A Postcard to Philemon
05/25/2003 - Radical Forgiveness
Corrie Ten Boom, whose life story was made famous by the movie called The Hiding Place , spent part of World War II abused in a Nazi concentration camp. Following the end of the war she was released and traveled throughout Europe speaking about the love and forgiveness of God.
In one of her messages in a church in Munich she made the statement, "When we confess our sins to God he casts them into the deepest ocean, gone forever. And then places a sign out there that says, 'NO FISHING ALLOWED!'"
After the service she noticed a man in a blue uniform and a visored cap with the emblem of a skull and crossbones making his way to the front against the flow of people who were filing out in silence.
As she watched him get closer it all came back to her with a rush-the huge room with the bright overhead lights, the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the center of the floor, the shame of walking naked past ogling and leering guards, the sight of her frail sister in front of her with her sharp ribs almost puncturing her parched skin. The place was Ravensbruck, a Nazi concentration camp, and the man who was making his way towards her had been a guard there-one of the cruelest guards.
In her book she writes, "Now he was in front of me, thrusting his hand out."
"A fine message, Fraulein! How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!" Corrie fumbled in her pocketbook not wanting to take his hand.
"He couldn't remember me," she thought, "how could he remember one prisoner among thousands of women?"
But Corrie remembered him and the leather crop swinging from his wide belt. She was face to face with one of her captors and her blood seemed to freeze inside her body.
"You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk," he said. "I was a guard there. But since that time I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for all the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well, Fraulein." Again the hand came out, "Will you forgive me?"
"It could not have been many seconds that he stood there," she says, "hand held out. But to me it seemed like hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do. My sister, Betsie, died in that place. Could he erase her slow agonizing death simply for the asking?"
"As I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart. I realized that forgiveness is not an emotion, but a decisive act of the will and can function regardless of the temperature of the heart." "Jesus, help me!" I prayed silently. "I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling."
And so woodenly, mechanically, she thrust her hand into his and as she did so an incredible thing took place. The current started in her shoulder, raced down her arm, and sprang into their joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to fill her whole being and brought tears to her eyes. "I forgive you, brother," she cried, "with all my heart." And for a long moment they stood there, grasping each other's hands, the former Nazi guard and the former concentration camp prisoner.
Forgiveness. It's easy to talk about it. It's easy to preach on it. But it's not always easy to give it. Is it? As Christians we can be experts at receiving God's forgiveness and we love the truth that our sin is cast into the deepest sea with a sign over it that says "NO FISHING ALLOWED." But when it comes to showing that kind of forgiveness to someone whose hurt us deeply it can be the hardest thing we ever have to do.
But that's what the apostle Paul is going to ask Philemon to do. Forgive a runaway slave who has every right to die. Forgive a man who had embarrassed him, humiliated him and made him look bad in front of the whole town of Colosse. "Philemon, hah! He calls himself a Christian? He's no different than we are. Why should we believe in his God? He can't even keep his slaves under control. My slaves don't give me any problem. He must be some hardnosed jerk for Onesimus to rip him off and runaway like that."
You remember the story. Onesimus had run away from his Christian master, Philemon. He had hitchhiked 1,000 miles to Rome to live it up and then blend into the crowd. But while in that city, through the providence of God, he ran into the apostle Paul who led him to faith in Christ. And when Paul discovered that he was his friend's slave, he knew he had to send him back. And that would be really tough for Onesimus, maybe the hardest thing he ever had to do.
But before he goes, Paul arms him with a bodyguard named Tychicus, a letter to the Colossian church that met in his master's house and a postcard to Philemon. In that postcard, Paul is appealing to this man of faith and love, this man whose name means "friendly," to forgive his renegade slave.
This morning we continue our mini-series called A Postcard to Philemon with a teaching I've called "Radical Forgiveness." The book has three characters in it. Last week we looked at Philemon. Today we'll look at Onesimus and then next week at the apostle Paul. If you have a Bible turn with me to Philemon 8-17.
Look at verses 8-9, Therefore, although in Christ I could be bold and order you to do what you ought to do, 9 yet I appeal to you on the basis of love. I then, as Paul-an old man and now also a prisoner of Christ Jesus.
Paul wants Philemon to do what he ought to do and that is to forgive Onesimus and spare his life. But he's not going to order him to do it. As an apostle who led this man to Christ he could have powered up on him and twisted his arm. But he doesn't. Instead, he's going to appeal to Philemon on the basis of love.
And that's the first observation on radical forgiveness. Radical forgiveness is voluntary. Nobody can force us to forgive another person. Genuine forgiveness comes from the heart. It's not just mouthing the words, "I forgive you." Like Corrie Ten Boom said it starts with a decision we make even when the feelings aren't there.
Some of the best insights I've gained on forgiveness come out of a book called "I Should Forgive, But ..." by Dr. Chuck Lynch, a former pastor and Christian counselor. And in his book he writes, "Forgiveness lays the foundation for any continuing relationship. It's one of the hardest things we must do in order to maintain our relationships ... In my opinion anger and bitterness are the culprits behind 85% of all the difficult issues we deal with on a daily basis."
Forgiveness is huge for our own physical health and well being. So Paul, who calls himself a prisoner of Christ Jesus a second time and an old man , a Greek word for someone in their early 50's, urges Philemon to make the decision to forgive.
Radical forgiveness is voluntary. It starts with a decision. Second, radical forgiveness relinquishes the right to retaliate. Philemon had every right, in that culture, to take Onesimus' head off, literally. He could have killed him in a heartbeat for what he did and he would have had the law on his side. No questions asked. But Paul is asking him to forfeit his right to punish this man because that's what forgiveness does. It gives up the right to retaliate.
Lynch goes on to say, "Human logic says that my offender is deserving of punishment, and I must exact that punishment or see to it that it is exacted before I forgive ... But we must hand over the responsibility of carrying out the punishment to someone else, if for no other reason than that it takes a righteous judge to exact true justice."
Philemon would have to give up his right to retaliate. And that's the hardest step in forgiveness, because we want to see justice done. In the last ten days I was in three separate situations where I felt offended and that anger welled up inside me. And in each of those situations I felt the urge to retaliate. And in each one I had a choice to make. The choice was to fight back or to absorb the blow and let God deal with it.
In Romans 12 Paul writes, Do not repay anyone evil for evil ... Do not take revenge, but leave room for God's wrath. For it is written, "Vengeance is mine. I will repay," says the Lord. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
Radical forgiveness demands giving up our right to punish, to retaliate, to hit back, to make life miserable for the person whose hurt us. It is at the very core of what it means to be Christ like.
I can remember struggling with this whole rights thing in the first church where I served on staff. In a number of situations I felt taken advantage of and so I went to the pastor and after we talked for awhile he recommended a little book for me to read called, Have We No Right? written by Mabel Williamson. Mabel Williamson was missionary for years in overcrowded China and she struggled with suffering and self-denial and that fact that she had to give up so many of what she thought were her "rights"-the right to the normal comforts of life, to physical health and safety, to privacy, to time, to friends, to romance, to family and to home. But she finally came to the conclusion that part of becoming like Christ was becoming like the one who had not rights. And in her book she wrote this poem called "He Had No Rights."
He had no rights
No right to a soft bed, and a well-laid table.
No right to a home of His own, a place where His own pleasure might be sought.
No right to choose pleasant, congenial companions, those who could understand Him and sympathize with Him.
No right to shrink away from filth and sin, to pull His garments closer around Him and turn aside to walk in cleaner paths.
No right to be understood and appreciated; no, not by those upon whom He had poured out a double portion of His love.
No right even never to be forsaken by His Father, the One who meant more than all to Him.
His only right was silently to endure shame, spitting, blows; to take His place as a sinner at the dock; to bear my sins in anguish on the cross.
He had no rights. And I?
A right to the "comforts" of life? No, but a right to the love of God for my pillow.
A right to physical safety? No, but a right to the security of being in His will.
A right to love and sympathy from those around me? No, but a right to the friendship of the One who understands me better than I do myself.
A right to be a leader among men? No, but the right to be led by the One to whom I have given my all, led as is a little child, with its hand in the hand of its father.
A right to a home, and dear ones? No, not necessarily, but a right to dwell in the heart of God.
A right to myself? No, but oh, I have a right to Christ.
All that He takes I will give. All that He gives I will take.
He, my only right! He, the one right before which all other rights
fade into nothingness.
I have full right to Him.
Oh, may He have full right to me!
Radical forgiveness means giving up our rights to retaliate. This was what was on Paul's mind when he wrote Colossians 3:12-13, Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. That's radical forgiveness.
Now look at verses 10-12, I appeal to you for my son Onesimus, who became my son while I was in chains. 11 Formerly he was useless to you, but now he has become useful both to you and to me. 12 I am sending him-who is my very heart-back to you.
Keep in mind the scene. It's not unlike Corrie's reunion with the Nazi guard. Philemon stands frozen at the door, shocked to see Onesimus. Onesmius is standing there, or maybe kneeling, with his head down, desperately trying to avoid eye contact. Tychicus hands Philemon the letter and it is not until this point that he reads that this man has been changed, dramatically.
He left as a slave and now Paul calls him a son. He left useless and now he's described as useful. He left as a heartache to Philemon and now Paul calls him my very heart. Onesimus' name means "useful." His character has finally caught up to his name. Onesimus had had a transformation and before Philemon did anything Paul wanted him to know about it.
Look at verses 13-17, I would have liked to keep him with me so that he could take your place in helping me while I am in chains for the gospel. 14 But I did not want to do anything without your consent, so that any favor you do will be spontaneous and not forced. 15 Perhaps the reason he was separated from you for a little while was that you might have him back for good-16 no longer as a slave, but better than a slave, as a dear brother. He is very dear to me but even dearer to you, both as a man and as a brother in the Lord. 17 So if you consider me a partner, welcome him as you would welcome me.
Paul would have liked to have kept Onesimus. But he'll do nothing without Philemon's consent. He puts principle above expediency. He could have talked Philemon into it with a letter, but he didn't want to presume on the relationship. So he reminds Philemon that perhaps God had taken Onesimus away for a little while, literally "for an hour," so that he might have him back for good, literally "for eternity."
Yet, even though he's now a brother, Onesimus must still face the consequences of his actions. Is he forgiven by God? Yes. For his stealing? Yes. For his desertion? Yes. But he still must make it right with his boss. The consequences remain. He's been forgiven vertically, but he needs to be forgiven horizontally.
And this is where God gives Christ followers the power and the courage to do hard things relationally. And sometimes nothing can be harder than saying, "I am sorry. I was wrong. Please forgive me." That's what Onesimus needed to say. Jennifer and I will celebrate our 18th wedding anniversary in October. And some of the best advice that we ever received for our marriage came to us in 12 short words, words that I give every couple that I marry as a pastor, heavenly words like Tim talked about two weeks ago, words that can get stuck in your throat, but that need to be said to maintain a growing, healthy relationship. They are, "I am sorry. I was wrong. Please forgive me. I love you."
You see it's easy to rip apart relationships, even with the ones we love. It's easy to run and hide. That's what Adam and Eve did back in the garden and we still do it today. It's easier to stay in Rome than go back to Colosse and make things right. Onesimus had to make the first move. And the Bible says that the first move is always ours to make, whether we've offended someone or been offended by them. It's our responsibility as Christ followers to make the first move towards reconciliation.
Which brings me to the third observation on radical forgiveness. Radical forgiveness doesn't forget, it chooses not to remember. Paul isn't asking Philemon to forget what Onesimus did to him, instead he's asking him to choose not to remember it against him. And there's a big difference.
One of the fallacies of forgiveness is this belief that forgiving means forgetting. It doesn't. Forgiving and forgetting are two separate issues. Forgiving doesn't automatically destroy the memory that God has given us. But it does mean that we make a choice not to bring up the offense ever again to the person we've forgiven or to someone else.
Lynch writes, "Before we forgive someone, the constant pain from their hurt can be a '10' on a scale of 1 to 10. But after forgiving them that pain may reduce to a '2' or even a '1.' With this great reduction in pain, the memory often fades. Or it may not. But the presence of the memory is not a factor in forgiveness."
A friend of Clara Burton, founder of the American Red Cross, once reminded her of an especially cruel thing that had been done to her years before. But Clara didn't recall it. "Don't you remember it?" her friend asked. "No," she said, "I distinctly remember forgetting about it."
Sometimes in our marriage if one of us brings something up that we've been forgiven for we'll say the same thing. "I don't know what you're talking about. I remembered to forget."
Radical forgiveness chooses not to dwell on the hurts of life. And if we don't make that choice we'll never be free. We'll never be free from our anger and our bitterness and the grudges we can hold against each other. Someone has said, "Collect postage stamps, or coins, or baseball cards, but don't collect grudges."
Paul loved Philemon. He wanted the best for him. And that's why he's asking him to forgive this man. Because if he does not only will he set Onesimus free, he'll set himself free as well.
All of us go through life carrying a backpack. They come in all different sizes. But we all have one. And whenever we get hurt in a relationship another stone gets added to the backpack. Some of the hurts are big, hurts by our parents, or by siblings, or by spouses or significant others in our life. Some of the hurts are small by people we don't even know well. But every time we get hurt another stone gets put in the backpack. And after awhile it gets real heavy to carry it around. It takes a toll on us emotionally and physically and spiritually. And we can choose to numb the pain by working real hard or staying real busy or by escaping into a world of alcohol or drugs or food or sex or some other addiction. But that won't lighten the load. There's only one way to lighten the load and that is through radical forgiveness.
Forgiveness lightens the backpack. You see every time we forgive a person who has hurt us we take a stone out of that backpack and give it to God. And eventually, with God's help, it's possible to empty it completely and keep it empty by living a lifestyle of forgiveness. That's what Jesus had in mind when he said, "You will know the truth and truth will set you free."
The Christian life is a supernatural life lived out in a natural world full of hurt and disappointment and injustice. And if we're not careful we can easily fall victim to the anger and bitterness that can destroy us. And in the culture we live we can hold on to our rights until it kills us. But God calls us to live life another way, the way of radical forgiveness.
Forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.