10

No Losers

One type of disaster is worse than all others—perhaps not always in its consequences, but in the internal pain it wreaks. That is the disaster we make ourselves.

It is one thing to be minding our own business in life, only to get slammed with an illness or a job loss or some other reversal. It is quite another to torpedo ourselves through an undeniable mistake. The person who steps outside of his or her marriage . . . the trusted employee who mishandles corporate funds . . . the boyfriend and girlfriend who unthinkingly conceive a child one Saturday night . . . the young man who rejects his faith and turns instead to drugs or alcohol . . . the person who betrays a longtime friend. These are not cases of “It happened to me.” These are cases of “I did it.”

The fallout may be swift, or not. If it is slow, we may rationalize our actions for a while. We don’t like to admit that we messed up. We stall as long as we can. Only when outside realities force us to the ugly truth do we admit it. Only when a spouse explodes in enlightened rage, or the police move in, or the doctor confirms that a baby is indeed on the way, do we grudgingly confess what has been going on.

What is sometimes hard for us to appreciate at this point is that more than just fate is working against us. It is more than a matter of our luck running out. Behind the scenes, God is at work, quietly but irresistibly bringing us to his mirror to get a close-up look at what we’re really like. The events of our life are his pressure bars, gradually nudging us where we would not otherwise go, until we are confronted with ourselves.

Then what happens? Once we own up to the fact that we have thrown our own life into a tailspin, is everything lost? Is there any hope to regain our balance? What does God think of his errant child?

*   *

While we were living and working in Malaybalay during the 1990s, an ugly thing was exposed at one of our mission schools. It didn’t affect our three children; I was homeschooling them at the time. But it touched the lives of many other families. We were all saddened and upset as the individual was sent back to the States, dismissed from further service.

I remember going to church one Sunday morning with a heavy heart. Our church was on the main street near the top of a hill, and the whine of the jeepneys (minibuses) and the motorelas (motorcycle taxis with a sidecar) chugging up the slope came through the open windows. I slipped into my seat hoping to find some calm.

The service began. I was still rumbling inside with frustration. I found it hard to concentrate during worship.

And then a good friend of mine, Joy Santa Maria, stood up to sing a solo, a new song at the time entitled “In Heaven’s Eyes.” The words by Phill McHugh grabbed my attention. They described a hurting person’s cry to God. The longer Joy sang, the more I was moved by the Lord’s response to this anonymous individual: “Gazing down on this unlovely one, there was love in heaven’s eyes.”

I sat there thinking deeply about the “unlovely one” whose deeds had so exasperated us all. The song was forcing me to try to view him through heaven’s eyes instead of my own. I didn’t want to do that, but I knew I should.

By the time I had listened to the chorus the second time (“In heaven’s eyes, there are no losers”[9]), tears were streaming down my face. I could not escape the fact that God’s grace is available to help us all in our time of need. The offender, if he will ask for it . . . the victim, if he wants it. God does not look down from heaven and pick only some to receive his grace. He freely extends it to all. Jesus taught us in the Sermon on the Mount, “Your Father in heaven . . . gives his sunlight to both the evil and the good, and he sends rain on the just and on the unjust, too” (Matthew 5:45).

I could not get away from the fact that even if we have created our own chaos, God knows and listens. He sees the fiasco, and he feels the pain of disappointment. His response is not anger but rather compassion.

I knew in my heart that I had to forgive this person. It was very hard. If I stiffened my back against forgiveness, not only would I be disobedient but the smoldering anger would sap my strength. I had to let go of righteous indignation and recognize that God’s grace was big enough to forgive and heal.

In other words, I had to remain humble and aware of my own tendency to sin. Even though what had happened was not my sin, it would engender sin if I hardened my heart against the individual. I prayed, “Lord, how can I forgive this sinner?” And the answer came loud and clear: “Forgive us our sins, just as we have forgiven those who have sinned against us” (Matthew 6:12).

I chose in that moment to forgive. I don’t think I drummed up the forgiveness from within; I believe God gave it to me in that moment, as I chose to obey.

The opposite of forgiveness is bitterness. When you let seeds of bitterness take root in your heart, your whole life becomes tainted. The bitterness you hold against one person soon spreads to others. You continue to collect offenses, seeing the worst in others, getting picky about little things, even plotting revenge. In such a case, you become the loser.

But Grace stands ready with open arms. All it takes to unleash it is one decision to give up your own way and choose God’s way of forgiveness.

I guess the tears in that service were for me. I found myself amazed by the grace I could find . . . in heaven’s eyes.