It would be easy to go on enumerating difficulties, but long as the
enumeration might be, Christ's command would still remain in all its
explicitness, the Divine obligation would be in no way weakened. We must
forgive; we must forgive from our hearts; and there must be no limit to
our forgiveness. Nor is this all. The whole law of forgiveness is not
fulfilled when one who has done us an injury has come humbly making
confession, and we have accepted the confession and agreed to let
bygones be bygones. We should be heartless wretches indeed, if, under
such circumstances, we were not willing to do as much as that. But we
must do more: "If thy brother sin against thee, go, show him his fault
between thee and him alone; if he hear thee, thou hast gained thy
brother." We, we who have been wronged, must take the first step. We
must not wait for the wrong-doer to come to us; we must go to him. We
must lay aside our vindictiveness, and earnestly, patiently, making our
appeal to his better self, by every art and device which love can
suggest, we must help him to take sides against the wrong which he has
done, until at last forgiving love has led him captive, and our brother
is won. This is the teaching of Jesus. Let me suggest, in conclusion, a
three-fold reason why we should give heed to it.
Let us forgive _for our own sake_. A man of an unforgiving spirit is
always his own worst enemy. He "that studieth revenge," says Bacon,
"keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well."
"If thou hast not mercy for others," says Sir Thomas Browne, "yet be not
cruel unto thyself; to ruminate upon evils, to make critical notes upon
injuries, is to add unto our own tortures, to feather the arrows of our
enemies." There is no misery worse than that of a mind which broods
continually over its own wrongs, be they real or only fancied. There is
no gloom so deep and dark as that which settles on a hard and
unrelenting soul. And, on the other hand, there is no joy so pure, there
is none so rewarding, as that of one who, from his heart, has learned to
say, "I forgive." He has tasted the very joy of God, the joy of Him of
whom it is written that He delighteth in mercy. Just as when a sea-worm
perforates the shell of an oyster, the oyster straightway closes the
wound with a pearl, so does a forgiving spirit heal the hidden hurt of
the heart, and win for itself a boon even at the hands of its foe.
Let us forgive _for our brother's sake_. "What," asks George MacDonald,
"am I brother for, but to forgive?" And how much for my brother my
forgiveness may do! All love, not Christ's love only, has within it a
strange redemptive power. We often profess ourselves puzzled by that
hard saying of Jesus concerning the binding and loosing of men's sins.
Yet this is just what human love, or the want of it, is doing every day.
When we forgive men their sins, we so far loose them from them; we help
them to believe in the power and reality of the Divine forgiveness. When
we refuse to forgive, we bind their sins to them, we make them doubt the
love and mercy of God. Have we forgotten the part which Ananias played
in the conversion of Saul of Tarsus? St. Augustine used to say that the
Church owed Paul to the prayers of Stephen. Might he not have said, with
equal truth, that the Church owed Paul to the forgiveness of Ananias?
For three days, without sight, and without food or drink, Saul waited in
Damascus, pondering the meaning of the heavenly vision. Then came unto
him, sent by God, the man whose life he had meant to take: "Ananias
entered into the house; and, laying his hands on him, said, Brother
Saul, the Lord, even Jesus, who appeared unto thee in the way which thou
earnest, hath sent me." "_Brother_ Saul"--how his heart must have leapt
within him at the sound of the word! It was a voice from without
confirming the voice within; it was the love and forgiveness of man
sealing and making sure the love and forgiveness of God. Wherefore, let
us take heed lest, by our sullen refusal to forgive, we be thrusting
some penitent soul back into the miry depths, whence, slowly and
painfully, it is winning its way into the light and love of God.
Let us forgive _for Christ's sake_, because of that which God through
Him has done for us. When, day by day, we pray, "Forgive us our
trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us," what we are
asking is, that God will deal with us as we are dealing with others. Do
we mean what we say? Are we showing a mercy as large as we need?
Chrysostom tells us that many people in his day used to omit the words,
"As we forgive them that trespass against us." They did not dare to ask
God to deal with their sins as they were dealing with the sins of those
who had wronged them, lest they brought upon themselves not a blessing
but a curse. And would it not go hardly with some of us, if, with the
measure we mete, God should measure to us again? Yet there is no
mistaking Christ's words: "If ye forgive not men their trespasses,
neither will your Father forgive your trespasses." Therefore, let me
think of myself, of my own sin, of the forgiveness even unto seventy
times seven which I need; and then let me ask, can I, whose need is so
great, dole out my forgiveness with a grudging hand, counting till a
poor "seven times" be reached, and then staying my hand? Rather, let me
pray, Lord,
"Make my forgiveness downright--such as I
Should perish if I did not have from Thee."
"Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and railing, be
put away from you, with all malice; and be ye kind one to another,
tenderhearted, forgiving each other, even as God also in Christ forgave
you."
"O man, forgive thy mortal foe,
Nor ever strike him blow for blow;
For all the souls on earth that live
To be forgiven must forgive,
Forgive him seventy times and seven:
For all the blessed souls in Heaven
Are both forgivers and forgiven."
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