On Receiving and Believing Forgiveness

What are the most significant words ever spoken?

Maybe, "Let there be light."

Or perhaps, "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness."

Of course you would only believe these words to be truly significant if you believed that the Creator of all things actually did speak them, and that this was in fact effective speech. That, in truth, it was God who said, "Let there be light," and then there was light!

If you don't believe all that, fine. You might still consider the words significant (in a sociological way), but perhaps no more so than, say, the kama sutra. Words, any words, take on a certain power, a certain effectiveness, when they are believed. Even when a lie is believed, it effects things. This is something demagogues understand well. And obviously the demagogue (or any commonplace liar) is only believed because we have mistakenly deemed him or her worthy of our trust. See, what we think about the one speaking will have a great deal to do with how we receive the words spoken.

But if God had never said, "Let there be . . .", there would never have been a universe in which demagogues could mislead people. That's another level of effectiveness entirely.

But getting back to the original question, here's another candidate for most significant.

"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

These words were spoken by Jesus of Nazareth while he was being nailed, hands and feet, to a wooden stake by Roman soldiers, almost exactly 2000 years ago.

But what didn't they know they were doing? They knew, certainly, that they were killing a man. This was an officially sanctioned execution. What they didn't know, I think, was who the man was that they were murdering.

Remember, these words are the more significant if they are truly effective. And their effectiveness rests, to a great extent, on who Jesus was (and is) and why he allowed himself to go to that stake. If, in fact, he is the Son of God, and if his purpose is what the Bible says it was, these are words then which have a similar effectiveness to "Let there be light," or, "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness."

Jesus is opening the door, from the agony of the cross, to a new creation. He is saying, in essence, "Let there be . . ." all over again. He is saying, "Let the image in which we created them--even these who are crucifying me--be restored."

Magnificent words. Significant words. Amazing to think they were spoken over those men who were in fact at that point carrying out his brutal execution.

But again, there is another side to this coin of significance. If the significance of these words is to be realized, the words must be believed. Believing is what makes influential communication possible, but not all acts of communication are worthy of belief.

These words of Jesus, though, are fundamentally worthy, because Jesus is worthy. Because Jesus is who he is, his words do what the do.

But here's the rub. There seems to be something in us, something in our nature, something deeply ingrained in us, that reacts against these words of Jesus. I am speaking now of believers, people who call Jesus Lord. Yet, who have trouble believing themselves forgiven. Believing that the words of Jesus are in fact effective for them.

Someone can write a book, and maybe should, about why this is so. But I have no doubt of the remedy. We should frequently remind ourselves of who Jesus is and what he has done. We should remind ourselves that this was always the plan of God, even before he said, "Let there be. . . . " God is effective. He speaks, and things happen. He brings to pass his will, and cannot be denied, and it is his will to restore his creation, and even its pinnacle, man, to what he had intended. And he has chosen to make this happen through forgiveness, offered and received.

It is the season now to remember this. Something lifts from the shoulders of the forgiven man or woman. Something that had clouded his vision is removed. Something that had hindered her steps is taken away.

One of my favorite people in the Bible is a Roman centurion who had taken part in the execution of Jesus. This man, who must have seen a lot of dying in his day, saw the way Jesus died and heard the words Jesus spoke even in the midst of his agony (and, we might add, saw the effects that his death precipitated in the very creation) and it caused him to believe something shocking: "Surely this man was the Son of God!" [see Matt. 25:54]

Note, he did not say, ah, so now I am forgiven. He said, "This man must be God!" Receiving forgiveness depends on just this recognition. The "good news" begins here. Jesus is God!

On Default Positions

Have you ever noticed that holiness is not the Christian's default position? In other words, sin is not an occasional lapse for us born agains, who are otherwise strikingly moral and righteous to the core.

For example, you decide you're not going sit in the seat of scoffers any longer. You do pretty well with that for a day or too, and give yourself a little pat on the back, informing your friends of another holiness echelon you've just achieved. But then, well, a day comes when, without even noticing, you slide back into the old patterns. Easy as sipping milk.

Or, on a more positive note, you commit yourself to letting your light so shine before men that they praise their Father in Heaven. By the end of the week, taking stock, you have to admit that no one has praised their Father in Heaven because of your little light. What happened?

This problem . . . you'd think it would garner more attention among us than it does. Sin remains the default position of the flesh. We have no grounds for triumphalism, even the subtle kind where we teach others by way of our own stellar example.

Reading Mark 2 this morning, I notice that Jesus, though he's healing folks right and left, doesn't seem to think that illness is the main problem he came to solve. Apparently, sin is the main problem. It's just something you notice again and again when you read the Gospels. Sin is a much bigger issue for Jesus than it seems to be for us. We preoccupy our prayer time asking for healing, comfort, and special favors for our children, when our need for forgiveness is the real issue.

In additon: Read Greg Gilbert on the Cross and the Kingdom. This is a more thorough and judicious unpacking of the same point. In a nutshell,

it is the cross—and the cross alone—which is the gateway to the blessings of the kingdom. That’s how you put all this together. You don’t get the blessings of the kingdom unless you come into them through the blood of the King. Therefore if you preach a sermon or write a chapter on the good news of the kingdom, but neglect to talk about the cross, you’ve not preached good news at all. You’ve just shown people a wonderful thing that they have no right to be a part of because they are sinners. That’s why we never see Jesus preaching, “The kingdom of God has come!” No, it’s always, “The kingdom of God has come! Therefore repent and believe!” He didn’t just preach the coming of the kingdom. He preached the coming of the kingdom and the way people could enter it.

Why do we so often preach (and write and talk) about kingdom realities (like healing), at the expense of the Cross?

Enduring, abounding, all-satisfying grace!

You hear it all the time. People say, "I know that God has forgiven me, but I'm still having trouble forgiving myself."

I understand that people really do believe this when they say it. They believe they have diagnosed their problem sufficiently to explain their lack of joy, their depression, their inability simply to move on. They are trapped, they realize that much, and they sincerely believe they will break free once they learn to forgive themselves.

But they're wrong. However plausible it may seem, it's a dark and nasty lie. They're confused and deceived. The devil has kicked sand in their eyes. They're operating in a fog. They have added . . . listen to me . . . they have added to the grace of God.

In fact, they've created an idol of their own self-forgiveness. Something on which they place an even higher value than on what Christ has accomplished on their behalf. The thing is, that's a sin, and unless they understand it as such, repentance will remain far from them, which is a crying shame.

I speak for many. I speak out of experience. I speak with authority. I have said those things. I have operated in that fog. I have carved that idol and set it up in a special corner of my heart.

Listen. Here's how God smashed it to smithereens. He said, Son, listen to me carefully. I am your creator, God almighty. I don't mess with half-measures. My declarations are not ineffective. My works are not fruitless. Go back to the cross, son. Go ahead. Go back and hear the lacerated dying Jesus say, "Forgive them, Father. They don't know what they're doing." Wait, stay there longer and here him say with his dying breath, "It is finished." Then walk away from that place saying, "Yeah, okay, but I still have to learn to forgive myself..."

Listen! Don't you dare presume to add anything to what Jesus has called finished. Don't you dare! As if you needed something more than my forgiveness! As if my mercy were not sufficient! If you are not satisfied with what I give, you have no part in me! Turn again, and receive what I continue to offer, that for which the whole universe longs: enduring, abounding, all-satisfying grace!