Forgive and Forget

There is no use in talking as if forgiveness were easy. We all know the old joke, “You’ve given up smoking once; I’ve given it up a dozen times.” In the same way I could say of a certain man, “Have I forgiven him for what he did that day? I’ve forgiven him more times than I can count.” For we find that the work of forgiveness has to be done over and over again. ~ C.S. Lewis

Forgive and forget.

How often have we been told that, taught that –  heard it said, heard it sung? It seems that everyone says it, except God.

We’re told to forgive: Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. (Ephesians 4:32)  He doesn’t add, and forget it ever happened. There are so many things we have forgiven and forgotten. But there are some scars that remind us of things forgiven.

Remembering doesn’t mean not forgiving. Continuing to hold it against another does.

So often we struggle with forgiveness; either refusing to offer it or fearing we haven’t, because we can’t forget. We all know what it means to forget something. We do it all the time. Maybe the problem lies in knowing what it means to forgive something. Lewis Smedes says:

You will know that forgiveness has begun when you recall those who hurt you and feel the power to wish them well.

God holds only Himself to the high standard of forgetfulness. For I will be merciful regarding their wrong deeds, and I will never again remember their sins. (Hebrews 8:12).  He doesn’t tell us to forgive and forget. We added that ourselves. For we find that the work of forgiveness has to be done over and over again.

God doesn’t tell us to forgive and forget. He tells us to forgive and forgive.

The Weight of Glory

It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter: it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbour. The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbour’s glory should be laid on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken.

It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person may one day be a creature, which if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare.

All day long we are, in some degree helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with that awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never met a mere mortal.

Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations – these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. ~ C.S. Lewis

All day long we are, in some degree helping each other to one or other of these destinations. This is such an apt description of how I feel about you who read here, who share your thoughts and heart here and in your own blogs, emails and phone calls. What a privilege to be among you!

And so it’s true! It’s just as I suspected all along. You aren’t mere mortals! You are, indeed, an everlasting splendor! Your presence is a gift of grace in my every day. Thank you for joy of journeying together!

Letting Go

I think that if God forgives us we must forgive ourselves. Otherwise it is almost like setting up ourselves as a higher tribunal than Him.                     ~ C.S. Lewis

This is the final post of this week’s forgiveness series. I’m ending at the beginning. Letting go. It’s hard to freely give what we refuse to receive. One reason extending forgiveness can be so difficult is that we often falter when it comes to forgiving ourselves. If we hang on to our own offenses, which we understand, at least in part, we fall into the trap of shame and guilt. How much more likely, then, will we be to call back another’s, which we may not understand at all, with a heart of blame and recrimination?

That’s the arrogance in unforgivness. It’s not only arrogant to fail to forgive others, it’s equally arrogant to refuse to forgive ourselves.

Maybe we need to practice apologizing to ourselves and letting it go! In that way forgiveness becomes more and more second nature, both an acceptance and an extension of the grace which God unabashedly lavishes.

99% Forgiven

The difference between this situation (forgiving my neighbor) and the one in which you are asking God’s forgiveness this. In our own case we accept them easily enough. As regards my own sins it is a safe bet (though not a certainty) that the excuses are not really so good as I think: as regards other men’s sins against me it is a safe bet (though not a certainty) that the excuses are better than I think. One must therefore begin by attending carefully to everything which may show that the other man was not so much to blame as we thought. But even if he is absolutely fully to blame we will still have to forgive him; and even if ninety-nine percent of his apparent guilt can be explained away by really good excuses, the problem of forgiveness begins with the one percent of guilt which is left over. To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable, because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you. ~ C.S. Lewis

I don’t know about you but I can fall on either side of the wall. With certain people, or in certain circumstances, I’ll make excuses and write everything off as understandable, all things considered. But there are also times, with some people, in some situations, when I don’t want to extend any grace at all and I see everything as inexcusable.

Good thing God didn’t appoint me judge. He reserves that role for Himself. He’s made my job so much easier. Without having to weigh the evidence or consider the circumstances, I’m told to just forgive the whole bit, every time. 99% forgiveness, isn’t forgiveness, it’s simply me being magnanimous. Forgiveness is 100%, 100% of the time.

The Inexcusable Bit

But the trouble is that what we call “asking God’s forgiveness” very often really consists in asking God to accept our excuses. What leads us into this mistake is the fact that there usually is some amount of excuse, some “extenuating circumstances.” We are so very anxious to point these out to God (and to ourselves) that we are apt to forget the really important thing; that is, the bit left over, the bit which the excuses don’t cover, the bit which is inexcusable but not, thank God, unforgivable. And if we forget this, we shall go away imagining that we have repented and been forgiven when all that has really happened is that we have satisfied ourselves with our own excuses.

What we have got to take to him is the inexcusable bit, the sin. We are only wasting time by talking about all the parts which can (we think) be excused. When you go to a doctor you show him the bit of you that is wrong – say, a broken arm. It would be a mere waste of time to keep on explaining that your legs and eyes and throat are all right.  ~ C.S. Lewis

Continuing a thread from yesterday’s post, I’ve decided to make this the freedom of forgiveness week. C.S.Lewis’ great section on forgiveness from The Weight of Glory always has held particular irony for me. I spent most of my life starting every doctor’s appointment by apologetically saying, “I don’t meant to complain…” No matter how sick I was, I didn’t want to complain to a doctor so I could get a cure. I always understated my symptoms. In a similar fashion, when seeking forgiveness I found it to be so much more palatable to explain and rationalize and understate so that the other person, or God, would see how my offense was really not so bad, given the ‘extenuating circumstances’.

I got tired of myself a while back and started simply saying, I’ve wronged you. Please forgive me. Freedom comes in taking an honest look at the inexcusable bits. My denial only covered it up. His grace covers it all.

The Problem With Mud Pies

If there lurks in the most modern minds the notion that to desire our own good and earnestly to hope for enjoyment of it is a bad thing, I submit that this notion has crept in from Kant and the Stoics and is not part of the Christian faith. Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered to us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.                 ~ C.S. Lewis

How often is this portion of The Weight of Glory quoted with the first sentence conspicuously missing? We do a great disservice to God when we down play earthly enjoyment. We act embarrassed as if the Enemy, not the Father of Lights, created pleasure. In His unbounded grace, God gives bits of wonder and pleasure for us here because He loves us here, not just in heaven. Instead of sending thank you notes, we send out disclaimers, making all fruit forbidden.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights… ~ James 1:17

Here, and in the hereafter, God takes great delight in gift giving. The problem with mud pies is this: when we first start making them, we know they’re just pretend. But if we continue on, we start to confuse them for the real thing and begin to believe our make-believe is enough to sustain us. We lose our taste for the real thing. Maybe it’s time to write thank you notes for our daily pleasures and pack for a real holiday at the sea!