Forgive Those Who Trespass Against (Not) Us

If you’ve been a churchgoing evangelical Christian for any length of time, you’ve probably heard a sermon on Matthew 18:21-35. This is one of the passages I’ve come to think of as part of the “Evangelical ABCs” that pastors return to again and again. You can’t sit in a pew for too long without hearing about the Parable of the Unmerciful Servant, the man who begged to have his debt forgiven only to turn around and show no mercy to the man who was indebted to him for less. This is the story Jesus uses to illustrate his assertion that we need to forgive those who injure or offend us not seven times, but “seventy times seven” times.

Of course, the number is actually irrelevant here–the point is that we are to cultivate within ourselves an endless capacity for forgiveness, not just for the sake of those who need our forgiveness but for the sake of our own heart condition so that we do not become bitter and hard.

Like many of you, I’m not unfamiliar with this Bible story or Jesus’ mandate. In fact, when I heard this message again for the Nth time recently, I gradually settled into a stupor. For the first thirty minutes of the sermon, it appeared to me that it was going to be nothing new under the sun. But then the pastor said something that snapped me into wakefulness.

He asked how well we’re doing at forgiving people who have injured someone else.

Just take that in a minute.

Culturally, the pastor said, it is acceptable and even honorable to get angry on behalf of others. Our children. Our spouses. Our friends. The marginalized. This is a space in which anger and unforgiveness looks like righteousness. We must “forgive those who trespass against us,” yes, but are we allowed to not forgive those who trespass against those we care about?

Do I (should I) get angry at the man who parked in a grocery pickup spot and went inside to do his shopping, preventing others with grocery orders from parking where they need to?

Do I (should I) hold a grudge against my son’s teacher for shaming him in front of the class?

Do I (should I) feel free to rant and rave on Twitter about the president’s alleged attitude toward minorities?

Do I (should I) get angry with one friend as a way of showing support for a second friend who was offended by something she did?

Do I (should I) feel permission to hate my friend’s husband, who is guilty of infidelity?

“Righteous” secondary anger is continually modeled for us on the internet, in the news media (especially in an election year–hello political campaigning and commentating!), and by the entertainment industry.

We all get angry. The question is, what do we do about it? Where do we allow ourselves to remain angry, to harbor unforgiveness in our hearts? Do we excuse anger on behalf of others as a kind of special anger that is allowable, acceptable, and even laudable?

See, Jesus didn’t set parameters around what we are to forgive others for. He just said we are to forgive.

This is somewhere in the department of “Well, I didn’t steal that bread for myself.” It’s easy to convince ourselves it’s OK if we’re sinning on behalf of someone else, someone we perceive as being in need of our defense.

So what can we do when we have secondary anger that is masquerading as righteous indignation?

• Pray that the Lord would show us where we are being unrighteous and harboring anger we need to let go of.
• Pray for a softened heart that would allow us to feel compassion for the brokenness in the offenders.
• Pray to be given a voice of peacemaking rather than a voice of dissension.
• Pray for clarity in situations where adopting an angry stance feels like the way to support someone. How can we provide support without becoming angry?

If we respond to situations of injustice, whether large or small, with anger, what are we modeling for those who are watching? What are we teaching our children? Where are we leading those who look to us to set an example of Christlikeness?

What would the world look like if we all laid aside anger as a defensive posture, instead choosing to listen more and to speak more softly, to use truth and love as weapons of grace?

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God,” (Matt. 5: 9 NIV).

Harmony Harkema has loved the written word for as long as she can remember. A former English teacher turned editor, she has spent the past nine years in the publishing industry. A writer herself in the fringe hours of her working-and-homeschooling mom life, Harmony also has a heart for leading and coaching aspiring writers. Harmony lives in Memphis with her husband and two small daughters. She blogs at harmonyharkema.com.

Photograph © Tessa Cooper, used with permission