43 
The Passion to Forgive
Timothy Diggorsfeld’s unexpected visitor tried to take in the minister’s last words.
They had fallen like a divine chisel against encrusted traditional explanations of the atonement he had been struggling with for many years. “Because of his holiness—which is a good holiness, not a self-righteous holiness,” Timothy continued, “God wants to forgive, not punish. Forgiveness is the Father’s passion toward sin, not retribution. Of course, forgiveness always comes with a price. Yet it is what he is continually striving to achieve.—But tell me about this explosion that went off in your brain.”
The young man smiled. “Many explosions seem to be going off,” he answered. “I suppose even before I came here today I was gradually seeing glimmers of what you have just been saying. When I read the tract, the phrase ‘He does not protect us from God’ jumped off the page at me. Suddenly I realized that perhaps God might not be a vindictive, condemning judge, intent on exacting punishment of the innocent to satisfy his divine justice.”
“What do you think he might be instead?”
The young man hesitated and glanced down, as if the idea were too wonderful to take in.
“I am still trying to get my mind around it,” he said after a moment, “and what you just said adds a new piece to the puzzle. But what I am wondering is whether God might not be the avenging judge theology has made of him, but might rather be a loving Father to whom Jesus wants to take us in order that he may forgive our sins. In other words, a Father whose arms are open to receive us and to whom Jesus takes us, rather than a Father from whom he must protect us . . . a Father—I can hardly say it, but this is what I am thinking—with a smile of welcome on his face rather than a scowl of rebuke.”
“An uncommon view,” commented Timothy with hint of a smile. “In other words, just like the Father of Jesus Christ.”
“Yes,” said the young man excitedly. “But . . . could it be true!”
“I think it very likely.”
“Do you see what a difference it would make! It would mean that Jesus did not come to rescue us from God’s wrath, but to introduce us to his Father’s love. All of a sudden everything in the Gospels makes more sense. Even his death makes sense now. The injustice that fell upon him was man’s, not God’s. Jesus yielded to that injustice because of love. Thus he makes atonement for my sin, not only as a symbol of the Old Testament sacrifice, but to show me how much I am loved by both him and his Father, and to take me to his Father to cleanse me of the very sin that did not stain him.”
“I see you have been thinking this through very thoroughly,” smiled Timothy. “You almost begin to sound like a theologian yourself.”
The young man returned his smile sheepishly.
“I have tried to get to the bottom of what it may mean,” he said. “And yes, to be honest, I have studied and thought about the atonement a great deal, even prayed to God for insight about it. I want to make sense of it.”
“I applaud you for that effort,” said Timothy. “If only more Christians were as earnest about their system of beliefs as you are.”
“Upon the basis of what I have been thinking since reading this tract, if it is true, I can accept Jesus as my Savior and Lord, something I was never prepared to do before.”
He paused, then added quietly, “No . . . I want to accept him as my Savior and Lord.”
He looked earnestly at Timothy.
“So I have to ask you,” he said, and his voice was as one dying of thirst in the desert approaching Timothy as his final hope of finding water, “—do you consider this new revelation—at least it is new to me—that Jesus desires to take us to the Father rather than save us from his wrath . . . do you consider it possible? If not I must surely give up my quest, for I have exhausted every other explanation of Jesus’ life and death.”
“I not only consider it possible,” replied Timothy, “I consider it true. Triumphantly true! With all my heart I believe that our salvation as Christians exists in love rather than in the satisfaction of divine justice. Do not get me wrong. There is divine justice, and we will all face it. But it is a justice of love, not a justice of retribution. God is a good, fair, and just Judge, not a vindictive, condemning, angry Judge. He is a Judge we will want to face, for he will make everything right, including our sin, and will make truth prevail throughout the universe.”
“Do you believe in the cross?”
“Of course,” replied Timothy. “Without the cross there is no salvation. The death and resurrection of Christ are the greatest demonstrations of love the world has ever known. And by that love, atonement is made for our sins. Atonement originates in the loving forgiveness of a holy, righteous, and forgiving Father, not in the satisfaction of a vengeance, which foolish theologians call ‘holy,’ yet is anything but. Such demean the holiness of God by expending their energies inventing theological theories rather than doing the truth. They have set themselves to speculate concerning the mysteries of God’s forgiveness rather than yield to the Fatherhood out of whose heart that forgiveness flows. They read their Bibles in a condition of heart in which it is impossible for them to unearth its truths. They presume to explain the Christ to whom years of obedience could alone have made them able to comprehend. Forgive me,” he said. “I sometimes become quite exasperated with my colleagues.”
He smiled and took a deep breath.
“Let me try to put it like this,” he went on. “God’s wrath is all against sin, not against mankind. He is bound by his holiness, not to punish the sinner but to destroy sin. And destroy it altogether. Toward this end the death of Christ on the cross is the victorious weapon against which sin, hell, and the devil himself cannot stand. The victory of the cross will be complete.”
“You cannot imagine how happy it makes me to hear you talk so,” said Timothy’s visitor, beaming. “You have set my heart to rest on many things. Would you then tell me what to do to become a Christian, to accept Jesus as my Savior?”
“Nothing would delight me more,” said Timothy. “The Bible says to believe by faith in Jesus Christ, and confess that belief. You have already evidenced your belief and confessed it to me today. So you are possibly already a believer. Jesus himself talks about repentance along with belief. And baptism is also an important New Testament symbol that you have become his disciple. All these elements—belief, faith, repentance, confession, and baptism—are involved.”
“Yes, I would like to be baptized too.”
“Good, we can talk about that later. You must keep in mind that there is not necessarily a formula to be followed,” Timothy went on. “God knows each individual heart. The most important thing is responding to him personally. But each of these elements can and usually does accompany that heart response to God to one degree or another.”
“I do not want to leave anything out. Once I make up my mind on something, I give myself to it all the way.”
“Then why do we not pray together and you can tell the Lord what is in your heart, and that you want to follow him and obey him.”
The young man bowed his head and closed his eyes. From the way he spoke and his familiarity with New Testament concepts, Timothy could see that he was no stranger to church life, just as he said, even though having stumbled over the common prescription for salvation.
“Dear Jesus,” the young man began, “I am sorry for being so slow about acknowledging my belief in you. But I just couldn’t understand before. I think I do now. I repent of my sins. I thank you for dying on the cross and shedding your blood that my sins could be forgiven. Thank you for showing me the way to deny myself by your willingness to endure suffering and death. I ask you to come into my life and I accept you as my Savior and Lord. I believe in you and trust you by faith for my salvation. I pray that you will help me grow as a Christian. From this day on I want to live for you, obey you, and be your disciple.”
He opened his eyes and glanced up. Timothy’s face was aglow.
“Is there anything else?” he asked.
“I think you should also address the Father,” said Timothy. “Remember, Jesus is your Savior because, as you said yourself, he wants to open your heart to intimacy with the Father.”
The young man closed his eyes again.
“Dear heavenly Father,” he prayed, “thank you that you are not a tyrant like they say, but that you love the world . . . and that you loved me enough to send your only Son to tell me about you and show me the way to have an intimate relationship with you. I want to be your child and to walk with you as my Father. Thank you for forgiving my sins through the death of your Son. Help me to get to know both you and Jesus better. Help me to begin seeing you as a tender, loving Father. Reveal your character to me and show me what you want me to do.”
Again he opened his eyes. They were glistening as he smiled at Timothy.
“Thank you,” he said. “I cannot tell you what this means to me.—So . . . what should I do now? How do I begin living as Jesus’ disciple?”
“It is very simple, really,” replied Timothy. “You have been doing a good deal of it already.”
A puzzled expression came over the young man’s face.
“Keep reading your New Testament,” Timothy went on, “—in particular the Gospels. Find what Jesus told his followers to do . . . then do it. I would be happy to have you join in a Bible study or two that we have in the church in which we attempt to help one another toward that end. There is nothing more to the Christian life than that—simply doing what Jesus said. Jesus himself said it this way: Follow me.”