FORGIVENESS CAN BE a profoundly beautiful act. And I never talk about it without offering some critical disclaimers because I know all too often forgiveness has been misused to keep victims and survivors silent and oppressed. Forgiveness is not about allowing abuse or mistreatment to continue. It is not about excusing bad behavior or insisting that you remain in relationship with the systems or person harming you. Forgiveness is fundamentally about liberation—liberation of self, and when appropriate, liberation of the repentant party.
These passages engage the theme of forgiveness, and I encourage every preacher to handle these texts with care using a lens of liberation. Preach in such a way that you are never sending a victim back to her abuser. Preach in a way that sets the people free. Make forgiveness the thing of beauty it is capable of being, not another trap for the downtrodden. How? Perhaps by letting the texts be as complex as our actual human lives—full of nuance and heartache, consequence and hope.
Our job is not to resolve the tension but to carry it well. Yes, Joseph forgives his brothers. But he messes with them a bit first. It’s not that black and white, and neither are our lives. Yes, Jesus surrenders himself to death, and it’s brave, noble, and profound. He also rises from the dead and seems to know he would. He wasn’t surrendering to his enemies so much as entrusting himself to a God who could bring resurrection from death. That distinction matters. Forgiveness can be beautiful, but it is rarely simple.
Forgiveness is not about perpetual suffering but about rising.
September 6
Tell It Anyway
Ezekiel 33:7-11; Psalm 119:33-40; Romans 13:8-14; Matthew 18:15-20
BEFORE FORGIVENESS OR repair comes accountability. These texts are all about speaking up when wrong occurs. The words in Ezekiel are harsh ones about how the wicked will surely die if they do not repent (“turn”), but I zoned in on Ezekiel himself. I noticed what Ezekiel is responsible for, which is that God calls him to speak truth to power. God is clear: Whether the wicked take heed is not Ezekiel’s responsibility, but if he lets the truth die in his throat before it reaches the people who need to hear it, then Ezekiel has failed. I am reminded how often this is the role of the prophet—to keep speaking truth when no one is listening.
If it feels at times like you are going hoarse trying to call attention to the atrocities of our day, you are in good company. Historically, prophets are often not effective. Their job is never to shut up, regardless.
In Matthew, Jesus says that when someone harms you, point it out to them. If they do not listen, try again, but with backup. If they still don’t listen, bring in the whole church. Perhaps this is the secret of a sustainable vocation as a prophet—don’t go at it alone. A prophet needs reinforcements. Another disclaimer: Jesus isn’t suggesting we gang up on someone to coerce them into agreeing with our version of a story or our interpretation of the Bible. Don’t get it twisted. He is suggesting we hold those who do harm accountable with love. For “love does no wrong to a neighbor” (Romans 13:10).
September 13
An Ocean of Grace
Genesis 50:15-21; Psalm 103:1-13; Romans 14:1-12; Matthew 18:21-35
IMAGINE PLOTTING TO kill your own brother, then changing your mind and selling him into slavery instead. (Hard to imagine, I hope, but just go with me here as we unpack Genesis 50.) Imagine years later being caught in a famine, forced to travel to Egypt in hopes they will give you food. Imagine showing up to find the second-in-command to Pharoah is your very own brother—the one you sold—and now you are at his mercy in every way. Imagine every shiver up your spine, every boulder in your stomach, every tear in your eye.
Then imagine, after all the horrible retaliation you have anticipated, he says this: “Have no fear; I myself will provide for you and your little ones” (Genesis 50:21). Imagine! I mean, really imagine. Imagine every goosebump on your arm, every weight off your chest, every impossible tear of relief, every giggle of joy, every weeping embrace.
Imagine heading home after all that. Imagine being home. Imagine someone irritates you (because real life never stays happily-ever-after). Imagine refusing to give that annoying little jerk any grace because really, he should know better. Imagine not clocking the dissonance between what you have received and what you dish out (see Matthew 18:30).
When Jesus suggests we forgive 77 times, he’s not suggesting we scrape drops from a dry well. He’s saying, “God’s given you the whole ocean. Seventy-seven drops will hardly be missed.” He’s saying in the clearest of terms, “God forgives all your iniquity” (Psalm 103:3). Who are you to withhold grace? He is saying, “God is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” (Psalm 103:8). Who are you to cast judgment (see Romans 14:10)? He’s saying you really can afford to be generous. When it comes to mercy, you are loaded.
When it comes to mercy, you are loaded.
September 20
Grace Is Never Fair
Jonah 3:10 - 4:11; Psalm 145:1-8; Philippians 1:21-30; Matthew 20:1-16
JONAH. JONAH. JONAH. This guy does not want to be a prophet. Abso-freaking-lutely not! (Not that I blame him.) God had to chase him down with a storm and a giant fish before he gave in and did the job. To make matters worse, he is one of the few prophets to whom the people actually listen. They repent of their wrong, so God relents and does not destroy them. Which royally irritates Jonah. He’s like, “This is exactly why I didn’t want the gig! I knew you were merciful. So now that you’ve pardoned my enemies, I’d rather just die, thanks.”
Before you judge Jonah too harshly, I imagine you can picture at least one person you never want to see let off the hook. In your heart of hearts, there is someone, surely, you want to see pay. God reminds Jonah there are 120,000 persons in this city—and also animals! Surely God can be concerned about these lives created by God’s own hand. Right? Or wrong?
I’ll be honest. It is super, super hard for me to comprehend how certain people (the worst of the worst) are somehow God’s children whom God loves. But it’s true. I’ll be grappling with that for the rest of my life and never totally get it, I’m sure. God’s economy is so, so, so not “fair” in the traditional sense. (See the parable of the vineyard workers in Matthew 20.) There’s this divine unfathomable generosity that does not jive with capitalism or straightforward expressions of justice at all. Sometimes, that’s inspiring. Sometimes, I hate it. Frustration with God’s utterly extravagant magnanimity is totally understandable. But rejecting it all together is not a viable option. It doesn’t have to make sense to us. But it shouldn’t be ignored.
September 27
Ashes to Beauty
Ezekiel 18:1-4, 25-32; Psalm 25:1-9; Philippians 2:1-13; Matthew 21:23-32
WHEN I WAS in an abusive marriage, I did a lot of forgiving and believing the promises that “things would change.” I was practically addicted to apologies for the hope they gave me that next time would be different. But, the apologies had no substance or truth to them, though it took me years to admit the words were empty. Both the Ezekiel passage on “turning away” and the Matthew passage about acting on “righteousness” emphasize the importance of action. It doesn’t matter what you say; it matters what you do. As poet Maya Angelou said, “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.” These passages are about the limits of forgiveness. You cannot make a person change. Forgiving 77 times doesn’t mean offering yourself up as a punching bag 77 times. When a person violates your safety, you get to walk away. Grace is given freely—anyone trying to coerce it out of you cannot be trusted.
The kenosis of Christ, the “self-emptying,” described in Philippians 2 is about the radical choice God made to give up power, to join us in our humanness and even experience death. Younger me mistakenly thought that to be Christ-like meant to sacrifice myself for everyone else to my own detriment. It’s like I didn’t read the rest of the story where Christ rises from the dead and is exalted. I thought I was just supposed to suffer repeatedly to no end. I now know that forgiveness is not about perpetual suffering but about rising. It’s not about surrendering to oppression; it’s about transmuting pain into wisdom, ashes into beauty.
Rev. Kyndall Rae Rothaus is a preacher, spiritual director, co-founder of Nevertheless She Preached, and author of Thy Queendom Come: Breaking Free from the Patriarchy to Save Your Soul.
Did this article have an impact on you? Tell us how! Whether you’re moved to take action, have a question, or want to share a comment (good or bad), we value your feedback!
