Crazy Forgiveness

"Bless those who curse you; bless and do not curse."

Those words of the Apostle Paul are typed in Courier New font atop my copy of The Devil in Pew Number Seven, which is the unbelievably gripping true story of a woman who saw both of her parents shot--her mother killed and father never to recover--as a seven-year-old.

While the details of the story are gripping enough, with the shooting of a mother and father in front of their two children serving as the culmination of a six-year campaign of terror waged against a rural pastor's family back in the 70's, the whole point of the book boils down to one word: forgiveness.


After devoting 12 chapters worth of ink mainly to the events leading up to and including her parents' shooting, the author, Rebecca Nichols Alonzo, spends three chapters largely describing and unpacking her on-going road to forgiving not only the gunman, but the man who had been behind the terrifying span of her early childhood that including 10 bombings of the pastor's house and church, and who ordered the final "hit" that would take her mother's life.

With incontrovertible evidence--and lawful convictions--in both cases, the two men served a combined 22 years in prison.

While her mother was shot to death in the episode, her father, the pastor, whose nerves had been stretched paper-thin in the years leading up to the fatal shooting of his wife, slipped in and out of paranoia in his remaining seven years, much of which was spent recovering physically from the two bullet wounds he suffered in the attack.

Justice was not served. Not by a long-shot.

In fact, the top investigator of the case, an agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, has been undone by the injustice in these cases, leaving a string of broken marriages in the wake of his 30-plus years of frustration over the shortcomings of the justice system.

Rebecca Nichols Alonzo, in stark contrast, had been taught to forgive her enemies and pray for her persecutors, both by the word and model of her parents.

When she was 16-years-old, entirely orphaned, Rebecca received a phone call from the madman who was behind all of the attacks, yet served only one year in prison.

He was out of prison at this point, but he had a completely surprising message for Rebecca: "I'm sorry".

Her response, even at 16, was completely beyond worldly explanation: "I told him my brother and I did forgive him. I told him, in fact, we had forgiven him long before he had asked for forgiveness."

As it turns out, the on-going witness of a pastor unwilling to return evil for evil had paid off, and this madman had repented and believed in the gospel after all. The pastor's life had been ruined, his wife killed, but his obedience had been rewarded.

The fact is, that we, as Christians, have absolutely no choice but to forgive. "Forgiveness is the language of heaven," Alonzo says, and she--if anyone--would have the right to shrug off such a command if it were optional to the believer.

This forgiveness is obviously shocking to the world, because it's impossible without knowing--or rather, being known by--a God who has forgiven our prideful belittling of His Glory and baseless murder of His Son. It took the death of His Son to make us His children, and we are to carry on that legacy of costly forgiveness.

A reporter for CNN that wrote a four-part series on Alonzo's book asked the author if she had been crazy to forgive the man who had drove her family to the brink of ruin and, ultimately, taken away the lives of both her parents:

"I'll tell you how I respond to that," she says. "If I had not forgiven, I would be crazy in an institution somewhere. My parents had planted the seeds of forgiveness in me as a little girl: Pray for those who persecute you and bless those who curse you."

With more time and ink to explain her road to forgiveness, Alonzo lays out her "top four" observations forged out of her thoroughly biblical lifelong path to forgiveness:

1. My sins will not be forgiven by God is I refuse to forgive those who have sinned against me. (see Matt. 18:35)
2. I miss an opportunity to show God's love to an unforgiving world.
3. I'm the one who remains in jail when I withhold God's grace by failing to forgive.
4. If I have trouble forgiving, it might be because I'm actually angry at God, not the person who wronged me.

Let me tell you, reading through this book over the last few days has served as a telescope for seeing afresh the gospel-arranged constellation standing all the way through Jesus' sermons and the rest of the New Testament--not to mention the entirety of the Old Testament, which continually calls God's people to wait upon His justice, to "leave room for the wrath of God."

God has forgiven me of the vilest, cruelest and ugliest of sin, and He commands me, as His child, to extend that same forgiveness to others, even though they may sin against me "seventy times seven."

This is the message I need to preach to myself daily, to keep the garden of my soul free from the weeds of bitterness, and to live as a free man, loved and accepted by the God of Heaven by the virtue of the death of His Son.

A Comparison Beyond Competition

I don't know about you, but I really enjoy a good competition, and there's no better sport to bring that out in than baseball.

In baseball, more than any other team sport, you've got the spotlight on a 1-on-1 competition throughout the whole game. Whether it's the pitcher versus the batter, the base-runner versus the catcher, or even the manager versus the umpire, the 1-on-1 element is there throughout the sport.

Games and playoff series often come down to a single play involving a mono-y-mono showdown, and sometimes, even an entire season can be decided by such a play.

One such moment happened to my beloved Giants this May. The Orange and Black was in the midst of defending its World Series title, when 2010 NL Rookie of the Year Buster Posey went down for the season on a play at the plate that not only cost the team the game, but--in hindsight--effectively ended the season with four months left to play.

While other team sports may not feature the same type of in-game individuality, there's always constant debating about who's the best. Is it Kobe or LeBron? Magic or Michael? Favre or Montana? Rice or Ocho Cinco?

Alright, maybe that last one was a bit of a throw-away, but you get my point. Matchups are really fun.

That's probably why the book of Hebrews is always a good read. The basic premise of the book is that Jesus is supreme over everyone and everything, and the repetition of the book has all the complexity of a "My dad can whip your dad" argument.

But the simplicity of the argument form doesn't by any means reflect a lack of depth with the book, which is widely considered to be a sort of transcribed sermon from the early church.

In fact, the simplicity of the "my dad can whip your dad" outline only serves to frame some of the most clear and precious truths of the gospel.

Over and over again, the writer (or preacher) holds up something rightly regarded as worthy of honor and, in many cases, even worship, and over and over again, he holds said thing up to the light of who Jesus is, putting that thing in its proper perspective and Jesus into his--as the supreme Son who is indeed the final Word of God to the people of God.

The goal of this repeated comparison (in which there really is no contest) is to worship Jesus and cling solely to him whose throne is forever (1:8, cf Ps. 45).

• In chapter one, Jesus is superior to the angels as the unique Son of God, image of God, creator of all, holder together of all things, heir to all things and final purifier of the sins of his people. 

• Chapter two sees Jesus further compared to angels, as the one who has tasted death for his people and sanctified us, and is therefore not ashamed to call us brothers.

• Chapter three trumpets Jesus' superiority to Moses, the greatest of Old Testament figures, who nonetheless is counted as less honor than Christ even as a servant is counted of less honor than a Son.

• Chapters three and four contain a solemn call to enter into the rest provided by Jesus (the true and better Sabbath), and chapter four ends by beginning a larger argument that will last through the end of the book. 

It's toward the beginning of this broad argument that the writer/preacher brings up the name Melchizedek, who stands above all Old Testament figures as a mystery man among men.

Melchizedek had been introduced in Genesis 14, just after Abram had returned from whipping up on some kings. Melchizedek is introduced as the king of Salem (which means peace) and as the Priest of the Most High God.

As the writer/preacher of Hebrews points out at the beginning of chapter seven, Melchizedek had basically come out of nowhere to bless Abram and collect 10 percent of the spoils from war. No genealogy, no father or mother, "no beginning of days nor end of life, but resembling the Son of God he continues as priest forever."

And this Melchizedek, having mysteriously entered and exited the human scene, has only one true successor to his priesthood. Who might that be? You guessed it, Jesus.

Jesus, as eternal and unique Son and Image of the Invisible God--that is, as God himself, is the fulfillment of this mystery-shrouded Melchizedek character. And this priesthood--not the Levitical priesthood of the Old testament--has always been ultimate in God's plan.

The Levitical priesthood, even at its best, was always going to be temporary. It was a shadow, and this mysterious priesthood, began in Melchizedek and completed in Christ, has always been and always will be the substance.

And the writer/preacher will go on to explain that not only was Christ the true successor to the priesthood of mysterious Melchizedek, it was Christ himself who was the one-time sacrifice that would stand permanently for his people.

Alright, I know what you're thinking (if you're still reading). You're thinking, "So What?"

Good question, because as exciting as comparisons to the Old Testament and the Levitical priesthood may be, we need to come away from our time in the Word with something that applies to our everyday lives.

To frame it another way, "How does Jesus being the true and better Melchizedek motivate me to love my neighbors, or submit to my boss, or lead my family?"

Well, I'm not exactly sure it works that way. But I do know that we are to worship Jesus, and that will change everything--all of who we are and all of how we interact with the world.

As people who belong to Christ, we are in the process of being shaped into the image of Christ, and that only comes about by beholding Christ, as 2 Corinthians 3:18 makes clear. Beholding is becoming.

So, take a minute and let's behold five truths about Christ in this text:

• Jesus is our everlasting "in" to the inner place beyond the veil, and he can get us beyond the curtain with him. (6:19-20)

• The power of an indestructible life--not tribal lineage--is what makes Jesus the true successor of Melchizedek. (7:16)

• Jesus' replacement of the Levitical priesthood ushers in a "better hope, through which we draw near to God." (7:19)

• Jesus is the guarantor of a better covenant. (7:22)

• Jesus' eternal nature and present on-going prayer for those who draw near to God through him means that he's able to save them (us!) to the uttermost (i.e. completely). (7:25)

If all of this is true, if it's true that Jesus is--right now, even as we speak--interceding for us before the Father, having offered himself up for us once and for all, then we can trust him, worship him and obey him.

If he's the guarantor of a better covenant, then we Christians can have faith to boldly proclaim the gospel as ambassadors of the King and heralds of good news.

If he's a priest based on the fact that he has indestructible life (think resurrection), then we know that nothing can separate us from his love.

Yes, as impractical as it may sound, worshiping this "Incomparable Christ" will change all of who we are.

The Easy Street to Cultural Currency

I don't mean to brag, but last night, I came home with quite a bit of coin.

In fact, I'll go so far to say that what I brought back from my new job at Easy Street Cafe amounted to the best 18 bucks I could have hoped for.

What's so impressive about the 18 dollarinos? I'm glad you asked.

A major portion of the answer revolves around the fact that, when you're training as a server, you're not supposed to walk out the door with any money whatsoever. The basic idea is that you know nothing, so you follow someone who does (kind of like a lost puppy), and you use that time to figure out what that particular restaurant's soup of the day happens to be, or what fries come with what sandwich, etc.

As you might expect--or know from experience--it doesn't take a superabundance of shifts to feel like you have a pretty good grasp on what you're supposed to be doing when the restaurant sets you loose on their patrons. So after two or three shifts, you're serving tables all by your lonesome, only to find yourself bequeathing all of your newly earned riches to the aforementioned server who knows way more than you do, but nonetheless has been doing very little work to earn the tip that you've just handed over.

My manager from Macaroni Grill had a kind way of reminding me of this when I was first starting out. As I was running around hocking wine and lasagna, Cliff took time out of his busy schedule to stop me and say, "You know what stinks about tonight? You're doing aaaaaalll of this work, and making no money."

Thanks, Cliff, I really appreciated your comment, and am in no way bitter even four years later...

Where was this blog going? Ah yes, the 18 bucks I made last night.

As I was saying before, you're not supposed to me making any money while you're training, and since I was still in training mode last night, I didn't go to work even expecting to cruise with 18 Washingtons. So, my low hopes were more than exceeded when both servers that I had been working alongside of approached me and offered me some 'atta-boy' cash.

What those 18 bones stood for was much more than just a couple dollars shy of 20. What they say, along with the actual words of the servers dealing them out, was that--at least for a night--my hard work had not gone unnoticed, and that my status as the new guy had been somewhat upgraded.

What those 18 dollars really stand for is forward movement toward cultural currency, the right to speak into the lives of others. It means that incremental progress has been made (if only a little) in building a platform for the proclamation of the Gospel in my workplace, and that thrills my heart.

You see, I really want the Lord to use me in this job--as long as He has me there--to be involved in the lives of my co-workers, to get to really know them and care for them, and to invite them into the life of my family--both home and church.

I really want them to see Christ as the all-satisfying Treasure that He is, and to know the joy of being called the sons (and daughters) of God.

If this motivation is true, then my pattern of work has to remain consistently Christ-centered. It means that I need to be careful to ask the right questions at my tables and pay attention to detail when I communicate the order back to the kitchen.

I really think there's few things more detrimental to the Gospel taking root in our workplaces than our failure to work hard. It's laughable at best, but blasphemy at worst to think that I can be a half-hearted employee and lousy co-worker, yet expect anyone to want to hear about the hope that I have within me.

It means that when everyone else stands around complaining about the heat, cold, humidity, slow night, slammed day, demanding boss, that I need to do all things without grumbling and complaining, and so shine like light in a dark world.

In short, all I'm talking about is living out our old friend, the Puritan Work Ethic, which is to say that the way we work reflects the way we think of our God. If we think lowly of God, then we will join the host of slackers and whiners that the world is chalked full of.

But, if we think highly of God, then we will realize that He put Adam in the Garden to work the land. That means that God created everyday work, blesses it, and desires for us to live out our passion for Him through our so-called Joe jobs.

Can you picture Jesus, while living out the active righteousness that we owed to God, working as a carpenter? It's not a glamorous job, to say the least.

Picture the One who not only spoke oak trees into being, but currently holds together by the word of His mouth, carefully crafting a cabinet or a table. Do you think He did shoddy work in His Nazareth storefront? Not likely.

For my part, I know I have been rescued by a great God who has done all that is needed for my salvation and my sanctification through the life, death and resurrection of Christ. And if this is all true, then it applies at Easy Street Cafe.

Pray that God would give me the strength to live this out, and I'll be praying for you.