Happy Easter. Forgive your enemies.

Issue #157

Forgiveness is at the heart of the cross; at the heart of the gospel; at the heart of history; and really at the heart of the cosmos. Yet, for how foundational it is to Christianity, it seems most Christians — including not a few so-called teachers — have a poor understanding of it.

What does it mean that we are forgiven — and what does it mean that we are therefore to forgive others?

We pray in the Lord’s prayer, “forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” But…have we forgiven our debtors? Should we even forgive some of them? What if they are not repentant debtors? What if they have wronged us without remorse? What about really extreme situations, like the one in the news recently, that raised this question for us in the first place:– what if someone murders your child, and doesn’t seem to think he did anything wrong?

Are we really to forgive our enemies while they are still our enemies?

If God is a forgiving God — a God who has forgiven us in Christ, and bids us to forgive in turn; to be perfect, as our heavenly Father is perfect — then we must grow into a mature understanding of what forgiveness is, and how we must do it.

Forgiveness is imputation

If we are to forgive like God forgives, then what is God doing when he forgives, so that we may imitate him? This, I believe, is where there are two chief points of confusion.

The first arises from thinking of forgiveness in overly emotional terms, when we should be thinking in moral and ultimately covenantal terms. That we become confused on this point is a testament to the visceral power of an outraged sense of justice — but it is perpexing to see teachers of God’s word fail to disentangle their minds from their feelings. This is an issue fundamental to how we are made right with God — with the gospel itself.

Forgiveness is imputation. God imputes righteousness to us, rather than our sin. He counts us as righteous, choosing to regard Christ’s righteousness as if it were our own.

Note that I don’t mean he pretends that it is our own. It is not a pretense, but a promise. It is not a “legal fiction,” as some have sometimes said, but a covenantal reality. When we say that God imputes righteousness to us, we are really saying that he binds us to Christ. (That is what a covenant is: a blood-bond.) He unites us to Christ by covenant, and so we receive what is Christ’s. Everything Christ has really is ours, because he has promised it; just as a woman comes to share in everything her husband has when they marry. It is not a legal fiction that those things are hers. It is a covenantal reality.

Forgiveness is simply the other side of this imputational coin. Think of how Paul describes “the happiness of the man to whom God reckoneth righteousness apart from works” (Ro 4:6). He quotes Psalm 32:2 to describe this reality — but Psalm 32:2 does not speak of God reckoning us righteous, but rather of God not reckoning our sin to us.

Happy they whose lawless acts were forgiven, and whose sins were covered; happy the man unto whom the Lord will not reckon sin. (Ro 4:7–8)

In the original Hebrew, David says: “O the happiness of the man to whom Yahweh accounteth not iniquity.”

So to say that God forgives us is to say that God does not impute our sin to us: he does not reckon it as ours, or count it against us. Rather, he imputes (or, as we’ll see shortly, offers to impute) Christ’s righteousness to us, reckoning that as ours, and counting it to our credit.

This dovetails with the meaning of the word “forgive” in the New Testament. What it means to forgive is much more obvious in the Greek, because the word literally means to “let go of,” or “leave off” — to “unbind,” or “loose.” It is used, for instance, of leaving the little children alone; of leaving and letting go of one’s house and possessions to follow Christ; of the fever leaving (letting go of) Simon’s mother-in-law; and of Christ himself “yielding up” his spirit — letting go of life.

Forgiveness, then, means to “let it go:” to give up what is owed or loose someone from their debt — as in the parable of the wicked servant:

And the lord of that servant, being moved with compassion, released him, and forgave him the debt. (Mt 18:27)

He let go what was owed,; giving up his right to get it back.

This is what God is doing when he forgives us: he lets go of our debt; he gives up his right to get back what we owe. (And it is a right — justice demands it.)

The spanner in the works: when does God forgive us?

These are simple theological categories, and everything I’ve said so far would indicate that God forgives us only in Christ. Forgiveness and justification are essentially linked and inextricable.

Right?

Surely this is simple — we know that God only forgives us when we repent.

Repent ye, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ unto the forgiveness of your sins. (Ac 2:38)

And John tells us,

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 Jn 1:9)

That is the condition of God’s forgiveness: that we turn back from our sin in sorrow, and confess, seeking the forgiveness that he offers. He doesn’t forgive everyone. Only those who ask.

Except…Paul tells us:

how that God was in Christ—reconciling the world to himself, not reckoning to them their trespasses; and having put in us the word of the reconciliation, in behalf of Christ, then, we are ambassadors, as if God were calling through us: we implore, in behalf of Christ, “Be ye reconciled to God.” (2 Co 5:19–20)

This passage introduces us to two extremely important facts.

Firstly, there is a distinction between forgiveness and reconciliation. Paul says that God, in Christ, was reconciling the world to himself — not that he has reconciled it, as if it were fully done, but that he is reconciling it: in the process of doing it.

Secondly, in order to do reconcile the world to himself, God is “not reckoning to them their trespasses.” In other words, he is not imputing their sin to them. He is letting the debt go; giving up his right to exact punishment. He is forgiving them.

These are distinct actions. The forgiveness is God’s not holding the world’s sins against them. The reconciliation is the restoring of the relationship between God and man.

The reconciliation requires a response. It is impossible without man agreeing to it; better put, without man repenting. Hence “we implore, in behalf of Christ, ‘Be ye reconciled to God.’” When we preach the gospel, Christ is speaking through us, beseeching those hearing — his enemies — to be reconciled: to come to him and to be restored to fellowship, so that they may no longer be enemies, but friends and brothers and sons and daughters. This is where the forgiveness of God is “sealed,” so to speak; it becomes an eternal, covenantal forgiveness in the eternal covenant of Christ.

But the initial forgiveness of God does not require a response; indeed, it could not. Contrary to popular belief, not only is it possible to forgive someone without them repenting, but it is necessary. It is the example laid out for us by God himself:

And you—being dead in the trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh—he made alive together with him, having forgiven you all the trespasses, having blotted out the certificate of debt in the ordinances that was contrary to us, and he hath taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross. (Col 2:13–14)

He forgave us by nailing our record of debt to the cross. He did not count it against us; he counted it against Christ. This obviously was before we repented. And in fact, for thousands of years before that, God had been forgiving sin — not counting it against the world…or the world would have been destroyed already! Again, Paul speaks in Romans of

the passing over of the bygone sins in the forbearance of God (Ro 3:25)

To pass over the bygone sins is to forgive them; to not exact the punishment they deserved.

Jesus himself describes how God “is kind unto the ungracious and evil” (Lk 6:35); and he further commands us to imitate God in this: “be ye therefore merciful, as also your Father is merciful” (Lk 6:36). And he leads the way in doing so himself, modeling God’s kindness even on the cross. As he is being crucified by his unrepentant enemies, who hate him and are in the actual process of killing him in the most humiliating way you can imagine — he says: “Father, forgive them” (Lk 23:34).

That’s the whole reason he is on the cross in the first place: to vouch for and guarantee the mercy and forgiveness of God; his great kindness and love in overlooking sins.

Now, it’s true that he adds, “for they know not what they do” — but lest we think that we only need to forgive those who sin in ignorance, or at least (in our weak judgment) do not realize the full magnitude of their wickedness, he also gives us the example of the first martyr, Stephen, who follows in his way of forgiveness. Stephen declares the gospel to the Jews in great detail, so they are without excuse, concluding:

“Ye stiff-necked and uncircumcised in heart and ears—ye do always resist the Holy Spirit; as your fathers, also ye! Which of the prophets did not your fathers persecute? And they killed those who announced before about the coming of the Righteous One, of whom now ye betrayers and murderers have become, ye who received the law by appointment of angels, and have not kept it.” And hearing these things, they were cut to their hearts, and gnashed their teeth at him. (Acts 7:51–54)

They do not respond with confusion or blank stares. They don’t fail to grasp his point. They are cut to the heart — they know full well what they have done. But unlike the Jews in Acts 2, who are cut to the heart and it leads them repentance for the sin they committed against Christ in ignorance, what do these men do?

And casting him forth outside of the city, they were stoning him—and the witnesses put down their garments at the feet of a young man called Saul—and they were stoning Stephen, as he was calling upon and saying, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit;” and having fallen to his knees, he cried with a loud voice, “Lord, lay not to them this sin.” And having said this, he fell asleep. (Acts 7:58–60)

Stephen knew that these men knew they were killing an innocent man to avoid confronting and repenting of their sin. Yet he asks God not to hold it to their account. His last words are words of forgiveness.

Forgiveness must precede reconciliation

Not only is repentance not a requirement of forgiveness, but forgiveness is actually a necessary precondition to repentance.

In other words, repentance is impossible where forgiveness has not first taken place.

This is hard to hear for the emotionally invested — especially when so many who should know better are telling us that forgiveness is only possible on condition of repentance.

No — repentance is only possible on condition of forgiveness.

We know that the only reason we ever can repent is because God first forgave us. It was this act of love on God’s part, in his letting go of our offenses against him, that enabled us to love him in turn: “We love because he first loved us” (1 Jn 4:19). Or as Paul says,

God commendeth his own love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. (Ro 5:8)

The central and foundational attribute of God in his dealing with the world, from the first sin in the garden up to this very moment, is his merciful unwillingness to exact the vengeance due to sin: his steadfast determination to overlook offense and not to hold it against us.

Think even of the old covenant era. The whole purpose of the Levitical law, with its sacrifices, was to show God’s mercy and forgiveness in covering over sins. But whose?

Whose sins did the sacrifices of bulls and goats symbolically cover?

Everyone in Israel?

No — it was everyone in the whole world. Have you thought about this? We know there were God-fearing gentiles, non-Jews who worshiped Yahweh, throughout the history of redemption. While Israel was the place where God’s presence dwelled, he did not leave the other nations entirely in darkness; he preserved some remnant there as well. Naaman the Syrian was a God-fearing gentile, who served in the court of the king of Syria, who himself was a pagan idolater. God preserved that one man amidst that wicked nation. The widow of Zarephath was a Canaanite, a gentile, who worshiped Yahweh — and was apparently his most faithful disciple during the time of Ahab, because Elijah was not sent to any Israelite’s house for shelter. Nebuchadnezzar, the king of Babylon, was a God-fearer: after he failed to incinerate Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego, he wrote,

Nebuchadnezzar the king, unto all the peoples, nations, and languages, that dwell in all the earth: Peace be multiplied unto you. 2 It hath seemed good unto me to show the signs and wonders that the Most High God hath wrought toward me. 3 How great are his signs! and how mighty are his wonders! his kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and his dominion is from generation to generation. (Da 4:1–3)

And further:

Therefore I make a decree, that every people, nation, and language, which speak anything amiss against the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, shall be cut in pieces, and their houses shall be made a dunghill; because there is no other god that is able to deliver after this sort. (Da 3:29)

We also see of course many God-fearing gentiles during the time of Jesus, before the cross, including Roman centurions, and the Ethiopian eunuch — who lived in the furthest reaches of the known world.

These people were all saved by their faith: by entrusting themselves to Yahweh, in whatever way they were able, given what they knew of him. But none of them offered sacrifices to him. It was only possible to offer sacrifices on the altar in Israel…and they did not live in Israel. Yet their sins were covered.

This is no wonder to us — we know that the sacrifices themselves only depicted the covering of sin. They did not actually cover sin, because it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins (Heb 10:4). But gentiles weren’t required — or able — to even depict the covering of sin. That was what Israel was for. They were the holy nation and royal priesthood. They offered sacrifices not just for their own sins, but for the sins of the whole world. God was at work in the Levitical system to depict not just his gracious forgiveness of the sins of Israel, but of all the gentiles also: Numbers 29 outlines how to celebrate the feast of booths, and it was to be a seven-day-long feast. On the first day, they offered 13 bullocks. On the second day, 12 bullocks. On the third day, 11. Then 10, 9, 8, and finally 7.

Add all those up and you have 70 bullocks.

Why 70?

Because that is how many nations there are (Gen 10). One bullock for every nation. What is being depicted is God’s covering over of the sins of the nations through the priestly intercession of Israel, his son.

Yet now we must confront the contradiction that seems to have been developing in everything I’ve said.

How can God forgive us before Christ if in fact we are forgiven in Christ?

We know that the sacrifices were assigned not for the hardhearted and unrepentant, but for the penitent and remorseful. High-handed sin against God — sin without sorrow — had no sacrifice. The solution to that was not to bring an offering, but to be executed. Without repentance there was no forgiveness; only vengeance.

And surely the same is true in the new covenant era: without repentance, there is no forgiveness — only hell.

So is God’s forgiveness conditional or not? Is it before we repent, or after?

The teleology of forgiveness

Well, this paradox should not really catch us by surprise. After all, I have already noted that we pray, “forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” We are appealing in this to our fulfillment of a condition that God places on forgiveness: that we ourselves forgive:

And whensoever ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have aught against anyone; that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses. (Mk 11:25)

Here the paradox is on full display. On the one hand, we have seen that God has already forgiven the unrepentant, and that he here commands us to forgive the unrepentant also. He does not say, “Whensoever ye stand praying, go and seek repentance from someone if ye have aught against them, so that you can forgive them.” He says simply, “forgive, if ye have aught against anyone.” Anyone at all. Not just the repentant anyones. Also your enemies. You have to forgive unconditionally. When you pray, let it go, so that God will let go of your sin in turn.

On the other hand, this means that God won’t forgive us unconditionally — and the very condition of his forgiving us, is that we forgive without conditions!

Well how is that fair? And how can we put it all together so it even makes sense? God forgives everyone unconditionally, unless they don’t forgive everyone unconditionally?

This seems confusing only because we are currently drifting on a sea of passages without an anchor point to draw them together. But the paradox is easily resolved when we remember that God’s actions are not merely events swirling about in history — they are always directed toward an end; a goal; an objective.

That end is what integrates everything he does, and everything he requires of us, into a coherent whole that makes clear sense.

So what is the end toward which he is working? Of course it is the restoration of all things under Christ. He is saving the world — meaning that he is healing the mortal wound opened by sin that separates the kingdom of man from himself; reuniting what was cut off and divided from him because of rebellion and wickedness; making all things new again and sharing himself with us, so that we may be transformed into the image of Christ and become partakers of the divine nature; so that eventually and ultimately heaven and earth would be one, and we would dwell forever in him, in eternal peace and glory and happiness and wholeness.

That is the end toward which his overlooking of sins is oriented.

When he chooses not to impute the world’s trespasses to them, but rather to open the way of reconciliation in the cross, he is doing so with that end in mind: the end of uniting all things in Christ through that cross.

He could not do this without letting go of the offense of sin, for if he did not overlook sin — if he did not forgive sin — he would necessarily destroy the very world he seeks to save. It is either mercy or justice. You cannot have both simultaneously.

But you can have them consecutively.

In other words, he isn’t just “letting it go” because that is the right thing to in and of itself. He isn’t just releasing the offense because he’s so big-hearted. He is releasing the offense as the way to — and proof of — reconciliation.

I said before that God imputing Christ’s righteousness to us, and not imputing our sin to us, are two sides of the same coin. This is true…but they are not the same thing. God can choose not to impute sin to us — without necessarily imputing Christ’s righteousness.

But he will not do this forever.

Only those justified by Christ are forgiven forever. Only those bound to Christ by covenant are forgiven forever. Only those reconciled to God through the blood of Christ are forgiven forever. Forgiveness and mercy is only eternal in Christ.

Outside of Christ, it is temporary, for the purpose of bringing people into Christ. God forgives sins for now, so that he may forgive sins forever in Christ. This is Paul’s whole point in Romans 2. After listing all the abominable sins and unrighteous deeds that all men commit against God, he says:

Therefore, thou art inexcusable, O man—every one who is judging—for wherein thou judgest the other, thou condemnest thyself: for the same things thou dost practice who art judging, and we know that the judgment of God is according to truth, upon those practicing such things. And dost thou think this, O man, who art judging those who practice such things, and art doing them, that thou shalt escape the judgment of God? Or dost thou despise the riches of his goodness, and forbearance, and long-suffering—not knowing that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance? But, according to thy hardness and impenitent heart, thou dost treasure up to thyself wrath, in the day of wrath and of the revelation of the righteous judgment of God, who shall render to each according to his works; to those, indeed, who in continuance of good work, do seek glory, and honor, and incorruptibility—life eternal; and to those contentious, and disobedient indeed to the truth, and obeying unrighteousness—indignation and wrath, tribulation and distress, upon every soul of man that is working evil, both of Jew first, and of Greek; and glory, and honour, and peace, to every one who is working good, both to Jew first, and to Greek. (Ro 2:1–10)

“The goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance.”

This is why he sends his rain on the righteous and the unrighteous; why he is kind to the ungracious and evil: to lead them to repentance. He forgives them and lets go of their sin for a while, in order to lead them to Christ — so that he may forgive them and let go of their sin eternally.

But if they will not — if they despise the riches of his goodness and forbearance and long-suffering — then they treasure up for themselves wrath on that final day: the day of judgment, when the sky will be rolled back as a scroll, and a trumpet will sound that is heard by every ear, and the dead will rise, and the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven in his Father’s glory to render to each according to his works.

There is always vengeance

I said before that when God forgives us, he gives up his right to get back what we owe — but it is a right.

Justice demands it.

How can God overlook sin forever? He cannot. It would be unjust. Sin always requires punishment. That is why it has to be forgiven; that is why God has to command us to let it go: because we know that it demands judgment! We feel the weight of the need to exact vengeance for every unrighteous act done against us — and very often against others also.

Do you think you feel this need more strongly than the infinitely holy God? The Righteous One, who hates evil with a perfect hatred?

Of course you don’t. He feels the need to repay wrong infinitely more than you do — because he is infinitely more than you. The wrong that has been done to you (and the wrong that you have done) is infinitely greater in his eyes than in yours. He has infinitely more capacity for outrage than you do. He is infinitely more grieved than you are.

Thus we learn that the very same God who keeps chesed — lovingkindness, steadfast covenant love — for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin…is the very same God who will by no means clear the guilty (Ex 34:7).

He will always punish sin.

He will always avenge.

That is why there is a cross. That is why we celebrate Easter.

The forgiveness of God, overlooking transgressions, does not diminish the wickedness of sin. God does not wink at the magnitude of evil. He forgives sin in order to bring the world to the cross, where he pours out his wrath upon Christ — the only one who could bear the infinite force of furious punishment due for every vile and wicked thing we have ever done.

Surely our sicknesses he hath borne,
And our pains he hath carried,
And yet we accounted him stricken,
Smitten of God, and afflicted.
And he was pierced for our transgressions,
Crushed for our iniquities,
The discipline of our peace was upon him,
And by his wounds are we healed.
All of us as unto sheep have wandered,
Each man to his way we have turned,
And Yahweh hath caused to meet upon him,
The iniquity of us all.
It was exacted, and he was afflicted,
And yet not did he open his mouth,
As a lamb he was brought to the slaughter,
And as a ewe in the face of its shearers is dumb,
And not did he open his mouth. (Isa 53:4–7)

God forgives sin for a while, in order that we might come to Christ to be forgiven forever. He passes over former sins in order to make him to be sin — Christ — who knew no sin; that we might become the righteousness of God. He forgives the debt in order to bring us to repentance and reconciliation; he begins the process so that we may reciprocate.

Thus he expects us to do in our lives, what he has done in the life of the world: to let go of the offense.

Not in order that the offense may go unpunished (for that would be an outrage to justice), but in order that the offender may be led to Christ, and the offense may be punished in Christ. There will be wrath; there will be vengeance — and God would rather take it upon himself. He requires us, as his sons, his images, to be of a like mind: unwilling that our enemies may perish, but rather that they turn and live.

But if they will not, there will be vengeance, and it is his to execute. Thus we are told:

Avenge not yourselves, beloved, but give place unto the wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. But if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him to drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good. (Ro 12:19–21)

Paul, of course, is echoing David in Psalm 37:

Do not fret because of evil doers,
Be not envious against doers of iniquity,
For as grass they are quickly cut off,
And as the greenness of the tender grass, do fade.
Trust in Yahweh, and do good. (Ps 37:1–3)

“Trust in Yahweh, and do good.” You see both sides of this in play with Paul — both mercy and justice, forgiveness and vengeance — as he writes to Timothy:

Alexander the coppersmith did me much evil: the Lord will render to him according to his works: of whom do thou also beware; for he greatly withstood our words. At my first defense no one took my part, but all forsook me: may it not be laid to their account. (2 Ti 4:14–16)

Alexander is an apostate (1 Ti 1:20). Paul has no mercy for him, for of him the warnings of Hebrews 10 are true; he has only

a certain fearful expectation of judgment, and a fierceness of fire which shall devour the adversaries. A man that hath set at naught the law of Moses died without compassion on the word of two or three witnesses: of how much worse punishment, think ye, shall he be judged worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant wherewith he was hallowed an unholy thing, and hath insulted the Spirit of grace? For we know him that said, Vengeance belongeth unto me, I will repay. And again, The Lord shall judge his people. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. (Heb 10:27–31)

That is the fate of Alexander. Yet in the next breath, Paul says that he was wronged by many who did not defend him when they ought to have — “may it not be laid to their account.” May God forgive them, in other words.

In both cases, Paul has let the offense go. And in both cases, he has let it go into God’s hands.

In one case, he knows God will repay the offense. In the other, he believes God will forgive it — which is to say, it is punished in Christ, nailed to the cross and done away with, and buried in the earth.

Every single man and woman has a time of forgiveness that is meant to lead them to repentance — and when that time is up, they are either found in Christ, forgiven eternally because their sin is paid in full…or they are not — and they will pay in full eternally.

Applying forgiveness

We must remember that forgiveness is indeed letting go of the offense and not holding it to the account of the scumbag who wronged us — but this does not mean “letting it go into the void” as if it never happened and will never be dealt with. (Neither does it mean “letting it go like it’s no big deal” — as if our hurt and outrage is merely a result of our own inflated ego, and nothing really bad actually happened.)

It means letting it go to God for judgment.

Forgiveness is a teleological action — an action with the end in mind, in imitation of how God himself acts. Either the offense will be put under the judgment of the cross, or it will be put under the judgment of vengeance upon the perpetrator. And this vengeance is not merely the judgment of hell. We are not only looking to the final judgement. Romans 12 — where Paul tells us to leave vengeance to God and rather do good to our enemies — is immediately followed by Romans 13, where he describes the vengeance of God as being executed by the magistrate. To forgive and to leave vengeance to God, therefore, is certainly not to neglect justice even in this life.

The Christian is required to forgive even the man who murders his son. He must give up personal vengeance. But the magistrate is required to execute God’s vengeance — because to ignore murder would throw the world into chaos and wickedness. When you murder someone, by your own choice you give up the time of forbearance that God had in store for you; the time he would have given you, to lead you to repentance. When you commit such high-handed violence against the image of God himself, he demands an account immediately: you are to be put to death so that you may face him directly.

In the same way, high-handed sins within the church must also be dealt with severely. Every Christian is required to forgive not just the unremorseful murderer, but also the brother who wrongs him and laughs about it. But the church is not required to forgive. Again, it would overturn justice to do so. God’s forbearance does not last forever. A brother who will not repent tramples Christ underfoot and insults the Spirit of grace. He had received Christ, he was united to Christ, he tasted of the heavenly gift — and now he despises it by sinning without regret or sorrow? Without seeking reconciliation? Such a man should only expect judgment, and the church is authorized and commanded to execute that judgment on behalf of Christ: not as the magistrate does, with the Sword, but with an even more fearful tool — the Keys. By locking him out of the kingdom.

Jesus therefore said to them again, Peace be unto you: as the Father hath sent me, even so send I you. And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and saith unto them, Receive ye the Holy Spirit: whose soever sins ye forgive, they are forgiven unto them; whose soever sins ye retain, they are retained. (Jn 20:21–23)

And again,

Amen I say to you, Whatever things ye may bind upon the earth shall be having been bound in the heavens, and whatever things ye may loose on the earth shall be having been loosed in the heavens. (Mt 18:18)

It is a fearful thing to have your sins bound and retained by the church — for it is Christ’s own declaration that those sins are not covered by him, they are not punished in his cross; but are being stored up for the day of wrath, and he will punish them eternally in the person of the sinner himself.

But…the church also looses and forgives sins on Christ’s behalf. She is authorized to judge that you are repentant. That you are forgiven in Christ. That you have received forgiveness — as evidenced by how you forgive. She is authorized to let your sins against God go into the hands of Christ, because you let the sins against you go into the hands of Christ. Forgiveness has to go all the way down, in order to go all the way up. We love much because we have been forgiven much. And we have been forgiven much because we were first loved much.

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Until next month,

Bnonn