“Brother Saul: The Challenge to Forgive”

Acts 9:1-17

Third Sunday of Easter + April 18, 2010

Pilgrim Congregational United Church of Christ

400 Glenwood Drive

Chattanooga, Tennessee 37404

I love urban legends. You know what they are, don’t you? They are stories that purport to be true but which, in fact, never happened.

One of my favorites is about a man who wanted to fix the shingles on the roof of his house. He put a ladder against the back of the house and climbed up. He tied a safety rope around his waist, threw the other end of the rope over the top of the roof, and told his son to tie it to something solid. His son saw the family car sitting in the driveway so he tied the end of the rope to the bumper. Then he went in the house to watch television. The man pulled the rope. Solid as a rock. “That’s not going anywhere,” he said to himself and started fixing the roof. A few minutes later his wife came out of the house to go shopping, got into the car, put it in reverse, and saw her husband fly over the roof and land on the hood of the car!

As I said, that’s not a true story but it does illustrate a fact of life: sometimes bad things happen to good people and, worst of all, there really is no one to blame.

Of course, sometimes there is someone to blame, at least a little. When I was a senior in high school, my parents got the first new car they had ever had: a 1956 Pontiac which was a really good car in those days. My parents believed I was a good driver and allowed me to use the car to take my girlfriend Martha on a date. When we came back from the movies in Kalamazoo it was about 10:30 at night. Martha’s folks had a two-car garage and a large driveway. I parked the new Pontiac on the other side of the driveway across from the garage. A few moments later, Martha’s father – who worked from 11 to 7 – quickly put up the garage door and even more quickly backed his car out and smashed into the Pontiac!

That’s a true story and, once again, demonstrates that sometimes bad things happen to good people. This time there were two people to blame – sort of: Hank Walters who hadn’t dreamed there would be a car directly behind his garage and, of course, I who had parked it there. Thank heavens, Hank called my parents to tell them what had happened and that he would cover the cost of repairs. When I got home my parents didn’t blame me but, while the Pontiac was fixed, it was never quite as good as new again. I felt bad about that and I know my parents did, too.

All of us have had something like this happen in our lives: a minor accident or mishap, some greater or lesser pain or problem. Maybe there was someone to blame but it wasn’t that big a deal. We forgave whoever did it, shrugged it off as one of those things, and went on our way, not too much the worse for what happened. “That’s the way life is,” we tell ourselves. “Sometimes bad things happen to good people like us.”

But there are some things that can’t be shrugged off and forgotten that easily. We were cheated out of a lot of money by someone we trusted. Someone we loved betrayed us. A spouse, a partner, left us for someone else. Someone we counted on to do the right thing did the wrong thing and we were left to pay the price. Maybe they didn’t really mean to do it but it hurt just the same. And as much as all these hurts and betrayals are wounding when they happen to us, they hurt even more when the pain is inflicted on someone we love. Think of the anguish parents feel when their child is sexually abused. What are we supposed to do when we are hit by something so terribly painful?

Perhaps nothing like this has ever happened to you. Thank God for that, but I suspect that someday it will, so keep listening! The rest of us here this morning are now remembering what we suffered through at some point in our lives. Maybe we’re still suffering even though it happened years ago. How do we learn how to forgive those who have hurt us so deeply?

As I said in the quote on the top of our bulletin today, “Forgiveness is the hardest work in the world which is one of the reasons so few of us want to do it.” But someone must surely be wondering, “If it is so hard, why would I want to do it at all? Why can’t I keep my rage and resentment alive? Maybe if I do I’ll find a way someday to get revenge.”

When we have been deeply hurt it is very natural to feel deep anger, even rage, at whoever has hurt us. Denying the fire of anger only drives it deeper into our lives where it smolders forever. From time to time it will flare up and burn others who don’t deserve it.

When we have been deeply hurt, it is also very natural to have revenge fantasies. We imagine the awful things we wish could happen to the one who betrayed us and hope that somehow they’ll get what they deserve. Worst of all we may even try to figure out how we could do it ourselves. I say “worst of all,” because if we do find a way to take revenge on the one who hurt us we will have become no better than they are and would we really want to be them? Then we would suffer twice.

So how can we learn to forgive? I believe we begin by realizing that forgiving is a slow process. It takes time, sometimes a lot of time but, then, what good thing doesn’t take time? Forgiveness also asks us to understand a little of what was going on inside the person who hurt us. We should never try to understand everything that made them do what they did but it helps to realize that they are human beings, too, and maybe, just maybe, right now some other person sees us as the cause of their hurt. How does the old prayer go?” Forgive us the hurt we have done to others as we forgive them the hurt they did to us.”

But let’s also be clear on this: Even as we struggle to forgive in starts and stops, in bits and pieces, there will always be a little anger left over. There will always be a scar somewhere on our soul and once in a while it will throb. And be very sure of this: We can’t be forced into forgiving by anyone, including ourselves. We cannot be guilt-tripped or shamed into forgiveness. We forgive not because we have to, but because we want to.

So how do we do it? These are some suggestions I have found helpful. We begin by remembering clearly what was done to us. It is especially helpful to say it out loud. “I was hurt by so-and-so who did such-and-such.” Don’t be afraid to be graphic in your words! Then pause for a few moments and visualize that person who hurt you and say “I forgive you so-and-so for what you did to me and I wish you well in your life, I really do.” We’ll probably have to say all this again and again but over time we will find that a spirit of forgiveness is coming into our lives.

Something like this must have happened to Ananias, the man in our scripture story today. Saul had participated in the stoning to death of Stephen the first Christian martyr. Saul then wanted to travel to Damascus from Jerusalem in order to arrest any Christians he found there and bring them back in chains so they might be imprisoned or executed. Of course, on the road to Damascus Saul had a life-changing experience. As we say, he “saw the light,” and became a Christian. Later he symbolized this by changing his name to Paul. But for now he was blind. He was utterly helpless. If Ananias or any other Christian in Damascus had wanted to they could have hurt or killed Paul in any way they wished.

Instead, in one of the greatest examples of forgiveness in human history, Ananias went to Saul on his sickbed, laid hands of healing and forgiveness on him, and said “Brother Saul.” Brother Saul! No longer feared enemy but beloved Christian Brother. I suppose the only question left to answer is this: Why did Ananias do that? Better still, let’s get personal and ask: Why should we offer that kind of forgiveness and acceptance to those who have hurt us or those we love? There is only one answer. We do it because we are Christian people and we know that God in Christ has forgiven us. At least, I hope we know that. If not, we are still locked in a prison of pain but thank God there is a key that will release you and me and all people. And now I invite you to use that key with me. . .

“Our Father. . .”