Forgiveness: Those who tapped out when we needed them

This continues a Lenten series on forgiveness, focusing on the same kinds of sins that Jesus encountered and forgave. 

On the night in which he was betrayed, we know so many details of what Jesus did. And after dinner, he and some of his disciples went to a garden called Gethsemane. Jesus prayed. He asked his disciples to stay with him. His closest disciples, he asked them to stay close by him, to keep watch with him as he prayed. And they kept falling asleep. Over and over again. How often does Jesus ask for moral support? At the all-too-human moment of facing his own death, even as he prays, he asks for the company of his friends. And he keeps finding them asleep. It is an honor to be asked to watch with someone in their dark hour; that's easy to forget when it's late at night.

Are they unwilling? That's not the problem. He asked and they came with him. But after a good meal, and as the night wore on, their human frailty got the better of them. As Jesus said when he found them napping, "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak."

There are times when I am angry at the people who were not there in my hour of need. As we see with the disciples, that can happen even from a simple thing like a late hour and a good meal: the eyelids grow heavy, and we truly hope nobody needs us because we will not be awake. I tend to imagine that people would be there for me if only the other person really cared -- but Jesus teaches me better: sometimes it's not right to doubt the sincerity of their compassion, so much as to remember the weakness of our humanity.

Lord, help me to forgive those who did not do what they could, when I asked for support. May I call to mind their willingness, and the weakness of humanity that we share.

Forgiveness: Promises not kept

This continues a Lenten series on forgiveness. The series follows kinds of sins that Jesus encountered and forgave, and if I could find the grace to forgive others for the same. 

• "Even if all should fall away, I will not." -- Peter, on the night in which Jesus was betrayed
• "I don't know the man!" -- Peter, within 24 hours ... outside the place where the trial was held

Peter tried. He really did. When Jesus was arrested, most of the disciples scattered. Peter didn't run away, he followed. He said he'd be there for Jesus even if it cost his own arrest, even if it cost his own life. He wanted to have that much courage. He watched the others run to avoid arrest, even his own brother Andrew and his old fishing partners James and John. He watched his leader arrested, watched him being mocked and slapped around by the soldiers. He was the only one of Jesus' followers there, but he wasn't alone. He was surrounded by people who were on the other side, and they were starting to turn their attention to him. At some point his nerve failed. 

It's easy to blame him, and maybe easy to forgive him. The reason we see his failings -- and his alone: honestly, wasn't that because he was the only one who was still there? Yes, he fell away, but everyone else had fallen away sooner. 

There are times when I look at people who made promises they did not keep. Am I sure I've never been the one who fell away? Am I angry or disappointed when someone makes a promise they didn't keep -- but give a pass to people who didn't even try? Sometimes we hit our limits. We're human. As we remember in Lent: We are dust, and to dust we will return. 

Lord, may I forgive the promises not kept. May I remember the hope and well-wishes that were the intent of the promise, and forgive the human weakness that prevented its fulfillment. May I remember how easy it is not to know quite what we're up against, not to know what the future holds -- and show mercy gladly and willingly for those who offered a promise that they had intended to keep, but later did not. 

Forgiveness: Sins committed in ignorance

Jesus often focused on forgiveness. If the central focus of his life is found in his journey to the cross, then forgiveness deserves a more central place in my own thoughts and my own life. When I think of forgiveness, I often think of the forgiveness that I need to receive. How often do I think of the forgiveness that I need to give? 

First I will focus on something that may be easier for me: sins against me that were done in ignorance. 

"Father, forgive them, for they don't know what they're doing." -- Jesus, at his execution

In the Bible, the Law of Moses has a thread of teaching that sins of ignorance are more easily forgiven than sins of defiance (see, for example, Numbers 15:22-30). The apostle Peter speaks of sins committed in ignorance (Acts 3:17), as did the apostle Paul (Acts 17:30, 1 Timothy 1:13). Most notably, Jesus spoke of it at his execution, praying that his executioners be forgiven because they did not know what they  were doing (Luke 23:34). 

Of the times that other people have wronged me, were some of them done unknowingly or because of mistaken information? Once I heard someone make a passionate speech for action and I wanted to find a way to help, asking "What can we do?" She publicly mocked me for being defeatist. Looking back, I know that "What can we do?" is sometimes used in a defeatist way, but I had meant it sincerely. It stung to be publicly held up to ridicule, especially when my meaning was very much the opposite. Again, once I knew some people who were continually hostile to me, and I did not find out til years later that someone had been telling them tales which were far from true. I suppose it's possible the tale-teller believed the things they were saying -- that didn't make it right, or any more pleasant to find out that anyone believed it. Confusions and misunderstandings, missing information and missed guesses, they're all part of the world we live in. If I were the one who made the bad assumption, what would I think if someone held a grudge against me for it? 

I consider when Jesus was being executed. The judges had ordered him to be put to death. How were the soldiers to know the rest of the story? They were caught up in other peoples' mistakes or lies or corruption. Jesus forgave them. So if someone misunderstood or misinterpreted my meaning, if someone believed a lie told about me -- am I willing to forgive them? 

Lord, may I forgive the sins committed against me in ignorance. May I remember how easy it is to simply not know the truth, or not know the fullness of the truth, to trust the wrong person -- and show mercy gladly and willingly for those who have wronged me, not knowing what they do. 

One gentle breeze at a time

Today is the first day that has felt like spring -- at least the afternoon has. I spotted a cat and a lizard sunning themselves ... while I was out sunning myself and catching a few deep breaths of air that didn't smell indoor-stale from a long winter. 

I cleaned out some unwanted plants, planted some seeds, and generally enjoyed the hope for new beginnings that comes with spring. 

I think there are more layers than I have appreciated when Jesus compares the kingdom of God to a seed that is planted, and compares faith to a mustard seed. Every year there is another chance. Every year there is more growth. Every year the harvest continues. "A harvest of righteousness," and first-fruits measured in terms of people. 

In the upcoming weeks I plan to post a Lenten series, as I do in many years. But for today, before the penitential season of Lent, my spiritual "Mardi Gras" is to love the milder world of spring, one gentle breeze at a time.

Is self-hatred a sin?

If you are one of those fortunate people who has never struggled with self-hatred, you may find this topic outside of your experience and might consider skipping it. But if you know the struggle, maybe take a walk with me through some thoughts on the topic. 

I think "Is it a sin?" can be the wrong question. First, if "too much self-condemnation" is the problem, then "even more self-condemnation" cannot be the answer. The question is more about how to exit the turmoil inside when thoughts of self-hatred come along -- and cling like burs in the spring-time. 

Because of the place of love and forgiveness in God's judgment, I see self-hatred as against God's will; and yet not everything that is against God's will falls under the category of "sin." If we look at the world to come as a guide to things that are fully God's will, then the world to come has no death or illness -- but these things are not sinful themselves; it is not a sin to be sick or die. Mourning has no place in the world to come, but for today, "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted."

And there is a kind of intentional self-hatred that I expect is a sin. If I see a train of thought starting and turn my thoughts against myself by design, if I set about self-hatred willingly, I have no doubt this is wrong, and in a way for which I'm responsible. 

But self-hatred can also be a form of spiritual malnutrition: if we lack experience of acceptance and love, if we have not seen a mistake met with compassion and understanding, then we may need more spiritual tools and spiritual growth before we have the ability to respond with compassion and understanding. 

Condemnation and accusation are among the tools of evil. One of Satan's titles is "the accuser." So there are times when self-accusation and self-hatred are the front lines of a spiritual battle. (I'm not usually one to talk of "spiritual battles." That phrase has unfortunately picked up common usage in settings where every thought is dramatized in a way that loses my patience. Still, there are certain times where certain things feel like battles, and for me this is one of them.) So it may be more useful to think of self-hatred as something of a spiritual battle, one where nobody has handed me the spiritual tools or training to fend off that attack, and yet it can be done. It can be more helpful to think of arming up with the Lord's tools for the fight: truth, faith, righteousness and the like. 

Coming back to the point about spiritual malnutrition, it can be helpful for the spiritually starving to be guided to faith, hope, and love. These are found in Christ, found in the confidence that we have value in the eyes of God, which brought Christ to fight for us. The Scriptures are full of reminders of our value in the eyes of God, of the shepherd looking for the sheep, of the woman who would not stop looking til she found what she had lost, the father who would not give up hope that one day his lost son would return, ready to welcome and celebrate. 

Those who preach God's love for us, they feed the sheep.

Spiritual Wishlist: A generous and joyful humility

Sometimes I carelessly think of humility as something near to self-hatred, or (more mildly) at least something like self-forgetfulness. I suppose "self-forgetfulness" is closer to the mark, but whenever I define humility in terms of its relation to myself, I am sure that I have missed the point: humility is about a frame of reference that does not define everything by referring back to ourselves. 

Humility affirms our own lovability in the same breath that it affirms others' lovability. Humility makes room for others by a generous spirit:

• generosity in our thoughts about them, consideration and attention and thoughtfulness
• generosity in listening to them, rather than biding our time to talk
• generosity in recognizing their best actions 
• generosity in recognizing their contributions
• generosity in focus on others, and including them in my thoughts
• generosity in making sure they are heard and understood
• a willingness to delight in someone else's accomplishments

Humility is also lived out in compassion for their failures, as I've had my own too. 

For me, that's often a struggle. It takes deliberate effort: Loving the world, one kind thought at a time. 

"Love the Lord your God" -- making it accessible

When Jesus was asked what was the single greatest commandment, he said it was first to love the Lord our God, and that the second was like it: to love our neighbors as ourselves. And I am grateful that he followed up, because by myself I have no idea how to love God. The idea of loving God is not accessible to me, unless there is some help given. I have never seen God.

Jesus was only asked for one greatest commandment; he responded as though two are inseparable. His disciple John also spoke similarly: "If a man says, 'I love God' and hates his brother, he is a liar. For someone who does not love his brother that he has seen, how can he love God, who is unseen?" (1 John 4:20)

He was asked about commandments: ethics, morality, religion, law. These are things that we tend to imagine in the abstract. In Luke's account of such a conversation, the follow-up question was, "Who is my neighbor?" Jesus' answer is what we now call the Parable of the Good Samaritan. Jesus' answer shows that we don't get to evade loving our neighbor based on any of the usual excuses that we want to use to justify our divisions. But it shows it by re-contextualizing the whole conversation. The conversation is not about what looks good in a law book, or sounds good in a sermon or a philosophy text. The conversation is about what happens when we are going about our daily business and see someone in need. That's where we find a meaningful answer to loving our neighbor.

According to John, that's the first step in finding a meaningful answer to loving God, too.