some guidance for those who are hardheaded. As we read this, one portion sticks out: "heap burning coals" on an enemy's head. What did he mean by this?
The most dramatic picture we have of burning coals touching our body comes from Isaiah 6:5-7, an act of mercy, of God's initiative to ease Isaiah of his anxiety in God's presence. God, in essence, is saying, "You've done a lot of things that have offended Me, stuff you probably can't even recall, but I forgive you, I want to be near you." These coals are a symbol of God's preemptive forgiveness, an action of God to be near us, with us, close to us.
The coals in this passage are placed on Isaiah's lips because he has already verbalized his wrongs ("Woe is me!"). The coals Paul speaks of in Romans are placed on the head, not on the mouth — the hardness of the head vs. the openness of the mouth. This act of forgiveness (heaping hot coals) isn't given to one who asks for it; they might actually be closed off to it.
The passage about
heaping hot coals on the head
is about the emotional discomfort
an enemy will experience
when you waken their conscience
through affection;
when they feel kindness
in the face of their meanness.
heaping hot coals on the head
is about the emotional discomfort
an enemy will experience
when you waken their conscience
through affection;
when they feel kindness
in the face of their meanness.
We cannot manipulate
someone's response.
We can only heap hot coals
on their head hoping that
they feel the love.
A Jesus-Practice of Forgiveness:
Walk the Extra Mile
The audience Jesus is speaking to has a boot on their neck, upwards to 80% of their income is taken from them in taxes, which keeps them in poverty. According to Roman law, a soldier could command you to carry their gun and gear, so you had to submit. The law limited it to one mile as to prevent soldiers from creating permanent servants on the road.
Jesus says when this happens to you, keep going after the one-mile mark. The moment you enter into second mile. What is going on?
You are triggering something
that the enemy is not anticipating,
and you force the enemy
to see you differently ...
a human being with dignity,
agency, and the will to serve.
that the enemy is not anticipating,
and you force the enemy
to see you differently ...
a human being with dignity,
agency, and the will to serve.
Your humility invites the one
who sought to humiliate you
into humbling themselves.
Jesus exceeds combating our enemy
into awakening our enemy.
into awakening our enemy.
Love Over Fear:
The Aikido of Forgiveness
+ pgs. 200, 203-213
Bonus Forgiveness Post:
Next Post:
Other 2024 Reading Recs:
With presence and peace in Christ,
Rev. Mike “Sully” Sullivan
Email Pastor Mike | Website | Visit Us | Support Us | Facebook Us
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