Father, Forgive Them

Luke 23:34

Everything about this statement should give us pause--its context, its declaration, and its grace. Here is why God is God and we are not. Here is why Jesus is Lord. And here is the only reason any of us should be here in this sanctuary. 

That is a lot in one sentence of scripture. Let’s take it apart.

Take seriously where this statement is spoken--from the cross. This moment is the nadir in human existence, for there has never been a moment when we have been so far in opposition to God. God sent Christ to preach, teach, and care for us in an embodiment of the love that is God. But we rejected it lock, stock, and barrel. We denied Christ. We betrayed Christ. We excused ourselves, saying we were not Judas nor Peter. We fell back on the out that it was the Romans who killed Jesus. We blamed the Jews for rejecting their own Messiah--a persistent heresy that led to centuries of violence, bloodshed, and hatred--all self-justified. We were there as the mob strung him up in total abandonment. We were there when the cheers went up in derision. We were there when the crowd crowed in victory over an innocent man broken to appease their bloodlust. All humanity stood before God, rejecting God, and killing his Son. That is an alienation so deep and so profound that it boggles the imagination--that is a rejection of life itself, for in this rejection, we rejected the source of life, the source of all that is, and the source of any hope we would ever have. 

But Christ forgives.

Remember that when our own failures loom before us. Remember that when you see your words hit another person and their tears well. Remember that when you see your actions bring forth consequences that will take a while to unravel. 

Christ forgives us.

There is no condemnation in Christ. There is mercy, even for the greatest miscreant--if Christ could forgive the very people stringing him up, there is hope for anyone.

That is the full import of Christ’s declaration.

What Christ’s statement declares is that God never gives up on us, no matter where we lead ourselves in our pursuit of freedom. 

Think about that for a moment. 

Most of what we human beings do is done to give us a sense of being free--free from anyone telling us what to do; free from fear, doubt, and fretting that leaves us immobile; and free to be whatever we want to be, doing whatever we want to do, however we want to do it. Deep in our hearts we are all libertarians. We want to be powers unto ourselves-- 

So the teenager recoils when mom and dad impose limitations like curfews, an allowance, or check in on junior’s Facebook page from time to time.

  So the adult bristles when the boss sets the course for the day--no questions, no exceptions; 

So the spouse feels the temptation to wander after a week of marital conflict--someone else will understand--this give and take is exhausting; 

So there is resistance when someone tells us of need, hunger, and despair in our own community--that means we will have to do something, losing time, money, and patience. 

So the older person rebels against the need to give up housekeeping despite a series of falls, catastrophes, and a growing inability to keep up. 

We order our lives to put us in control. We manage our days to put us in authority. 

But it is an illusion. 

Reality is relentless. It is inescapable. We are soon who we are--in need of help, hungering for hope, and unable to do it for ourselves.

God is there. God has always been there. God waits for us. God has all the things we lack. Christ’s declaration is no less than this promise writ large. If God was there at the cross, surely God is here with us right now.

And in that is grace that is truly amazing. 

Grace is first and foremost God’s refusal to condemn the guilty. Even as the awful afternoon on Golgotha unfolded, God never unleashed devastating fury on the crowd. God did not condemn them. God forgave. God waited for them to come to their senses, to leave their madness behind, and so God still waits, for we still cling to our illusions of power and control. Had God condemned them, there would be no hope for reclamation, no hope for reconciliation, and no tomorrow. There would only have been darkness. 

But God is light whom no darkness dwells.

That light is the life of the world, as John preached, and that light is love. 

Love really does make the world go around. In love, we discover that God is with us. As we discover that God is with us, we find the ability to be with one another. As we are able to be with one another, we find that we need not be independent, self-sustaining, or self-fulfilling; but we can find our completeness in one another. God made us interdependent. We were made to fit together like puzzle pieces, and as more pieces fall into place, the perfect shalom of God becomes ever more present. It begins, though, with our recognition that God loves us and that we are dependent on God’s love for life itself. This recognition is not an admission of our basic worthlessness or abject imperfection, but rather an understanding of the greater glory of God and us. We are beloved by God. We are treasured by God. That gives us value beyond measure. As we grasp that in and of our own individual lives, it suddenly becomes apparent that what is true for each one of us is also true for every other human being with whom we share this orb called Earth. As we see that truth, there is hope that nothing can dim, for in that knowledge we lose all reason to reject, hate, or minimize one another. We are in this together. God is with us.

That really is grace beyond measure. God does not want our condemnation, but our reclamation. If God reclaimed the crowd on Golgotha, God claims us, too. 

So, one sentence, one sentence of astounding good news. Hear it. Accept it. 

Believe.

Amen.