Forgiveness is the purest expression of love and one of the most difficult forms of suffering. Author Peter Kreeft describes it as “the best fruit, the most beautiful flower, of suffering . . . ‘the plant that blossoms only when watered with tears.’”That is likely why we as humans struggle so intensely in offering forgiveness to those who have wronged us.
I remember the conversation to this day. I was speaking with a church member who had been sexually molested on multiple occasions by her father and a priest. “I’ll never forgive,” she said vehemently. “No one could ever forgive those who committed the hurt that I’ve experienced. They might say they’ve forgiven, but they really haven’t. It’s impossible!” At the age of 64, she still carried the painful agony of those horrendous events and was convinced that forgiveness was impossible. “No one can or even should forgive the kind of wrong that I’ve experienced,” she expressed with profound anger in her voice.
The struggle to forgive is centuries old. On one occasion, Peter asked Jesus, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” (Matthew 18:21-35). My own journey in understanding and offering forgiveness is much like that of Peter’s. Our son’s unexpected death over twenty years ago came as a result of negligence. The authorities classified it as involuntary manslaughter. No one intended to harm him. The negligence that caused his death wasn’t premeditated. Nevertheless, the excruciating pain of losing my son evoked a question in me much like the question Peter asked: “Lord, how forgiving am I to be?”
Peter tried to impress Jesus and the other disciples by his outward appearance of mercy and generosity. After all, the Jewish rabbis taught that a person should offer forgiveness three times to those who offended them. Amazingly, Peter was willing to more than double the limit proposed by the rabbis, extending forgiveness even up to seven times—the number of perfection. But that was the limit!
Jesus’ response took Peter by surprise: “I tell you, not seven times . . . .” Perhaps a smile began to flicker across Peter’s face. He’s certain that Jesus is going to lower the bar, reducing the final count that defines the limits of forgiveness. But no, Jesus continued: “. . . but seventy times seven.” That’s ten times the number of divine fullness with another seven added on! Suddenly, all human notions of forgiveness have been dismissed. Divine love far surpasses our human tendency to keep records, coldly calculating the extent of our forgiveness. The kingdom of heaven is a kingdom of incalculable numbers and unlimited forgiveness.
Author William S. Stoddard has written, “Forgiving the unforgivable is hard. So was the cross: hard words, hard wood, hard nails.” The cross marked a turning point in my own journey toward forgiveness. It’s as if Jesus said to me, “If you want to talk about numbers, let’s first talk about your own. If you want to limit your forgiveness of others, let’s first calculate your own debt before God!” This is the point of the parable Jesus recounted in response to Peter’s question. “I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?” (Matthew 18:32–33).
I have come to realize that no wrong committed against me—intentional or unintentional—could ever compare with the immeasurable debt I have already been forgiven in Jesus Christ. We each face the inevitable question: As a multiple offender graciously forgiven by God, dare I ever withhold forgiveness even once toward another?
Since that initial step of forgiveness—a decision that I have had to reaffirm again and again over the years—I have seen blossom the flower of suffering watered with tears. I’ll never forget embracing Ms. Lee, the elderly Korean lady who managed the small hotel where our son died, as she wept profusely in my arms. Some months later, our entire family visited South Korea, the “Land of the Morning Calm” that Jonathan had come to love. Though our hearts were not calm, it was an indispensable step of healing for us all. We saw where Jonathan had spent the last months of his life and visited with Ms. Lee. Sitting with her on the very steps that led to the room where Jonathan took his last breath, my wife via translation shared with Ms. Lee the good news of forgiveness freely offered in Jesus Christ: “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).
Some months later we received a letter from Ms. Lee in which she expressed her own struggle with forgiving herself and embracing the forgiveness offered her in Christ. She wrote:
Oh, dear Jonathan’s father and mother! My heart has been touched and moved by something. And so I spoke with someone who knows quite well what has happened. He told me, “The Holy Spirit is working on you now.” And he said to me, “This is in answer to the prayers of Jonathan’s parents.” While he prayed with me, I was drenched with tears. Finally, I made up my mind to go to church with him next week. Thank you very much for your prayer for me—a sinful and defective woman. I earnestly hope to meet Jonathan in heaven with assurance of the resurrection by strong faith in Christ. I looked at the picture you sent of Jonathan’s tombstone. According to the inscription, if we believe in Jesus Christ as our Savior and Lord, we shall meet again. I truly want to see him in Heaven.
Sincerely yours,
Jung-ja, Lee
Seoul, South Korea
Corrie Ten Boom (1892-1983), who survived a Nazi concentration camp during the Holocaust, once said, “Forgiveness is to set a prisoner free, and to realize the prisoner was you.” Over the years since our son’s death, we have been set free . . . and so, we believe, has Ms. Lee. The plant watered with tears has blossomed.
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