Summary: If you cannot or will not forgive, you are a puppet in the hands of the one who harmed you.

Actress Molly Ringwold learned Survivor Tip #4 somewhere along the way, saying "From my experience, forgiving is the only way to survive." Obviously, we would be mistaken if we took our survivor tips directly from Hollywood. Unfortunately, many people do. But Molly Ringwold’s survivor tip didn’t originate with her. It originated with the character of God. It became a command of God. And we would do well to listen, especially in these days.

We live in a culture that is horrifically fractured. Children run away from home vowing never to see their parents again. Dads disappear into the night. Divorce splits more than half of our families. Competition and rapidly changing technology can make the darlings of a company obsolete in the blink of a .com.

It’s left many of us bitter and angry. Brothers and sisters don’t speak to each other. Laid off employees bring revenge through the barrel of a 9 m.m. semi-automatic. Victims of crime seek revenge. Neighbors hurl insults and obscene gestures across their yards. Even in the church can be found those who will not associate with one another. There is plenty of unforgiveness to go around.

Ernest Hemingway told the story of a father and his teenage son who had a relationship that had become strained to the point of breaking. Eventually, the son ran away from home. His father began a journey in search of his rebellious son. Finally, in Madrid, in a last desperate effort to find him, the father put an ad in the newspaper. "Dear Paco, Meet me in front of the newspaper office at noon. All is forgiven. I love you. Your father." The next day, at noon in front of the newspaper office, 800 "Pacos" showed up.

How filled are the streets of Portland with Pacos who are estranged from their mother or father? How filled are the neighborhoods of Gresham with people who are trapped in bitterness and unforgiveness? How filled are the chairs of our own church with people who proclaim the forgiveness of God for their own sins yet reserve the right to hold a grudge against those who have harmed them?

Peter was trying to reserve that right when he approached Jesus (Matt. 18:21): "How many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?" You know how Peter felt. Jesus had just finished talking about the responsibility to show fault to a brother who sins against you. That might seem reasonable enough, but what about that one who apologizes and keeps wronging you. Surely there comes a time when enough is enough!

But Jesus’ response doesn’t set well with us. "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times." Other translations say "seventy times seven." Either way, the command is to forgive and not look for a reason to stop forgiving.

That goes against our natural desire for revenge. We understand the families of Timothy McVeigh’s victims lining up to watch him be executed this week. Forgiveness also goes against our desire to be in control. Roberta Bondi writes, "It seems as though the power to forgive is the only leverage we have in a relationship, and so to forgive means to give up power in that relationship." Both the desire for revenge and the desire for control, however, come out of the flesh. They are the epitomy of the rebellion demonstrated by the devil himself.

To make his point, Jesus tells the disciples a parable (Matthew 28:23-35, NLT)

The point of this parable is about as plain as any we find. If our Father has forgiven such a great debt as our own sin account, then we we should be like him in forgiving others the far less that has been done to us. Isaiah spoke God’s mercy on Israel’s debt years earlier, noting on God’s behalf, "You have not bought any fragrant calamus for me, or lavished on me the fat of your sacrifices. But you have burdened me with your sins and wearied me with your offenses. I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more." (Isaiah 43:24-25) We too have had our debts blotted out for the sake of God’s name. So in God’s name, we ought to forgive.

How does this benefit God’s name? It benefits God by reflecting his character. Even more, it benefits God when we enjoy him as free men and women.

Jesus pointed out that if we refuse to forgive in our hearts, the heavenly Father will do to us what the king did to the unmerciful servant—he’ll have us jailed. Not that God will literally bind us, but the consequences of our unforgiveness will. Think about the "jailers" that will keep us locked up: bitterness, rage, anger, jealousy--these are the very things that God’s word instructs us to rid ourselves of! We rid ourselves of these things through forgiveness.

If we refuse to forgive, we might also be subject to depression. Penelope Sweet said, "Depression is nourished by a lifetime of ungrieved and unforgiven hurts." Unforgiveness might also find us jailed by guilt. Jesus makes it clear that the forgiveness we seek from God is directly related to our forgiveness of others. If we don’t forgive, we will not be forgiven. This only makes good sense. If we say we can’t forgive, it probably stems from a lack of faith that God can forgive. If we say the harm done to us is too great to be forgiven, how can we be confident that our own massive debt to God can be forgiven?

Ultimately, as long as you remain unforgiving of a parent or child, a brother or sister, a former spouse, your boss, your neighbor, and even someone who has harmed you physically or hurt or even killed a loved one, that person becomes your "jailer." Lewis Smedes writes in Forgive & Forget: Healing the Hurts We Don’t Deserve, "If we say that monsters (people who do terrible evil) are beyond forgiving, we give them a power they should never have…they are given the power to keep their evil alive in the hearts of those who suffered most. We give them power to condemn their victims to live forever with the hurting memory of their painful pasts. We give the monsters the last word." If you cannot or will not forgive, you are a puppet in the hands of the one who harmed you.

Gordon McDonald summed up the prison of unforgiveness saying, "Spiritual passions cannot coexist with resentments. We can do our best to claim that we are in the right, but the Scriptures are clear. The unforgiving spirit is no home to the energy that causes Christian growth and effectiveness." To get out of jail, we must forgive. As Paul put it, "Forgive as the Lord forgave you." (Col. 3:13)

To find your way out of your prison, let me tell you what forgiveness is not. First of all, forgiveness is not forgetting. The deeper you’ve been hurt, the more likely it is you will not forget it. You can forgive, even if you can’t forget.

Forgiveness is also not reconciliation. Reconciliation is always be preferred, but it takes two people. The sad reality is that the offender may never apologize for their wrong. To date, Timothy McVeigh has not apologized to the families of the 168 people he murdered when he blew up the Murrah building in Oklahoma City. He may not apologize before he is executed this Wednesday. He will leave any surviving family members who are waiting for him to apologize before they can forgive in their own personal jail. You can forgive without reconciling.

Forgiveness is also not condoning or dismissing. So often we fail to forgive because we think we will justify the actions of the person who harmed us. Forgiveness does not excuse bad behavior. That’s why when my kids apologize to one another, the one who had been hurt is not allowed to say "that’s okay." They can forgive, but they cannot say it’s okay.

Nor is forgiveness pardoning. When you forgive, you release someone from your perceived right to avenge. But there still may be consequences for their behavior that they must face. They also must still give an account to God. When President Clinton asked for forgiveness for the Monica Lewinsky fiasco, many felt he was looking for pardon, not forgiveness. There is a difference.

Smedes offers a 3-part definition for forgiveness. The first part is surrendering the right to get even. When we forgive, we have to throw away our lists.

At a convention with their wives, two businessmen who had been roommates in college crossed paths. They sat in the lobby all night talking. They knew they would be in trouble with their wives. The next day, when they saw one another, one asked, "What did your wife think?" "I walked in the room and my wife got historical!" "You mean hysterical?" asked the friend. "No, I mean historical. She told me everything I ever did wrong." Forgiveness is first giving up the right to get even and hold an account against the one who harmed you.

Second, forgiveness requires reinterpreting the person. Take off the label that characterizes the person as wrongdoer and realize they are the same weak, needy, complicated, and selfish person you are. Have compassion.

Finally, Smedes suggests, we must seek God’s blessing for the person who harmed us. Forgiveness is not made complete until the Great Commandment to love our neighbor has won out.

In 1990, a young mother of 3 pleaded for her life before being shot by her husband’s lover. Sydna Masse, a neighbor of the murdered woman, responded to the killing with hate and rage. "I had a dead friend and now lived behind three motherless kids. I felt I had every right to hate the murderer who caused this." Sydna grew "physically hot" when the murderer’s name—Jennifer—was mentioned or her picture was flashed on TV.

Jennifer’s life sentence did little to amend Sydna’s passion. "There was no relief in her sentencing. That’s the thing with hatred and bitterness—it eats you alive. Every time I passed the house, I missed Diane and became angry all over again."

During a Bible study lesson on forgiveness, God impressed upon Sydna that she needed to forgive Jennifer. "I literally did a whiplash and protested, ‘no way I can forgive her. She killed my friend. She killed a mother of three!"

In spite of her reluctance, Sydna finally gave in and wrote a carefully worded letter to Jennifer, expressing her forgiveness. She was caught by surprise by what happened inside her. As soon as she dropped the letter into the mail, she says "a weight lifted. I felt like I was losing 20 pounds. That’s when I learned that anger, bitterness, and unforgiveness keeps you from experiencing the depths of joy." Sydna Masse forgave Jennifer and did not expect what she got in return.

Jennifer wrote back to Sydna: "I’m sorry for killing your friend." A pen-pal relationship between the women developed into a profound relationship of mutual encouragement. Sydna realized that what started out as an obligation, in response to God’s command to forgive, became a source of God’s grace into her own life. She was let out of jail. Jennifer was no longer pulling her strings, causing her to be angry and bitter. Instead, Jennifer became a friend "just as much as I had considered Diane a friend."

Smedes concluded that "forgiving fellow human beings for wrongs done to them was close to the quintessence of Christian experience. And, more, that the inability to forgive other people was a cause of added misery to the one who was wronged in the first place." It’s your choice, the quintessence of Christian experience, or added misery. I know you’ve been hurt, but you can forgive. Get out of jail. Don’t let ‘em pull your strings.