I first saw the musical on stage with my "little" brother, starring the incomparable Colm Wilkinson in the role of Valjean. Most recently, I sat spellbound through the screen production starring Anne Hathaway and Hugh Jackman. It is the only movie I have ever watched twice in the theatre.
Why does this tale grip me so? Because it is the story of a wretched sinner, saved by grace. It is the story of forgiveness and redemption and a life reborn. It is the gospel.
"Take an eye for an eye, turn your heart into stone.
This is all I have lived for. This is all I have known.
One word from him, and I'd be back
Beneath the lash, upon the rack.
Instead he offers me my freedom.
I feel my shame inside me like a knife.
He told me that I have a soul. How does he know?
What spirit comes to move my life?
Is there another way to go?
I am reaching, but I fall, and the night is closing in
As I stare into the void, to the whirlpool of my sin.
I'll escape now from that world,
From the world of Jean Valjean.
Jean Valjean is nothing now. Another story must begin."
And so it does. The hardened sinner is reborn into a man of grace and compassion. The man forgiven becomes the one who forgives, even when it means great personal sacrifice. In a story replete with angry people who are disappointed with each other and with God, Valjean shines like a star in the darkness. It is a beautiful, beautiful tale. I love the story, because I want it to be mine. I want to live that kind of life of forgiveness.
But living that kind of life is hard. Forgiveness is hard. It is one thing to see it played out in the pages of a book, or on a theatre screen. It is entirely different when I am the one who has to look into the eyes of those who have hurt me, and let them go free. That is hard. So hard, in fact, that sometimes I think it is impossible outside the cross of Jesus Christ.
Let's face it; there are wounds, and then there are wounds. There is the careless word that cuts, and then there are the words deliberately spoken to wound and destroy. There is the moment of forgetfulness, and then there are the moments of neglect and abandonment that pile up like thick scabs over bruised and bleeding hearts. There are the unintentionally broken promises, and then there are the promises that are deliberately thrown to the floor at my feet, where they shatter into shrapnel that penetrates deep and festers. There are the misunderstandings, and then there are the blows of abuse that rain down on us, drowning us in an ocean of pain and tears. "Take an eye for an eye. Turn your heart into stone." It sometimes seems like the only way to survive. To retain a tender heart feels too costly. It seems right, logical, sensible to prevent further injury by locking my broken heart behind a fortress of bitterness and unforgiveness where it cannot be further blighted. Forgiveness feels impossible.
But God says, "Forgive one another, just as God in Christ forgave you."
I've heard all kinds of nonsense about this. I've heard people say things like, "If you really understood the depth of what you have been forgiven, you'd realise that the sins committed against you are nothing." Do we really want to look at the atrocities which fill our newspapers daily and call them nothing? Hardly. I've heard people say, "Forgive and forget. If you haven't forgotten, you haven't forgiven." Do we really want to suggest that somehow forgiveness means a purging from our memories of the travesties committed against us? Do we really think the Holocaust survivor will ever be able to forget the memories of the camps? Do we truly want to suggest that the abuse victim will have no recollection of the abuse committed against him? Are we really going to believe that, one day, the grieving widow whose husband was kidnapped and brutally murdered will one day wake up and "forget" that he had been murdered? It's not even logical. To remember her husband is to remember how he died.
And yet, God says, "Forgive one another, just as God in Christ forgave you."
There is something in forgiveness that drives me back to the cross. Back to the cross, again, and again. And it is there, at the cross, that I find my answer.
It is not that if I truly understood the magnitude of what I have been forgiven that forgiving others would be a cake-walk. It is that when I look at the cross, I recognise the supreme all-sufficiency of God's grace to cover sin. ALL sin. My sin toward God. And the sin committed against me. Christ's sacrifice on the cross is not sufficient only to cover the overwhelming cost of my debt to God. It is sufficient to also cover the considerable cost of others' debt to me - and my debt to others. Christ's sacrifice on the cross covers ALL my debt - and leaves me debt-free. With everyone.
So forgiveness becomes possible. Not because your debt to me is insignificant - it may be vast. Not because I am simply "forgetting" the debt, as if it never happened. No, forgiveness is possible because the debt has already been paid in full. But not by you. Forgiveness means that I am driven not to you to cover your debt to me, but back to the cross. When I look at Jesus' broken and bleeding body, I am compelled to recognise that "grace is enough" to cover not just my debt to God, but your debt to me, however big that debt may be. I don't need you to pay me back the debt you owe, because I am no longer wanting. When I stand at Jesus' nailed feet and look up into that battered dear face, I must have the humility to stop demanding that you pay me back for the debt you owe me, and accept from those pierced and bleeding hands the grace-payment that covers all debts.
And that's why Jesus can say, "If you do not forgive others, you will not be forgiven." It isn't a threat. He's not saying, Do this, or else. It's simply a fact. I either accept the all-sufficiency of his sacrifice on the cross, or I do not. I don't get to pick "part-sufficiency". I don't get to pick "sufficiency to cover my debt to God" but walk away from "sufficiency to cover your debt to me". There is no part-sufficiency. It's all or nothing. Either grace is enough, or it is not. There is simply no in-between. So when Jesus says, "If you do not forgive others, you will not be forgiven," it is because if I don't recognise the sufficiency of his sacrifice to cover those horizontal debts, then I don't recognise the sufficiency of his sacrifice. Period. I have walked away from his grace.
Valjean understood grace. He knew his soul belonged to God. He knew his debt was covered. When the Spirit comes to move your life, there is another way to go, and he had found it. So, when he had the opportunity to revenge himself against his pursuer-through-the-years, instead, he set his enemy free. He forgave. He stood eyeball-to-eyeball with his accuser, in a situation where he had all the power, and his enemy had none, and he cut the cords which bound the man he feared, and set him free, and walked away. Forgiven. And forgiving.
Because when your soul belongs to God, his grace fills you so that no debt remains. None at all.
All debt. Forgiven.
And I walk free.
I've heard all kinds of nonsense about this. I've heard people say things like, "If you really understood the depth of what you have been forgiven, you'd realise that the sins committed against you are nothing." Do we really want to look at the atrocities which fill our newspapers daily and call them nothing? Hardly. I've heard people say, "Forgive and forget. If you haven't forgotten, you haven't forgiven." Do we really want to suggest that somehow forgiveness means a purging from our memories of the travesties committed against us? Do we really think the Holocaust survivor will ever be able to forget the memories of the camps? Do we truly want to suggest that the abuse victim will have no recollection of the abuse committed against him? Are we really going to believe that, one day, the grieving widow whose husband was kidnapped and brutally murdered will one day wake up and "forget" that he had been murdered? It's not even logical. To remember her husband is to remember how he died.
And yet, God says, "Forgive one another, just as God in Christ forgave you."
There is something in forgiveness that drives me back to the cross. Back to the cross, again, and again. And it is there, at the cross, that I find my answer.
It is not that if I truly understood the magnitude of what I have been forgiven that forgiving others would be a cake-walk. It is that when I look at the cross, I recognise the supreme all-sufficiency of God's grace to cover sin. ALL sin. My sin toward God. And the sin committed against me. Christ's sacrifice on the cross is not sufficient only to cover the overwhelming cost of my debt to God. It is sufficient to also cover the considerable cost of others' debt to me - and my debt to others. Christ's sacrifice on the cross covers ALL my debt - and leaves me debt-free. With everyone.
So forgiveness becomes possible. Not because your debt to me is insignificant - it may be vast. Not because I am simply "forgetting" the debt, as if it never happened. No, forgiveness is possible because the debt has already been paid in full. But not by you. Forgiveness means that I am driven not to you to cover your debt to me, but back to the cross. When I look at Jesus' broken and bleeding body, I am compelled to recognise that "grace is enough" to cover not just my debt to God, but your debt to me, however big that debt may be. I don't need you to pay me back the debt you owe, because I am no longer wanting. When I stand at Jesus' nailed feet and look up into that battered dear face, I must have the humility to stop demanding that you pay me back for the debt you owe me, and accept from those pierced and bleeding hands the grace-payment that covers all debts.
And that's why Jesus can say, "If you do not forgive others, you will not be forgiven." It isn't a threat. He's not saying, Do this, or else. It's simply a fact. I either accept the all-sufficiency of his sacrifice on the cross, or I do not. I don't get to pick "part-sufficiency". I don't get to pick "sufficiency to cover my debt to God" but walk away from "sufficiency to cover your debt to me". There is no part-sufficiency. It's all or nothing. Either grace is enough, or it is not. There is simply no in-between. So when Jesus says, "If you do not forgive others, you will not be forgiven," it is because if I don't recognise the sufficiency of his sacrifice to cover those horizontal debts, then I don't recognise the sufficiency of his sacrifice. Period. I have walked away from his grace.
Valjean understood grace. He knew his soul belonged to God. He knew his debt was covered. When the Spirit comes to move your life, there is another way to go, and he had found it. So, when he had the opportunity to revenge himself against his pursuer-through-the-years, instead, he set his enemy free. He forgave. He stood eyeball-to-eyeball with his accuser, in a situation where he had all the power, and his enemy had none, and he cut the cords which bound the man he feared, and set him free, and walked away. Forgiven. And forgiving.
Because when your soul belongs to God, his grace fills you so that no debt remains. None at all.
"One word from Him, and I'd be back
Beneath the lash, upon the rack.
Instead He offers me my freedom."
All debt. Forgiven.
And I walk free.
No comments:
Post a Comment