Forgiveness - The best dish to serve

A little while ago I had an e-mail arrive in my inbox from someone who I’d known for a little while and hadn’t always got along with particularly well. The e-mail was entitled ‘forgiveness’. 

Within the e-mail the person described an incident where I had told them something which (in their words) they had later found out to be untrue. They wanted to write to me to tell me they had forgiven me for this (this was the first I'd heard of this).

The first thing to note here is that this was a simple misunderstanding rather than an untruth. To be honest, that isn’t as important, because despite the misunderstanding, it was a really interesting and helpful thing for me to reflect on.

Forgiveness is often something we feel we need to give to people. The most helpful teaching I’ve heard on this however is from Steve Goss on the Freedom in Christ course. He says this:

One of the key things we need to understand is that, although forgiveness is something we extend to others, the real issue when it comes to forgiveness is not so much between us and the other person. It is between us and God because He is the one who commands us to forgive.

If someone has offended you, you don’t go to them, you go to God. Your need to forgive others is first and foremost an issue between you and God. If you think about it, there is logic in that because your freedom cannot be dependent on other people — otherwise it could not be guaranteed.

It is for your sake that you forgive. Imagine a woman whose husband has left her for someone else. That is painful — and we don’t want to trivialise it in any way. She might say, “I’m not ready to forgive him”. She’s effectively saying. “By staying angry, I’m getting my own back on him.” Her ex is probably travelling round the world, going to parties, having a good time. The fact that she is sitting there resentful, bitter and angry only hurts her, not him.

This e-mail, when it came in, was, for me, a really helpful reminder about this principle which I fully endorse but sometimes forget. It is very easy for me to walk around feeling some degree of annoyance or anger towards someone for something they did a long time ago. Like the woman in the story above however, this doesn’t do anyone, especially me, any good.

I often spend a good amount of time coming before the Lord asking for forgiveness for the many things I do, say, don't do or simply think! This e-mail encouraged me to also spend some time forgiving others for the things done to me, releasing that hold on my life before God, and allowing him to minister to me.

I wonder if we should do more of this? Confession is one of the pillars of our liturgical services, but forgiveness – whilst declared – is never something we are encouraged to offer. Would this work? With the correct teaching surrounding it then maybe it would?

I also know that sometimes, forgiveness is really hard.

Someone played a game with me the other day, where they state two things and you have to choose which is more you. Things like Strawberry or Chocolate ice cream…. That sort of thing (Chocolate, obviously) - They snuck in, Forgiveness or Revenge.

Revenge, particularly in our culture today, is the preferred method of dealing with someone who wrongs us in some way, but scripture tells us multiple times to forgive. Forgiveness is countercultural, but if we are to be obedient to His word, we must do it.

The cross is ultimately a symbol of love and of forgiveness - A love which makes up for all of our sins.

I have a little saying which, when I remember, is very helpful to me. It is simply ‘I can forgive a little, because I have been forgiven much’.

By this I mean, compared to the things for which I know I have been forgiven, I should have no trouble forgiving others - even if it does feel hard sometimes.

If you feel resentment towards someone this week, maybe spend some time bringing the situation before the Lord, and asking both forgiveness for your part in it, but also forgiving them. Maybe add a moment to your daily prayer where you offer forgiveness to anyone you need to from the day, even if it’s just the man who cut you up at the roundabout. Release them, and the hook which they place into your life. You’ll feel better for it I’m sure. 

When ‘God’ Says No

I announced at the age of 3 that I wanted to be Archbishop of Allonby. For those of you who don’t know, Allonby is a very tiny village on the west coast of Cumbria. My grandparents had a static caravan there, to which we would often go on holiday. Allonby did (when I last visited) have a small parish church, but certainly has no Cathedral or Archbishop’s seat. I can probably be forgiven for my lack of knowledge of episcopal oversight at such a young age, and you’ll also be pleased to know that my delusions of grandeur were to be short lived. 

This feeling of wanted to be a vicar, at least, never really went away and I explored this seriously when I was 16 or 17 and was told I was too young and to go off and do something else. This I did, and in the process, truthfully, moved away from God a little. The story of how I came back to my faith, now inhabiting it rather than inheriting it, is for another time (spoiler alert for my talk on Sunday evening!) but fast forward to 5 years ago, almost to the month, and I was sat in front of the Diocesan Director of Ordinands (Vicar training woman) about to hear if I had passed the SAS style selection process to be a Vicar called a Bishops Advisory Panel (BAP).

It was a no.

I can’t quite put down in this blog how completely and unutterably heart-breaking that moment was. Even in my time away from church I knew, somewhere deep down, this was what God had called me to, and what I would one day be doing. I was 26 at the time, and so on some level that was 23 years of belief and hope tied up in one moment, only to be broken to smithereens. 

I’m not sure if it was helpful or not, but those around me told me that they were as confused as I was. My DDO agreed I could study part time whilst we worked out what to do next and my vicar was, unusually for him, lost for words.

A close and wise clergy friend of mine said to me at the time “I’m not sure I have ever fully trusted the process of BAPs, but I do trust God to work through the process.” This simply made me a bit angry at God (to be honest) rather than doing anything to help! (At the time anyway).

What was God doing?! Why had ‘God’ said no?

I use the inverted commas because in this instance it wasn’t, actually, God who wrote to me and said ‘no’. It was the panel secretary of the BAP. But when you feel called to something, so deeply, so passionately it’s hard not to hear it as God saying no.

Today is a different story however. Oh the benefit of hindsight! If I were to have my time again I wouldn’t have done it much differently, and certainly wouldn't have done the timing any differently.

Once my vicar re-found his words (it didn’t take long) his thoughts were to the effect of:

“You have no idea why it was a no. It could be as simple as God having the perfect curacy and the perfect first, second and third incumbencies lined up for you, but the timing not being quite right this time round.”

Certainly my calling to St Paul’s (again, a story for another time) feels a little like God has been lining it up, timing wise, for some time.

I do, however, remember all too well that feeling I had 5 years ago. It is so easy for us to become stuck in the moment, to see it from our perspective, to think, even if we don’t say “but God, surely you must understand I am right” – but we don’t see as he does. It says in 1 Corinthians “For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength” – Sometimes we look at our own thoughts and our own wisdom and believe them to be perfect, but in comparison to God’s, it’s foolishness.

There are so many reasons why rubbish things happen, why God can, at times, appear to say no, or simply to remain silent. It’s one of my favourite topics, so I’m sure that in time it will appear here a bit more fully:

At my second BAP one of the assessors said “According to your references you have a fantastic theology of suffering, I’d love to hear it”.

I did, in that moment, feel a bit like the proverbial rabbit in headlights. I was completely convinced he’d read that in someone else’s report, and for a moment I was unable to speak. Nonetheless, I said something along the lines of this:

Throughout my life I’ve experienced a lot of rubbish, from my father dying at a young age, through to less important relationship issues and problems at work. Many of these things I wish hadn’t happened, many of them, I prayed for God to intervene in and then questioned why he hadn’t. As I look back I realise however that he always did. Not in the way I often hoped or imagined, but he always has. Ephesians warns us to be on our guard because our enemy prowls round, waiting to attack. This is right of course, and often he does attack, often he causes things to happen in this world which we would much rather didn’t happen. But God can, and does take the worst that the enemy, and this world can throw at us and weaves it into something far more beautiful than we will ever imagine.

Today, I want to encourage you. If you’re sat looking at the world, feeling like all is lost, things can and will get better. God will work, even the darkest of days into Good. God’s timing is perfect, and his love endures forever.

And a disclaimer - if you feel this post feels a little hopeless, like I'm suggesting God doesn't intervene in very real ways, in the moment, and that prayer hasn't worked - please read one of my previous posts which will prove that is not what I think at all! There is a truth in the 'now and the not yet' of the kingdom of God. The previous posts have largely focussed on the now, this one focusses on the not yet. This is almost certainly another topic I'll revisit at a later date! 

But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me. Do not gloat over me, my enemy! Though I have fallen, I will rise. Though I sit in darkness, the LORD will be my light. (Micah 7:7-8)

What are we expecting?

I wonder how many of us put God in a box?  This is a genuine question!

I've had the privilege of walking alongside some amazing folk on their various journeys of faith over the years. Some have had huge expectations of what God can and will do in their lives, and the lives of their families, some have slightly less expectation.

It's got me thinking however: What are my limits? Where do my expectations on God stop, where do they start?

This morning our Psalm was 89. It says “You rule the raging of the sea, you still its waves when they arise” – Do we still believe in a God who calms the raging sea? (be that literally, or metaphorically?)

Jesus says in Matthew "Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you".

If I look out of my window I don't see a mountain, but I do see a house. Much smaller and easier to move than a mountain perhaps. But do I truly believe that if I said to the house to move that it would move? Probably not, but why not?

Most commentators suggest Jesus probably wasn't being literal here, he was using it as a symbol, that we should have faith in God to do things just as difficult and seemingly impossible. I wonder however where the box in which we place our expectations reaches it's limit?

At times over the last 10 years of so, I've felt God couldn't help me find a job, but then he has.

I've felt like I would spend my life alone, clearly God finding someone to marry me would be impossible, it wasn't.

I've thought an illness too great and incurable to be beyond his help, but then seen healing.

I've thought 'God will speak to everyone else but it is actually more likely he will move a mountain than speak to me' - then he's spoken.

The list goes on… God has pushed and broken most of the lines I've drawn, sometimes quickly (I declared, seriously, that I would be single forever 3 days before meeting Jess) sometimes over more time (the healing I mention took a couple of years).

And of course, sometimes the things we pray for don't happen, people are jobless, they are alone - despite not wanting to be, they don't see healing, they don't hear his voice. I wonder if it’s these experiences, these sadnesses, which narrow our expectations?

The reasons why it the things we pray for don’t happen are largely unknown and probably for another blog post, but I'm always encouraged to know that John Wimber apparently prayed for over 1000 sick people before he saw his first healing.

The key thing is, he kept praying, he kept expecting.

The point of today's reflection is to encourage you, as I've been encouraged, to check what the mountains are in your life, what seems impossible and out of God's reach, and to pray for it.

Some questions to consider:

When was the last time I prayed for something well beyond my expectations, when was I bold in my prayers?

How would I feel if God sent his Holy Spirit on my church, community or even just me like we see in Acts, if people from outside saw us and wondered if we were drunk? Do we expect Him to move this powerfully or would we prefer him to be a bit more restrained, a bit more British?

How do we react when we don't see an answer to prayer, does it discourage us and limit our prayers next time, or do we keep our expectations wide?

Pete Greig tells one of my all time favourite stories on this topic...

In a small south American town, a bar, known locally as Drummond's Bar began construction on a new building to increase their business. They wanted to add a strip club to the activities they provided. Next door to the bar was the local Baptist church and they started a campaign to block the bar from opening with petitions, and big banners and signs, and prayers.

Work progressed right up till the week before opening when lightning struck the bar and it burned to the ground. The church folks were rather smug in their outlook after that, until the bar owner sued the church on the grounds that the church was ultimately responsible for the demise of his building, either through direct or indirect actions or means. The church vehemently denied all responsibility or any connection to the building's demise in its reply to the court.

As the case made its way into court, the judge looked over the

paperwork. At the hearing he commented, "I don't know how I'm going to decide this case. It appears that we have a bar owner who believes in the power of prayer, and an entire church congregation that does not."

Finally, these verses from Ephesians were prayed over me many years ago, I use them again today as my prayer for myself and His church.

I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength he exerted when he raised Christ from the deadand seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come. And God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills everything in every way.