Today's scripture reading comes from the book of Hosea.
We'll select passages from chapter 1 and chapter 3.
Please follow along in your bulletin.
The word of the Lord came to Hosea, the son of Beri,
in the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Judah,
in the days of Jeroboam, the son of Joash, king of Israel.
When the Lord first spoke to Hosea, the Lord said to Hosea,
Go take to yourself a wife of whoredom, and have children of whoredom,
for the land commits great whoredom by forsaking the Lord.
So he went and took Gomer, the daughter of Dublaim,
and she conceived and bore him a son.
And the Lord said to him, Call his name Jezreel,
for in just a little while I will punish the house of Jehu for the blood of Jezreel,
and I will put an end to the kingdom of the house of Israel.
And on that day I will break the bow of Israel in the valley of Jezreel.
She conceived again and bore a daughter.
And the Lord said to him, Call her name No Mercy,
for I will no more have mercy on the house of Israel to forgive them at all.
But I will have mercy on the house of Judah,
and I will save them by the Lord their God.
I will not save them by bow or by sword or by war or by horses or by horsemen.
When she had weaned no mercy, she conceived and bore a son.
And the Lord said, Call his name Not My People,
for you are not My people, and I am not your God.
Yet the number of the children of Israel shall be like the sand of the sea,
which cannot be measured or numbered.
And in the place where it was said to them, You are not My people,
it shall be said to them, Children of the living God.
And the children of Judah and the children of Israel shall be gathered together,
and they shall appoint for themselves one head.
They shall go up from the land, for great shall be the day of Jezreel.
Chapter 3.
And the Lord said to me, Go again, love a woman who is loved by another man and is an adulteress,
even as the Lord loves the children of Israel,
though they turn to other gods and love cakes of raisins.
So I bought her for fifteen shuckles of silver and a homer and a lethic of barley.
And I said to her, You must dwell as Mine for many days.
You shall not play the whore or belong to another man, so I will be to you.
For the children of Israel shall dwell many days without king or prince,
without sacrifice or pillar, without ephod or household gods.
Afterward, the children of Israel shall return and seek the Lord their God and David their king,
and they shall come in fear to the Lord and to His goodness in the latter days.
For the children of Israel shall return and seek the Lord and the Lord and to His goodness in the latter days.
And they shall come together and so on.
So I've been acting as the dad for the week.
They're my godkids as well.
But one of the things I learned about being a dad or having kids around is that,
especially when you've got to focus just on them,
and it's a two-year-old and a four-year-old that we're looking after.
And the four-year-old has been described, perhaps euphemistically, as spirited or rambunctious or a handful.
And so when we were taking them in and out of taxes and so on,
you know, I'm not the most organized person anyway,
and I can tend to be forgetful of, you know, my own personal belongings and so on.
So when there's kids around, right, and you're responsible for making sure they get in and out of the taxi alive,
then other things just kind of get left behind.
And so one of the things I left behind was my phone in the taxi last week.
And, yeah, it's sad to say we never heard from it again,
even though we kind of sent through a message through the network.
So if anyone's tried to call me or message me or text me or anything like that,
I apologize.
I haven't been able to get back to you.
So, yeah, I asked another taxi driver, and he said,
oh, I think I was about six hours later, and he said,
you know what, it's probably in Shenzhen by now.
So it's just gone.
I haven't had a great run with taxis, actually.
So we ended up in Hanoi last week.
And, yeah, trying to keep two kids alive in Hanoi, I felt like, was my main job.
I don't know if you've ever been to Vietnam or anywhere around in third world countries,
but, you know, you're walking down the streets,
and there's just thousands of motorcycles coming by you.
And normally you can walk on the sidewalk, so it's sort of okay.
But there was one street we went down which had no sidewalks.
And so we were basically walking amongst, through, and around the motorbikes,
and I just had to keep a firm grip on a rambunctious four-year,
and watch out for this as well.
When you end up in Hanoi, taxis try and scam you as well.
So sometimes it's just a couple of dollars or so on,
but on the trip back to the airport,
because we had all these kids and all the luggage,
and I was trying to make sure that everybody was going to be okay,
the guy just said, okay, I said, how much?
And he said, one and a half million dong.
And I just handed it over without even thinking.
And then I thought about, hang on a minute, that's 75 US dollars.
That's like five times as much as what I paid to get back out.
And so I sat back in the taxi and argued with him for the next five minutes.
And they threatened to call the police and all that kind of stuff.
And he gave me back like a third of it or something like that.
So then he charged me, he overcharged me three times instead of five times what he should have.
So Eric's going next week, so I'll have to tell him that story.
I don't think he's here.
But yeah, he has to make sure.
You know, I was pretty angry, actually, about that whole thing.
You know, I hate being cheated.
I think it just kind of runs in the family.
And yeah, you know, I was arguing with him.
And the conversation was getting pretty heated.
And he was making up all this stuff.
And yeah, and you know, afterwards, you know, I got out.
I just couldn't even look at him.
I just shook my head.
And, you know, I just wanted to, you know, shake him.
I said, what are you doing?
And it made me think about forgiveness.
Because that's what I was thinking about during the week, right?
And I didn't think about it until later.
But I was reading in Phil Yancey's book about grace, the story of Les Miserables.
Where, you know, right at the beginning, you know, Jean Valjean, the prisoner,
a hardened criminal over 20 years in jail,
goes and he stays at the priest's house and he steals.
And he's treated with kindness and grace to a thief.
He's shown forgiveness and mercy.
And because of that, his whole life is changed and transformed.
And so, yeah, it just made me think, you know,
how difficult it is for even us as people who have experienced grace
to continue to practice grace in the face of what we consider to be injustice.
Or when we feel like we've been wronged in some way.
There's a story of forgiveness that I heard as well one time.
And it goes kind of like this.
There was a husband.
And he was happily married to his wife.
And in a moment of madness,
he committed adultery one night against his wife.
And almost immediately, he regretted the terrible mistake that he'd made.
And he decided to come clean and confess to his wife what he had done.
And not knowing how she would respond,
he forced himself to do so,
stealing himself for what she might say.
Not knowing what she would say.
And her reply was this.
What you have done has really hurt me.
But I love you and I forgive you.
He couldn't believe his ears.
I mean, what could he say?
Was that it?
Could he be forgiven so easily?
Is it that easy to forgive?
In Hosea, we have a story of hurt and forgiveness.
And Hosea has been called the second greatest story of forgiveness in the Bible.
Because it points to the greatest story of forgiveness in the Bible,
which is found in the New Testament.
But in this part of Hosea,
we read about Hosea and Goma.
Goma, a promiscuous woman.
A woman of whoredom.
Who Hosea is told to marry.
And it seems strange to us that God would ask a prophet to do something like this.
But one thing that we need to understand is that the prophets
were God's spokespeople, spokespersons,
in the land of Israel at that time,
and other places as well.
And God sent many prophets to the land.
And as we heard from just a few weeks ago,
when Graham spoke about,
spoke on Amos.
Hosea and Amos were contemporaries.
And the land of Israel
had turned away from God.
They'd actually enjoyed a long period of peace and prosperity,
where riches had flowed into the land,
and the borders had expanded under King Jeroboam.
And in this time, even,
religion was expanding and booming,
but it was a religion which was not focused on God.
Instead, it was what they call syncretistic.
It was mixed in with the religions of all the other lands and places around them.
And so,
God sees this,
and His heart is torn apart,
broken,
because He sees a people
who have deserted Him
and gone to run other,
other idols,
run after other idols.
And so,
the prophets
embody
in themselves
God's message
within them.
To be a prophet,
to be a spokesman,
like the old children of prophets,
is to
almost identify with God
in such a way
that you feel what God feels.
If you want to know
what it's like to be an altarsome prophet,
you can read the words of Jeremiah.
And he said,
he talked about it like this,
if I say,
I will not mention His word
or speak any more in His name,
His word is in my heart
like a fire,
a fire shut up in my bones.
I am weary of holding it in.
Indeed,
I cannot.
God's word is like a fire
inside of the prophets,
and it must come out.
And in some cases,
the prophets,
even in their,
not just their words,
but their physical lives,
embodied the message of God,
embodied the heart of God,
the feelings of God,
communicating
what God wanted to communicate
to His people.
Hosea is one of those prophets.
And so he is commanded
to take
a wife of Hortum
and children of Hortum,
and
he commanded to do so
because Israel
has left
their God.
has become
unfaithful.
And so,
Hosea
marries,
it says,
Goma.
And
they get married
and
they have a child
together.
And after this child
is born
and some more children
are born,
Goma leaves
Hosea
for a new man,
a new life.
and God
tells Hosea
as well
the names
of the children
that He
is to name them.
And they are not
pretty names.
Jezreel,
the first one,
it's just the name
of the land
that
they were in.
But judgment
was coming
to that land
and that
was why
the name
was given.
The next ones
were named
perhaps in
accordance
with the fact
that they may
not have been
Hosea's children
at all.
No mercy
and not my
people.
And God
said that He
would no longer
show mercy
to the house
of Israel
and that
they would
not be
His people
anymore.
Because Israel
were the people
of God
chosen by God
and they were
to be His people
and He was
to be their God
but they had
wandered away,
had walked away,
had deserted Him.
And so God
in effect
broke the covenant
which He had
with Israel,
threw it aside
and said
you are not
my people
and I will not
be your God.
Well,
Gomer
leaves,
as I said,
Hosea
for a new man,
a new life
and yet
this new life
doesn't seem
to work out
in the way
that she had
intended
because she
sinks lower
in society
and eventually
hits rock bottom
when she is
placed for sale
on the slave
market.
She is reduced
to nothing,
owning nothing,
in fact not even
herself.
she is owned
by another,
the slave traders.
And this sad story
could have just
ended here
except that in
chapter 3
we're told
that God
tells Hosea
to go
and love her
again.
We're not told
what Hosea
thought about
kind of such
an instruction
but we can
imagine.
I think of
a friend
who
was convinced
that,
or who
suspected
that his wife
was emotionally
unfaithful
to him
and his fury
knew no bounds
as he suspected
everybody.
what were Hosea's
options?
Well,
he could have
just left her
there,
seen her at
the slave auction
market,
left her to
her own,
yeah,
to her fate,
laughed at her,
told her that
she deserved it.
or he could
have taken
her in,
brought her
as a slave
and brought her
in his house,
under his house
and exacted
his revenge
by taking
a new wife,
which he was
entitled to do
under Jewish law
and bring her
in as a slave
under new
management,
as it were,
so that she
could see
what she
once had
and missed
out on.
But that is
not what God
told him to do.
God told Hosea
to love her
again.
And so
he does so.
And you can
imagine what
his friends
and neighbours
have said
and thought
about all this
as they were
watching this
drama of
this prophet
and his wife
being enacted
out in
Israelite society.
perhaps they
would have
said,
Hosea,
you're crazy.
She doesn't
deserve your
love.
She doesn't
deserve
your
payment.
Why would
you pay
to take
back
this woman?
Don't you
remember?
She left you.
She took up
with someone
else.
She betrayed
you.
She doesn't
deserve
your love.
Yet Hosea
obeys God.
And he
goes and
talks to her
and rescues
her and
gathers the
resources necessary
to pay the
price for
her freedom.
him.
And when
he talks to
her, he
doesn't just
bring her
in as a
slave.
No.
He restores
her to a
position as
a wife.
She's fully
restored,
forgiven,
and he
resets as
well their
marriage
commitment.
He says
to her,
you must
dwell as
mine for
many days.
You shall
not play
the war or
belong to
another man.
So will
I also
be to
you.
It's a
recommitment
of their
marriage.
That once
again, she
will be
committed to
him and
he will be
committed to
her for
life.
Fully
restored,
their broken
marriage.
It's a
high price
to pay
as well.
The
resources that
were needed
to buy
her back,
the
humiliation
that he
would have
experienced,
that they
both would
have
experienced
from
friends,
family,
neighbours,
society.
The hurt
and anger
that Hosea
would have
had to
either bury
or just
kind of
assume
within him.
and the
prophet was
reenacting
the broken
covenant
relationship
between God
and Israel.
We read
chapter 1 and
chapter 3,
but between
them is
chapter 2,
where God
addresses Israel
directly and
speaks to
her and he
says to her
at that point
that she
is like
this woman,
an adulterous
woman,
and they
have become
an adulterous
people.
As it
says,
upon her
children I
will have
no mercy
because they
are children
of
wardom.
Their
mother has
played the
war.
She
who conceived
them has
acted
shamefully,
for she
said,
I will go
after my
lovers who
give me my
bread and
my water,
my will
and my
flax,
my oil
and my
drink.
She
shall
pursue
her
lovers,
but not
overtake
them.
She
shall
seek
them,
but not
find
them.
She
did not
know that
it was
I who
gave her
the grain,
the wine,
the oil,
who lavished
on her
the silver
and gold,
which they
used for
bail.
Therefore
I will
take back
my grain
in its
time and
my wine
in its
season.
I will
take away
my will
and my
flax,
which
were to
cover her
nakedness.
The
people of
Israel
were like
Gomer.
And the
prophet and
his wife
were just
kind of like
a microcosm,
an acted
story of
the wider
story that
all of
Israel shared.
And when
people looked
in and
asked why
is this
happening to
this prophet,
this man of
God,
then they
would know
that this is
because the
finger was
pointed right
back at
them.
You,
this is what
you have
done.
This is
who you
are,
are people
who have
forsaken
God.
And to
read Hosea,
and we
don't have
time,
obviously,
to read
the whole
book,
it's 12,
14 chapters,
something like
that.
To read
the whole
book of
Hosea is
to see,
to get a
peek into
the heart
of God,
possibly more
than any
other book.
And we
see inside
the heart
of God
is pain.
is broken
as his
heart is
broken
over his
people.
In
chapter 4,
verse 1,
I mean,
if you're
following along,
if you've got
phones and so
on,
I'll be
skipping around
and so on,
but just
for this
little while.
But in
chapter 4,
verse 1,
God says,
hear this
word,
hear the
word of
the Lord,
O children
of Israel,
for the
Lord has
a controversy
with the
inhabitants
of the
land.
There is
no faithfulness
or steadfast
love and
no knowledge
of God
in the
land.
There is
swearing,
lying,
murder,
stealing,
and committing
adultery.
They break
all bounds,
and bloodshed
follows
bloodshed.
This is the
land of
Israel,
the chosen
people of
God,
where there
is no
knowledge of
God in
the land,
no faithfulness,
no steadfast
love,
no grace.
In
chapter 5,
God says,
their deeds
do not
permit them
to return
to their
God,
for the
spirit of
wardom is
within them,
and they
know not
the Lord.
And in
chapter 6,
God kind of
pleads with
them.
He says,
in chapter 6,
verse 4,
what shall I
do with
you,
O Ephraim?
What shall I
do with
you,
O Judah?
Your love
is like
the morning
mist,
like the
dew that
goes away
early,
goes early
away.
It's like
somebody who
turns around
and loves
someone,
only to
change their
mind,
and then
come back
again,
and then
change their
mind,
and then
come back
again.
And that
was the
whole
history
of Israel,
right from
the beginning.
Even when
God saved
them out of
Egypt,
and they
saw with
their very
own eyes
what God
had done
for them,
rescuing
them with
His mighty
hand,
His power.
And yet,
20,
40 days
later,
they're off
worshipping
the golden
calves.
They're
complaining,
they're
forgetting
what God
has done
for them.
and that
cycle
continues
on as
they
continue
to forget
God in
one generation,
cry out for
mercy,
and God
comes and
rescues them
again.
And then
they forget
God in
the next
generation,
and they
suffer,
and they
cry out for
mercy,
and God
comes and
rescues
them again,
and they
forget again.
And this
cycle just
continues on,
and God
says,
your love
is like
the morning
mist.
It's
there for a
while,
and then it
just evaporates.
like trying
to love
a prostitute
who continues
to have
her eyes
set on
others.
Hosea
changes the
metaphor a
little bit
in chapter
11,
when God
treats
Israel like
a son.
He says,
when Israel
was a
child,
I loved
him,
and out
of Egypt
I called
my son.
The more
they were
called,
the more
they went
away,
they kept
sacrificing
to the
bales,
and burning
offerings
to idols.
I don't
know if
you've ever
experienced
a relationship
like that.
Family
member,
or someone
where,
a friend,
where the
more that
you try
and reach
out to
them,
the more
they draw
away,
and they
will not
be reached.
like
Hosea's
wife,
the people
of Israel
through their
adultery
violated
their marriage
covenant with
God again
and again
until there
was nothing
left.
And so
what can
God do
with such
a people?
God will
end,
this is why
God declared
that he
will end
that covenant,
that they
will not be
his people
any longer
and he
will no
longer have
mercy upon
them to
forgive them.
call her
name no
mercy for
I will no
longer have
mercy on
the house
of Israel
to forgive
them at
all.
And
the son,
the Lord
said,
call his
name not
my people
for you
are not
my people
and I
am not
your God.
Our
people that
have abandoned
their God
are in
turn abandoned
by God.
And if that
was the end
of the story,
well,
that would
be it.
There
wouldn't be
any more
Israel.
There
wouldn't
be people
of God
at all.
But it's
not the
end.
And
again,
in this
book,
you see
the dilemma
in the
heart of
God.
He says,
how can I
give you
up,
Ephraim?
How can I
give you
up,
Israel?
And he
says,
I can't.
I can't
give you
up.
And so
even
just in
chapter 2,
a little
bit before
we got
to chapter
3,
he turns
and he
says,
I will
make for
them a
covenant
on that
day once
again.
And I'm
going to
call them
back.
I will
speak
and
allure
Israel.
He will
woo her
back to
him.
I will
betroth you
to me
forever.
I will
betroth you
to me
in righteousness,
in justice,
in steadfast love
and in mercy.
I will
betroth you
to me
in faithfulness
and you
will know
the Lord.
I will
have mercy
on no
mercy.
And I will
say to not
my people,
you are my
people.
and he
shall say,
you are my
God.
The act of
restoration
between Hosea
and Gomer
in fixing
what was
smashed,
irreparably
broken,
in putting it
back together,
in restoring
it,
is a picture
of what God
longed to do
with the
house of
Israel.
To restore
them,
to bring
them back.
the people
who were
rejected by
God
will be
restored
once more.
And yet
for all
of these
words,
you know,
the judgments,
the warnings
in Amos,
the call
to come
back to
God
here in
Hosea,
Israel
never did
come back
to God.
Israel
had a whole
string of
kings,
I don't
know how
many,
maybe 30,
40,
more,
and not
one of
them.
followed
God
with
his
heart,
all his
heart,
not one
of them.
And so
they led
the people
astray
all that
time.
And so
even as
the kingdom
ended,
they continued
to follow
other gods.
And so
Israel fell
into ruin
and were
conquered
by Assyria.
Judah
remained,
and yet
they too
forsook
their God
were led
into exile
and then
returned
back into
the land.
And the
people of
Israel
were intermixed
with the
peoples around
them.
And so
they became
by Jesus'
day
the
Samaritans.
And they
were despised
people by
the Jews,
despised as
those who
were children
of adultery.
They were
the children
of these
early Israelites.
And they'd
been mixed
in with
the other
peoples of
the land.
And they
worshipped God
and they worshipped
all these other
idols at the
same time.
What about
us?
How do we
read Hosea?
And what
about the
way that
Jesus comes
in?
And the
way that
he treated
Samaritans?
When he
went to
visit a
Samaritan
village and
encountered a
woman at the
well who
was a woman
who had
five husbands
and then was
living with
someone who
was not a
husband,
a woman of
Hortum,
he called
her and
he named
her and
all the
things that
she'd done
and he
forgave her
and she
turned around
and told the
whole village
and they
came out
and met
Jesus as
well.
And God
through that
act or
in that
time was
all of a
sudden calling
back this
broken and
kind of
destroyed
people back
to himself.
And so
what we have
here is
this hint
of what is
yet to
come that
not only
Israel and
Samaria but
all of the
peoples of
the world
would come
back and be
restored to
God.
As we're
thinking about
it today,
here in
21st century
Hong Kong,
we might be
thinking,
well,
am I
Hosea?
Am I
Goma?
Who do I
identify with
in this
story?
And you
might be
tempted to
identify with
one or the
other and
say, oh,
if I'm to
be Hosea,
then my
role is to
try and win
back those
relationships.
Perhaps there's
been a broken
marriage and I
need to fix
that.
Or if we
identify ourselves
as Goma,
then we think
that we're
the ones
who are
the whore.
And we're
the ones
who've
fallen away
from God
and we're
the ones
like Israel,
who are
like Israel.
But can I
suggest that's
actually not
the best way
of reading
through the
Old Testament,
particularly
through Old
Testament prophets.
Because that's
not what the
New Testament
does.
The New Testament
doesn't say that
we are the
people of Israel.
It doesn't teach
that we are to be
identified with
Israel in that
way.
Rather, Paul
teaches us in
1 Corinthians
that what
happened to
the Israelites
is a warning
for us.
That is, we're
to look at the
way that God
dealt with Israel
and we're to
learn certain
things about
God and
certain things
about the
human heart
condition.
And as I
said before,
what we learn
from this
passage, from
the book of
Hosea, is a
peek into the
very heart of
God.
And what we
see in God's
heart is real
pain.
And it's
only when we
see God's
pain at a
people who
have deserted
him, at a
creation that
has turned
their back on
him, even
though he
gave us life
and breath
and everything.
It's only when
we see the
depths of God's
pain that we
can see the
depths of his
forgiveness, the
way he longs to
reach out to
us.
And forgiveness
forgiveness is
not without
cost.
It's not
easy.
Remember the
story of that
guy that I
told you about
from the
beginning, who
was forgiven
by his wife
after committing
adultery against
her?
He thought
that it was so
easy that he
could be
forgiven.
He almost
couldn't believe
it.
And after the
affair and his
confession of it,
then life just
seemed to go back
to normal for
them.
And he
thought,
oh, that
was it.
I got off.
And it
seemed like
everything was
over until
one day he
heard what
sounded like
the sound of
his wife crying.
And he came
closer until he
realized that she
was crying and
she was praying
to God.
And he heard
what she was
saying and she
was saying,
oh God,
please help me
to forgive him.
I want to.
but it's so
difficult.
And in
that moment
he realized
what his
act and
the forgiveness
that he had
received cost
his wife and
was costing
his wife
daily.
For him it
was free,
but for her
the emotional
cost was
immense.
for Hosea,
the price of
forgiveness was
high.
He paid for
it with his
own resources,
with enduring
disbelief,
shock,
and humiliation
from his
neighbors,
and yet to
swallow his
own sense of
injustice,
hurt,
and anger
at his
wife.
so it
is with
God.
This is what
God does
when he
forgives us.
It seems so
easy for us.
We confess
our sin and
ask and
receive
forgiveness
and grace.
But for
God,
the just
judge of
all the
earth,
it comes
at a
great cost.
Jesus said
that the
Son of
Man came
to give
his life
as a
ransom for
many.
Can a
just God
forgive
when he
looks upon
this world
and sees
evil and
wrongdoing
and injustice
and hurt
and betrayal
and lying
and murder
and adultery
and cheating
only by
bearing
the pain
himself.
Jesus
Christ came
as a
ransom for
many
and he
died
for our
spiritual
adultery.
This is
the kind
of God
that we
follow.
A God
who
experiences
the pain
of brokenness,
of broken
relationships
and a
God who
walks
through that
pain and
embraces even
more pain
in order to
win us
back.
Do we
know this
God,
this true
forgiveness?
How do we
receive
this
forgiveness?
True
forgiveness,
it can't be
demanded,
expected,
or presumed
on.
Can you
imagine if
that husband
had gone
in and
demanded
forgiveness
from his
wife for
what he'd
done?
It would
have been
thrown in
his face.
No,
true
forgiveness
can only
be received
with a
kind of
a humbled
awe.
Like that
husband,
who was
speechless
forgiveness
when he
realized the
cost of
forgiveness.
And he
could only
stand there
and receive
it in
humility.
We receive
forgiveness as
well from
God.
True
forgiveness,
not by
demanding it
from him,
expecting it
from his
hand,
or presuming
upon it.
it can only
be received
with a kind
of humbled
awe as we
come before
God realizing
that this is
the God
who made
us,
who gave
us everything,
who sustains
us,
and yet
who we
turn our
back on,
who we
engage in
idolatry
against,
who we get
distracted
from,
who is,
rather than
being foremost
in our
thoughts,
is often
last in our
thoughts,
and a
bottom
priority
for us.
True
forgiveness
though,
overcomes
revenge,
and spreads
love,
peace,
and redemption.
But as
the woman
who was
betrayed
was praying,
so also
it is hard
too for us
to forgive.
Because
forgiveness
is not
natural
for the
human
spirit.
Rather,
unforgiveness
is natural.
And I
think about
that taxi
driver,
and what
I wanted
to do,
you know,
to throttle
him for
what he'd
done.
When I
think about
a relative
of mine
who is
old enough
to remember
the Japanese
occupation
of Hong
Kong,
and says
he would
never go
to a
Japanese
restaurant,
and never
speak to
a Japanese
person,
except to
curse them.
Decades
on.
When I
think of
a pastor's
wife crying
at a
pastor's
conference,
as we
talked about
anger,
and forgiveness,
and she
was talking
about hurtful
relatives,
who she
could not
forgive.
In this
book,
Philip
Jansi
writes of
forgiveness,
it's called
What's So
Amazing
Around Grace,
and he
tells a
story of
two peacemakers
who visited
a group of
Polish
Christians
ten years
after the
end of
World War
II.
They said,
would you
be willing
to meet
with other
Christians
from West
Germany?
They want
to ask
forgiveness
for what
Germany did
to Poland
during the
war,
and to
begin to
build a
new
relationship.
There was
silence.
And then
one Pole
spoke up.
What you
are asking
is impossible,
he said.
Each stone
of Warsaw
is soaked
in Polish
blood.
We cannot
forgive.
Before the
group parted,
they said
the Lord's
prayer together.
When they
reached the
words,
forgive us,
forgive us
our sins
as we
forgive,
everybody
stopped.
Tension
swelped
swelped in
the
room,
and the
Pole,
who had
spoken so
vehemently,
said,
I must
say yes
to you.
I could
no more
pray our
father.
I could
no longer
call myself
a Christian
if I
refuse to
forgive.
Humanly
speaking,
I cannot
do it,
but God
will give
us his
strength.
Eighteen
months later,
the Polish
and West
German
Christians
met
together in
Vienna,
establishing
friendships that
continue to
this day.
unforgiveness
is hard
because within
us we
want justice
and we
seek redress
for the
hurt that
has been
done against
us.
See,
this is like
Miroslav Rolf,
who's a
Croatian
theologian.
He writes,
deep within the
heart of every
victim,
anger swirls up
against the
perpetrator,
rage inflamed by
unredeemed
suffering.
We don't
pray,
Father,
forgive them
for what they
do.
We'd rather
pray,
Father,
forgive them
not for
they knew
exactly what
they did.
Forgiveness
is an
outrage against
straight-line,
dues-paying
morality.
If perpetrators
were repentant,
then forgiveness
would come more
easily, but too
often they are
not.
And so
victim, both
victim and
perpetrator,
are imprisoned
in the automatism
of mutual
exclusion,
unable to
forgive or
repent,
united in a
perverse communion
of mutual
hate.
And the
trouble with
revenge is
that it
enslaves us.
And of
course he's
talking about
the genocide
and of his
hometown in
Serbia and
Yugoslavia,
back in those
days in the
90s,
warfare,
blood feuds
and genocide,
the end
result of
unforgiveness.
But it
takes an
act of grace
to break
into that.
It takes
someone to
take the
initiative
to forgive.
Often we
think,
I'll forgive
if they
come before
me and
are repentant.
And I
used to
think that
as well.
And then I
realized that
Jesus prayed,
Father,
forgive them
for they do
not know what
they are doing
when he was
on the cross
for people
who had
certainly not
repented.
to forgive
is divine,
as they
say.
And God's
correct grace
teaches us
to forgive.
The reason
why we
find it
hard to
forgive,
even as
people who
have experienced
forgiveness,
and I don't
know if you
have or not,
but one of
the reasons
we might find
it hard is
that we've
forgotten
forgiveness.
We've forgotten
who we are
as people of
God.
we've
forgotten
the forgiveness
that comes
to us.
Like the
unforgiving
servant who
couldn't
forgive a
debt,
even though
he'd been
forgiven a
debt millions
of times
greater.
It reminded
me of when
the kids were
playing and
they ran
out of
water.
You can't
drink the
water in
Vietnam,
the tap
water,
so you've
got to
buy a
bottle of
water.
And so
they ran
out of
water.
And so
I had a
big bottle
and I
filled up
one of
the kids'
bottles with
mine and
gave it to
her.
And she
took it
gratefully and
drank it.
And then we
told her,
share it with
your sister.
She said,
no,
mine.
I was like,
I just gave
that to you.
And we
just looked at
each other and
thought,
that's what
it's like
with us
and God.
We can't
forgive this
thing that
somebody else
has done
towards us.
And we
say,
no,
that's mine
that you've
taken from
me,
my hurt
that I
can't give
up.
And we
forget God's
broken heart.
We forget
the forgiveness
that we've
received.
No wonder
Jesus says
that we should
pray,
Father,
forgive us as
we forgive
those who
have sinned
against us.
because if
we cannot
forgive others,
then we
have forgotten
the forgiveness
that was
ours.
And if we
continue to
forget that
forgiveness,
then perhaps
we're not
forgiven at
all.
Grace is
the only
solution
to ungrace.
I'm going
to finish
with this
story,
one final
story here,
which illustrates
this.
And it's
about a
woman who
had to
forgive.
You see,
and I think
the names
have been
changed,
but Rebecca,
in weeks of
meeting together
in this small
group discussion
regarding
forgiveness,
spoke up and
said that she
had married a
pastor who
was quite well
known,
and yet he
had a dark
side.
He would
visit
prostitutes
whenever he
would go to
other cities
to speak.
And she
knew about it
and sometimes
he would ask
Rebecca for
forgiveness and
sometimes he
did not.
And in time,
he left her
for another
woman,
Julianne.
Rebecca told
us how painful
it was for
her, a
pastor's wife,
to suffer
this humiliation.
Some church
members who
had respected
her husband
treated her as
if his sexual
strain had been
her fault.
Devastated,
she found
herself pulling
away from
human contact,
unable to
trust another
person.
She could never
put her husband
out of her
mind because
they had
children and
she had to
make contact
with him to
arrange
visitation.
And she
had this
increasing
sense that
unless she
forgave her
former husband,
a hard lump
of revenge would
be passed on
to their
children.
For months
she prayed.
At first her
prayers seemed
as vengeful as
some of the
psalms.
She asked
God to give
her husband
what he
deserved.
Finally,
she came to
the place of
letting God
not herself
determine what
he deserved.
One night,
Rebecca called
her ex-husband
and said in a
shaky, strained
voice,
I want you to
know that I
forgive you for
what you've done
to me and I
forgive Julianne
too.
He laughed
off her apology.
I'm willing to
admit he had done
anything wrong.
Despite that,
the conversation
helped Rebecca
get past her
bitter feelings.
A few years
later,
Rebecca got a
hysterical phone
call from
Julianne,
the woman who
had stolen
her husband.
She'd been
attending a
ministerial
conference with
him in
Minneapolis and
he'd left the
hotel room to
go for a
walk.
A few hours
passed and
Julianne heard
from the
police.
Her husband
had been
picked up for
soliciting a
prostitute.
On the phone
with Rebecca,
Julianne was
sobbing.
I never
believed you,
she said.
I kept
telling myself
that even if
what you said
was true,
he had
changed.
And now
this.
I feel so
ashamed and
hurt and
guilty.
I have no
one on earth
who can
understand.
Then I
remember the
night when
you said you
had forgiven
us.
I thought
maybe you
could understand
what I'm
going through.
It's a
terrible thing
to ask,
I know,
but could I
come and
talk to
you?
Somehow
Rebecca found
the courage
to invite
Julianne over
that same
evening.
They sat
in their
living room,
cried
together,
shared
stories of
betrayal,
and in
the end
prayed
together.
Julianne
now points
to that
night as
the time
when she
became a
Christian.
Our group
was hushed
as Rebecca
told her
story.
She was
describing
forgiveness
not in
the abstract,
but in
the reality
of the
rawness,
of a
husband,
steal,
and
abandoned
wife kneeling
side by
side on
a living
room floor
praying.
God
comes and
identifies
with us.
We don't
have a
high priest
who is
unable to
sympathize
with our
weaknesses,
but we
have one
who has
been tempted
in every
way,
just as
we are,
and yet
was without
sin.
And yet
he became
sin for
us.
God
bridged
the gap.
He came
in and
forgave us.
He has
been there,
and he
knows and
understands.
And as
Jesus
recorded,
forgiveness
was not easy
for Jesus
either.
If it is
possible,
may this
cup be
taken from
me,
Jesus
prayed.
There was
no other
way.
And yet
he says,
in his
dying moments,
forgive them,
all of them,
the Roman
soldiers,
the religious
leaders,
the disciples
who fled
in darkness,
you,
me,
forgive them,
for they do
not know what
they are doing.
Let's
pray.
Amen.
Father God,
we know
that we
are a
people who
sometimes
are far
away from
you and
run in the
opposite
direction,
even though
you hold
out your
hands to
us.
And we
might take a
step forward
but then fall
back again.
And Father,
I know that in
my life too,
I have
failed to
continue to
follow you,
to seek
after you.
Forgive me,
forgive us.
Father,
we ask that
you would
help us to
remember not
to demand
or expect
or presume
upon your
forgiveness,
but to
receive it
from you
with humbled
awe.
And we
thank you
for this.
In Jesus'
name we
pray.
Amen.