Asking Forgiveness

sermon by Carrie Eikler
Psalm 32:1-7, Luke 15:11-24
Forgiveness Series 2

Torin and I joked, as we were preparing for this series on forgiveness, that we had to break the four topics down so we each got one easy one and one hard one.  Like I said last week, forgiveness is hard in general.  But when we talk about “easy” and “hard” we’re talking about the topics where there are lots said about this aspect of forgiveness.  Last week was my easy one.  God’s forgiveness.  Easy.

Asking forgiveness.  Um.  Where are the books about asking forgiveness?  There are lots about giving forgiveness.  Websites dedicated to it.  Ooodles of devotionals on it. But asking for it…Not so much.

Now let me qualify that. There are lots of scriptures and conversations about asking God for forgiveness, but not much on helping us with the very real spiritual struggle of asking another human being for forgiveness when we have hurt them.

This seems to be completely opposite of what we enforce in children, whether in home, school or in church.  How many times have you heard “Say you’re sorry!” when a child does something wrong?  “Why did you do that?  Say you’re sorry!”  to which a resentful “sooorrry” is muttered. 

We tell children to say I’m sorry, and yet we don’t train them how best to respond when someone offers an apology.  What do you hear in response to when children say, “sooorry” to other kids?  If you hear what I hear, it’s “that’s ok”

We’re trying to teach our children not to say “That’s OK.” because, as we know, kicking someone or hitting someone or hurting someone is not OK.  We are trying to get the boys to say “I’m Ok” or simply “Thank you” or, even… “I forgive you.”  (But I think I may be stepping on Torin’s toes and his sermon for next week)

No, as we grow to be adults especially in the church, things get flipped.  We hear more about all the reasons we should give forgiveness (which, admittedly, is not an easy task), and we hear less about how to ask for forgiveness.

This is why I automatically thought of the beloved story of the Prodigal Son.  This is story that you likely think of, as I did at first, about forgiveness on the giving end, right?  The father forgiving the son.  We begin the story by looking at the bad behavior of the son…his greedy entitlement.  And the story ends with the father’s grace-filled forgiveness, even to the shagrin of the elder son.  We know well how it begins, we love how it ends.  But we miss the mucky middle part.  The part where the forgiveness begins…

There he is: penniless, starving, perhaps a perfect picture of our theme psalm: all day, wasting away, feeling dried up as in summer.  We not only think of this young man feeding the pigs, we envision him as living in the pig muck, no better than swine, fighting off the little piggies for the last ear of corn in the desperate face of famine.  He cannot go any lower.

He knows what will save him.  He knows at his father’s home there is warmth and food and good work and companionship.  We know that the only thing that stands between the son and these things is a simple “I’m sorry,” but he doesn’t know that. 

He doesn’t know.  Because of the awful things he did or said…how could he know?

But somehow, he recognizes that it can come in no other way.  He has to return.  He has to ask forgiveness.  Just think of the pride he had to swallow.   Just think of his anxiety of not only facing his father, but his brother, the servants.  What have people been saying about him?  How would they treat him? 

Somehow, whether desperation or hunger or a true need for reconciliation, he mustered the courage to pull himself out of the pig-muck and go to his father. 

Now you, like me, may wonder about this son’s sincerity.  Did he really want reconciliation, or did he just have nowhere else to go?  Ah…isn’t that something we face when we look at our own fear of asking forgiveness?  That others will question our motives?

OK, let’s just look at those, shall we?  What gets in our way of actually asking forgiveness from others?  So, I made up a list of why I am so scared of asking forgiveness.  I bet some of these resonate with you.  Carrie’s list of why she finds it hard to ask forgiveness

1) I know it is wrong to hurt others, and asking forgiveness means admitting I did something wrong and hurt someone else.

Or…it means I made a mistake (which is #2).  And if I make a mistake, my competency is called into question and when my competency is called into question, my self-worth hangs perilously on a cliff.  And that is not a fun place to be.

3) Good Mennonites and Brethren should not be in conflict with one another, right? (Wrong.)

4) asking forgiveness makes me vulnerable.  There is a moment when you seek forgiveness that you stand exposed and the other person has all the power.  And we don’t like other people having that much power.  It’s the seconds that feel like hours where the other person gets to respond and you are so fearful that

5) they won’t forgive you.  What happens if they simply will not forgive you? (pause)

6) they may tell me what a horrible thing I did, which is translated in my mind to what a horrible person I am.  This possibility makes the option of simply not doing anything a lot nicer, doesn’t it?

7)I don’t like asking forgiveness because while it makes me vulnerable, it also makes me witness the vulnerability of someone else.  And when people are vulnerable they do or say things that are not kind, or true, or compassionate, and a terrible cycle of misunderstanding and miscommunication begins, making the situation all that much worse.

8) I don’t want to admit that I am less than perfect and did anything in need of forgiveness

9). there are more and more and more reasons.

At the beginning of my sermon last week, I invited you to think of a situation where you asked for or gave forgiveness.  Right now, I’m going to get into your business a little more, and invite you to consider a relationship where you need to ask forgiveness.

 It could very well be a huge thing: a long-term battle, a generation’s long family feud, it could even be something large where the person you need forgiveness from is not even around anymore to forgive you. 

And yet, it could be some small infraction: that daily violation of trust.  The constant nagging.  The unintended putdowns.   Take a moment and get a situation in your mind: (pause) and know that no one judges you, or berates you, or is asking you to do anything about this right now, so be as honest as possible.

When you think of the situation, picture the faces of the people involved.

Now instead of looking at that face straight on, which is a very vulnerable position, imagine yourself sitting next to that person.  Instead of looking into their face, imagine the upper part of your arms touching, as you sit quietly together.  This is relationship.  This is not a confrontation. 

Now ask yourself, what makes me anxious about asking for forgiveness?  Are you not quite sure what you have done wrong, so you don’t even know how to ask?  Are you scared about what they might say in response? Has too much time passed? 

What keeps you from asking this person to forgive you? (long pause)

And here you are.  In the muck.  Knowing you need to ask forgiveness and mustering the courage to do it.  You are with the prodigal son.  And maybe the story has some advice.  What does the son do?  (if you want, you can open your eyes, or not, as feel led)

Well first, we are resolved that reconciliation is needed.  Last week we talked about forgiveness being a gift given to us to keep us in relationship.  The hardest part can come when I simply admit that something I did hurt someone and our relationship is fractured.  The son recognized the need for forgiveness, and he mustered that courage, swallowed his pride, whatever cliché he did that got him simply moving toward his father. 

We admit to ourselves that we hurt someone, and we go to them.  That might be face to face.  That might be a phone call.  That might be a letter or email where you can think through your thoughts.

Then, as the son did, I state what I did, or at least what I believe I did, as specifically as possible.  I admit that what I did was wrong, or hurtful, or dishonest.  I express regret and ask forgiveness.  Here’s one I had to pull out recently: “Mom, my words were passive aggressive and unhelpful.  It was wrong of me to say that.  I’m sorry.  Please forgive me.”

I love how the story has the son rehearsing his apology  it in his head while he is still far away, hanging out with the pigs.  He says “OK, this is what I’m going to say (deep breath) “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”  I can just seem him muttering it to himself to calm his nerves as walks home, as he crossed the field, as he walked along the olive grove, muttering it to himself as he saw his father’s home (Father, I have sinned against heaven and you), he’s prepared to shield himself from his father’s rage with his apology.

And as he muttered it to himself for the 50-somethingith time, he sees his father.  Running to him.  Why’s he running?  He’s raising his arms…is he going to hit him?  And the arms don’t strike him, but encircle him.  There is no punishment, only compassion, and love. 

He can tell he is forgiven.  He didn’t even get the chance to ask. But that doesn’t stop him.  He still asks for pardon.  “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you…” And that is telling isn’t it?  Even if we know we are forgiven, even if we think like the movie line“Love never means needing to say I’m sorry” there is something that happens to our soul when we ask for it.

Now, that situation you thought of.  It’s not likely that the person you have hurt will come running to you with open arms.  Maybe so, but the likelihood is small.  It’s not likely that you will have such a warm greeting or that the resolution will be as effusive as the one between the father and son.  Forgiveness, as we said last week, is a process.  If there is forgiveness, it will happen slowly.

And the hard reality is…when you ask for forgiveness, you may not receive it.

When you confess your sins, you may get more offenses thrown in your face.

It may be that when you show your vulnerability, someone will take advantage.

But when you choose to seek reconciliation through asking forgiveness, you at least lift yourselves out of the muck that holds your hostage through guilt, or embarrassment, or shame.  And that can bring healing itself. 

And just because we do not know how it will turn out, does not mean we shouldn’t do it.  Because we do not know how it will turn out simply means that we are putting faith in a God who created us for relationships.  We put our faith in reconciliation.  We put our faith in love.

And when we are out of the muck of our guilt and muster the love to ask forgiveness…and we are in that pregnant pause in which anything can happen…finish