If you believe that Jesus was God, then wasn’t he armed with the foreknowledge of his crucifixion? If you believe that Jesus was merely a good man, a revolutionary, then wasn’t he savvy enough to know that every good revolutionary dies young? There can be no doubt: the foreshadowing of Jesus’ death was heavy on him, and this, I think, makes his teachings on forgiveness even more poignant.
Consider the perceiving Jesus, the one who knows the hearts of the Pharisees, the men who want nothing more than to end his messianic claims. Consider the savvy Jesus, he knowing that Roman justice suffers no revolutionary, he seeing the shadowy side of Judas. His enemies are coming, coming, always coming. They are dark horses on the horizon, always. They are walking snares, people hell-bent on a lynching.
Consider Jesus armed with this knowledge. Then consider his teachings.
“But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven” (Matt. 5:44–45). As he spoke the words, was he mindful of the religious rulers who would turn him over to Roman justice? Did he release all resentment?
Consider Jesus’ command to Peter that forgiveness extend not seven times “but up to seventy times seven.” As he spoke to the disciple, did his mind’s eye conjure an image of the Roman torturers? Was he tempted toward future revenge; did he release that too?
A good man may teach abstract principles of forgiveness and be considered good. But when a good man teaches abstract principles of forgiveness, when he carries an ethos of forgiveness in the face of the most vile of persecutions, when his dying words are an actualized extension of all of his teachings on the topic, we call him great. We call him Emmanuel, God with us.
Jesus left us with teachings, yes. He left us also with a way to peace. Through Christ’s Gethsemenean bending of his will, through his suffering, through the extension of forgiveness to the persecutors of his past, present, and future, we receive forgiveness in our own right. Christ’s words of forgiveness were spoken from Golgotha, but they stretched across all time in space, bending the laws of physics in a holy quantum event. They stretched backward into history, setting right the wrongs that found their genesis in Eden. The words stretched into the future too, stretched to forgive the wrongs of our day. They were powerful enough to stretch to us, to forgive us of our violences, our idolatrous missteps, our sins of unknowing.
What is the essence of Christ-centered forgiveness? It is the releasing of our debtors of all past wrongs. As Buddy Wakefield, spoken-word poet, says, “Forgiveness is releasing all hope for a better past.” At the same time, though, forgiveness is the manner of preparing oneself to forgive all future debts, of releasing all expectation of a pain-free future.
Forgiveness is unbounded by time and space. It operates within the fifth dimension to this dynamic marvel we call life.
There are ways around this sort of living, yes. We can avoid the pain of the past, the confrontation of any of our accusers. We can numb everything as a way to avoid exploring our histories, to avoid the necessity of mustering a forgiving spirit. Alcohol was my best anesthesia, but any addiction will do. I don’t have to tell you yours.
Coping is easier for a season, isn’t it?
The best medicine for the pain, though, is to extend the forgiveness of Christ.
Jesus Christ, that’s a tough pill to swallow.