Forgiving Those Who Hurt Us: Part 2

“Why We Don’t Forgive”

A famine in Canaan forced Jacob to send ten of his sons to Egypt to buy life-sustaining grain. (Benjamin, dad’s new favorite, stayed home.) When they arrived, they were given an audience with the architect of Egypt’s grain surplus. What a twist of fate! The man was none other than Joseph, though his brothers didn’t recognize an older, Eyptianized Joseph. But Joseph recognized them immediately.

Put yourself in Joseph’s shoes. Standing before you are the brothers who conspired to destroy you. Their cruelty caused you incredible suffering--sold to slave traders, re-sold to an Egyptian official, falsely accused of rape, imprisoned, and more. But now your day has come. Though you buried the hatchet years ago, you now have an unexpected opportunity to dig it up and hack your brothers down to size. What will you do?

Joseph didn’t seem to know what to do with them so he remained a stranger and spoke harshly to them: You are spies! You have come to see where our land is unprotected. He then threw them all in prison. Then on second thought, he released all but Simeon who would only be released if they returned with their brother Benjamin (Joseph’s only full brother). Was Joseph toying with them? punishing them?

Biblical stores are not fairy tales which offer simple problems and simple solutions. Forgiveness for deep hurts is seldom quick or easy—and it wasn’t for Joseph. Why is it hard? Forgiveness often feels like we are letting people get away with something. Joseph didn’t want his brothers “to admit [they] made a mistake, flip an apology in [his] direction, and go on as if [they] had done nothing worse than burping before dessert.”

Like Joseph, we may want to deliver some pain to our abusers--a wife who bitterly complains to her husband about his work schedule, knowing that her nagging wounds him; the employee who sharpens his dagger of bitterness so that he can slash his lazy workmate; a brother who frequently broadcasts the cruel deeds of an older brother, hoping to shame the brother who caused him so much agony as a child.

Though we may enjoy tormenting those who have tormented us, this is not God’s solution to our pain.

Joseph: Dad's Favorite

Imagine growing up with eleven brothers and your Dad had an obvious favorite—and it’s not you! On one occasion your festive father came home with a brand new, top-of-the-line leather coat for the favorite. But then Dad herded the rest of you to Goodwill to choose one of their second-hand coats. Now Jacob loved Joseph more than any of his other sons, ... and he made him a richly ornamented robe for him. In time, your animosity toward this brother consumed you. When his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of them, they hated him and could not speak a kind word to him. But your brother wasn’t content to accept his special standing with humility. Listen to this dream I had: We were binding sheaves of grain out in the field when suddenly my sheaf rose and stood upright, while your sheaves gathered around mine and bowed down to it. Your brother’s arrogance inflamed your swelling anger. And they hated him all the more because of his dream and what he had said.

Many of us have been deeply wounded by the sins of others. Some of those painful memories hit us with the “blunt impact of a sledgehammer, with enough force to knock [us] loose from the present.” As a result, we would be willing to trade almost anything for a delete key on the keyboard of time. The only way to remove this “nettle in our memory” is through “a surgical procedure called forgiveness. It is not as though forgiving were the remedy of choice among other options. It is the only remedy.”

Over the next several posts I plan to use the story of Joseph and his brothers to discuss forgiveness. As the story of Joseph reveals, the abuses in relationships are seldom one-sided. Dad committed the sin of favoritism (which he learned at his mother’s knee) and the sin of indifference (he made feeble attempts to resolve these filial conflicts). Joseph sinned by flaunting his role as the favorite. Joseph’s brothers sinned by nursing a hatred of their brother.

All these sins produced a cauldron of animosity and bitterness which boiled over into violence. Joseph, who was the most privileged, became the most abused. Thus, this is primarily a story about how he came to forgive his brothers.

The Prodigal Son: Coming Home

An anxious prodigal journeyed home, practicing his speech: “Father, I have sinned ...” His thoughts raced with the possible conclusions to this painful ordeal. “Will dad take me back? Will he speak to me? Will he allow me to be one of his hired servants?” But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. Norman Cox imagined this scene from the perspective of the Prodigal when he saw his home in the distance: “He became aware that a man had left the house and was running to meet him. ‘Who can it be, and why is he running?’ He did not remember any servant who ran like this one, and he knew it was not his elder brother. The one who ran was like his father. He remembered his father’s running when they played games together when he was a boy. It could not be his father, however, because his father was too old to run like that. Thus he speculated until the father was near enough to recognize beyond all doubt. He was astounded that his father ran so fast. But he was more amazed at the radiance of his father’s countenance.”

The son began his memorized speech but his overjoyed father didn’t let him finish. Robe and ring and sandals were quickly brought for the disheveled son: Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine who was dead is alive again; he was lost and is found. So they began to celebrate. It was time to party!

Jesus meant this story to be a picture of God and us. It is a story of “our self-willed breaking away from (God) into adventures far from God. In it he has shown us the inescapable consequences of sin.” But in the story we also find that God, with an indescribable longing and yearning (he runs toward repentant sinners!), waits for a Prodigal to come to himself because only “then will he become conscious of his need and his guilt, and be moved to abhor and confess his sin.”

God isn’t looking for endless apologies or explanations. He only wants a confession: I have sinned against heaven and against you. Then he can restore you to your rightful place as one of God’s loved and blessed sons.

The Prodigal Son: Part 7

The Parents of a Prodigal

Waiting for Prodigals to come home can be agonizing. David Sheff, whose son was nearly devoured by drugs, admitted: “I am becoming used to an overwhelming, grinding mixture of anger and worry. It is a bleak and hopeless feeling.” In Jesus’ story, the father thought he would never see his son again—this son of mine was dead. And unfortunately, many Prodigals teeter back and forth between death and life—there may be several homecomings!

What produces a Prodigal? Many parents blame themselves. David Sheff explains: “I often feel as if I have totally failed my son. In admitting this, I am not looking for sympathy or absolution, I am stating a truth that will be recognized by most parents who have been through this.” Sheff continually asked himself where he had gone wrong: “Did I spoil him? Was I too lenient? Did I give him too little attention? Too much? If only his mother and I had stayed together. If only and if only and if only ...”

But Jesus’ story doesn’t blame the father—the blame is squarely on the son. The son was the one who came up with and executed the plan to gain his inheritance and run to the Far Country. Even when parents share the blame, it does no good to pummel themselves. They will need all the strength they have—and more!—to fight today’s battles.

The Far Country isn’t just the choice of troubled kids. David’s Sheff’s son was a good student, happy, loved his parents, but thought he could dabble in drugs. He discovered the hard way that drugs were more potent than he was. At one point during his recovery, he suffered a relapse: “I got cocky. It’s this trick of addiction. You think, My life isn’t unmanageable, I’m doing fine. You lose your humility. You think you are strong enough to handle it.”

Parents, do you realize the danger that modern kids face? When I was a child, drugs were only something doctors’ prescribed. Today, “drugs pervade every college campus in America, and every city, so a young adult must learn how to live among them.” We must prepare our children so they understand the pull of the world and their own propensity to sin. Unless they learn how to humbly depend on God's strength, they may become painfully lost in the Far Country.

The Prodigal Son: Part 6

The Other Sinner


Why did Jesus have to ruin a good story? Doesn’t he like happy endings?! Just when we were enjoying a good party, the father’s elder son returned from his field work wanting to know why there was music and dancing. When he found out that the party was for his wayward brother, he became angry and refused to go into [the party].

The older brother’s anger is understandable. While his brother was sowing his wild oats, this brother was sowing real oats for his father. He probably thought: “What are you doing, Dad?! Throwing a party for a son who squandered everything and came home because it was his last choice?! He’ll just do it again. Maybe you’re taken in by him but I’m not!” I have a friend whose parents have bailed out his brother again and again and again. The result? He has never become a responsible adult.

But this isn’t a bailout, it is a homecoming. Dad didn’t replenish the Prodigal’s bank account, he simply threw a party for his returned-from-the-dead son. Isn’t that what a dad should do?! Jesus included a second brother in this story to show that there are different types of sinners. The father had two sons who were lost. The first was lost in the far country of debauchery; the second in the far country of pride. Listen to Mr. Responsibility’s claim to his father: All these years I have been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Could any child never disobey?!

The elder brother’s prideful sin led him to reject his brother even before he talked with him. Speaking to his father he called his brother: This son of yours. He could only see what his brother was, not what his brother could become. Arrogant people give no second chances. The person you were as a teen is the same person you are as an adult.

The apostle Paul observed that the sins of some men are obvious, reaching the place of judgment ahead of them; the sins of others trail behind them. (I Tim.5:24) Newspapers are full of Prodigals’ sins. But few divulge the cold, unforgiving hearts of elder brothers. These Elder Brothers often boast of sins they have not committed but are blind to the sins that are destroying them.

Are you having trouble forgiving someone? Are you willing to confess that your unwillingness is also a sin? Repent before your heart becomes a stone.

The Prodigal Son: Part 5

The Way Home

When the Prodigal confessed—I have sinned—was he sincere? It appears so. Trudging back home after having made such a fool of himself could not have been easy, but he didn’t dilute his confession with excuses. “I have sinned but ...

• you should not have given me the money.”
• I had to get away from my self-righteous brother.”
• I had temporary insanity.”
• that far country is full of crooks.”

He accepted blame completely, now realizing that “having his own way was the worst thing that could have happened to him.”

The second part of the Prodigal’s homecoming speech also points to his sincerity: I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired servants. In these words, the Prodigal evidenced a complete surrender, one “without reservation, qualification or equivocation.” He believed he had forfeited the rights of a son and would humbly accept becoming one of his father’s servants. His change of attitude was remarkable. Though he once viewed his home as a prison, he was now willing to imprison himself as a slave in that same household.

Not all prodigals make it home. Some are overwhelmed by their shame: “The pangs which follow a loss of self-respect are tortuous. Not many have sufficient courage to face them. In every possible way they seek to escape. Although God forgives, they cannot forgive themselves. There are thousands of solitary drunkards who drink themselves into oblivion every night in an effort to buy a few hours’ escape from their agonizing loss of self-respect.”

There is only one road home for a prodigal. Returning humbly, brokenly, without excuse to the Father is their “one lone star of hope.”

The Prodigal Son: Part 4

"I Have Sinned"

Many Prodigals want liberation, not transformation; the removal of pain, not the removal of guilt. The prophet Hosea describes them: They do not cry out to [God] from their hearts, but wail upon their beds. (14:7) These rebels would gladly stay in the far country if life still worked.

When Jesus’ Prodigal (Luke 15) ran out of money in the far country, he found a job: So he hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to feed pigs. He longed to feed himself with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything. What an indignity for a conscientious Jew—he was hired to feed pigs! And then his employer added to his shame by not paying him. It was at this low point, hungry and humiliated, that he came to his senses. How many of my father’s hired hands have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! He knew what he had to do to live: I will set out and go back to my father.

So the run-away son limped home—all he had left was a broken heart and a prepared speech: Father, I have sinned.... These are exceptional words—even in the Bible. From Genesis to Revelation, the words “I have sinned” occur only thirteen times. And only twice do they appear to be genuine (David and this Prodigal). Those two are the only confessions which include a declaration of guilt and a plea for pardon.

I must be honest--I don’t find confession easy. When I have flung unkind words at my wife and know that my confession can restore peace, I agonize over whether to admit my sin. Though my sin is obvious to both of us, I can’t voice it. Why is my voice box suddenly frozen? Is this a foreign language I don’t know? Would it help to hire a Professor Higgins (My Fair Lady) to teach me how to speak these words? “Repeat after me: `I have sinned. I have sinned. I have sinned.’”

Cathy and I occasionally do some marriage counseling. The first meeting with a couple is totally predictable--each will spew out a long list of the other's failings. They are simply reflecting fallen human nature--a bent toward magnifying others’ sins and minimizing our own. Are you overwhelmed by your mate’s sins? Would you like to confront your best friend with her flaws? Are you angered by the lack of love from a parent? Step back. Take a minute to raise the mirror in front of your own soul. Ask God to help you see your own culpability in whatever is broken between you and someone else: Search me, O God, and know my heart; ... See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. God is the only one who can enable me to see and confess my own sin.