"Reset"

"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you."
--Lewis B. Smedes

"Nothing is so soothing to our self esteem as to find our bad traits in our forebears.  It seems to absolve us."
--Van Wyck Brooks

Two years ago, my brother and I undertook a valiant quest: reacquire video games for the original Nintendo Entertainment System (NES) we came to possess once more.  We have made numerous acquisitions thus far and truly cherish the cartridges easily accessible on eBay.  Video games have improved my hand-eye coordination and ability to reason, my love for story and desire to watch the hero triumph; conversely, they have introduced me to violence and sporadic motion sickness, frustration and disappointment.  But I recently discovered another insight, a virtue of immense importance, located on the front of the NES.  This lesson can be practiced through a simple motion—pressing the button adjacent to “power.”

I have come to realize that through video games I can forgive myself.  In fact, I tend to start games over when I fail to advance past the first level.  I am in control and wield robust power, numerous chances to succeed the next time.  Unfortunately, forgiveness is never this simple; life and relationships are complex and vexing.  Apologies tend to be hollow and devoid of sincerity from time to time.  And forgiving one’s self is never effortless.  “Time heals all wounds” is a trite and apathetic statement.  Everyone walks with emotional scars; in spite of this, forgiveness facilitates freedom.

Forgiveness is continually emphasized in the Scriptures.  The ancient Hebrew word for forgive is nasa and means “to take” or “carry off.”  Forgiveness for another is nasa, the reception of healing and the release of a weighty burden.  Peter, a student of Jesus, asked his teacher how many times forgiveness should be extended.  Confident with seven, Jesus corrected him and stated seventy-seven.  To contextualize this passage, consider this: the Jewish Talmud teaches that forgiveness is only required three times for a repeat offender.  After the fourth transgression, no forgiveness is required.  Jesus reveals the frivolous nature of numbers and questions the heart, the ability to show mercy time and time again.

The antithesis of this teaching is found in the Torah.  Lamech, a descendant of Cain, is motivated by revenge, not forgiveness.  He states, “If Cain is avenged seven times, for Lamech it’s seventy-seven!”  Revenge resonates with society; it saturates television and film.  What’s more, “justice” has become a synonym for “revenge.”  For instance, I tend to identify with Batman, not Superman.  The Dark Knight is the quintessential vigilante, motivated by the death of his parents, motivated to remove criminals from the streets, motivated with or without the law’s aid.  This quest can become deeper and darker though.  And failing to let go, failing to forgive, precedes bitterness, cancer of the soul.  Bitterness is internal rebellion, the failure to make peace with an offender and one’s self; what follows is prolonged pessimism and distrust for everyone.

Jesus overturns this state of mind and invites his students to extend unceasing mercy.  I discovered this through an object lesson last year.  I walked into a large hall and noticed numerous balloons in the air, each with a lengthy string and contained by the ceiling above them.  And I discovered this revelation through my friend’s teaching: failing to forgive is letting the balloon leave the hand in this room; I have the ability to bring the balloon back to my hand, the representation of my pain, the representation of the one who has wronged me.  Bitterness consumes the spirit.  Authentic forgiveness becomes reality as one steps outside the building and releases the string.  No ceiling exists to corral the balloon—it is free and will not return.  The scars and hurt may remain, but like the emancipated balloon, liberty inundates the spirit.

I was jogging recently and listened closely to a song entitled “I Feel So” by Box Car Racer.  I think the chorus captures the spectrum of our emotions: “I feel so mad, I feel so angry, I feel so callous, so lost, confused again…” The thought of forgiving what seems unforgivable unsettles my spirit.  But knowing I have been forgiven much, mercy should be the natural extension.  Jesus references a man in his teaching, a man who owes the ruling king $20 million dollars.  The king plans to sell the man and his family to repay the debt.  Consumed with grief, the man falls on his knees and pleads for additional time to gather the money.  The king’s eyes narrow and he decides to clear the debt completely.  The man wipes his tears and rejoices.  As he steps out of the king’s chamber, he notices a man who owes him $2,000.  Enraged, he grabs the man by the throat and slams him into the wall, demanding his loan be paid in full.  Pleading to no avail, this second man is tossed into prison.  Others notice the first man’s actions and inform the king.  Furious, the king hands the disgraced man unto the jailers to be tortured until his renewed debt is paid in full.

Those who forgive will be forgiven…the cycle is continuous and it brings light to the eyes.  Remember multiple swings in tee ball or softball, another roll in Monopoly?  Hope lives in second chances.  And while life seems unforgiving from time to time, there is a God who grants another swing, another toss of the dice.  Why?  Perhaps he believes that men and women will learn from prior mistakes, internalize wisdom as another time rolls around.  Perhaps he loves without condition, without hesitation.  Alexander Pope writes, “Teach me to feel another’s woe, to hide the fault I see, that mercy I to others show, that mercy show to me.”  Box Car Racer captures the essence of forgiveness best with the last line of the aforementioned song: “Let’s start over.”