Sunday Morning Worship

June 27, 2010

“The Hardest Words to Say”

Matthew 5:21-24, 38-45

Prayer: How precious is your Word, O Lord! How rare and unique is its power to transform, to heal, and to provide hope. Your Word calls us to something real, something true, and something lasting. Teach us to hear, to recognize your voice, to respond with great expectation to your call to worship, to faith, and to prayer. Now, teach us to see with the eyes of faith, and to be aware of your holy presence. Amen.

I share a story about a shopkeeper in the Midwest who had identical twin sons. The sons were very close and dressed alike, went to the same schools, and did all the same things. Neither ever married, and when their father died they took over running the family business.

One day a customer came in and made a small purchase. The brother who waited on him put the five-dollar bill on top of the cash register and walked the man to the front door. Sometime later, he remembered what he had done, but when he went to the cash register, he found the five-dollar bill gone. He asked his brother if he found and put it into the register, but the brother said he knew nothing about the money.

“That’s funny,” said the other. “I clearly remember placing it here on the register, and no one else has been in the store since then.”

Now, had the matter been dropped at that point nothing would have come of it. However, an hour later, this time with a noticeable hint of suspicion in his voice, the brother asked again, “Are you sure you didn’t see that five-dollar bill and put it in the register?” The other brother was quick to catch the note of accusation, and flared back in defensive anger.

Well, that was the beginning of the first serious falling-out that had ever come between the two brothers, and the split grew wider and wider. Every time they tried to discuss the issue, new charges and counter charges mixed into the brew, until finally things got so bad that they were forced to end their partnership. They ran a partition down the middle of their father’s store and turned what once had been a friendly partnership into angry competition. Soon, the two businesses became a source of division in the community itself with each twin trying to secure customers for himself against the other. This open warfare went on for over twenty years.

Then, one day a car with an out-of-state license drove up and a well-dressed man got out and went into one of the stores. He asked how long the merchant had been in business in that location. When he found out that it was over twenty years, the man said, “Then you’re the one with whom I must settle an old score.”

“Some twenty years ago,” he said, “I was out of work, drifting from place to place, and I happened to get off a box car in your town. I had absolutely no money and had not eaten for several days. As I was walking down the alley behind your store, I looked in the back door and saw a five-dollar bill on top of the cash register. I’d been raised in a Christian home and I’d never in all my life before stolen anything, but that morning I was so hungry that I gave in to temptation, slipped through the door, and took that bill. This has weighed on my conscience ever since, and I finally decided that I’d never be at peace until I came back and made restitution. Would you let me now replace that money and pay you whatever is appropriate in interest?”

At that point, the stranger was surprised to see the old man standing in front of him shaking his head and beginning to cry. When he’d gotten hold of himself, the old man took the stranger by the arm and said, “I want you to go next door and repeat the story you’ve just told me.” The stranger did, only this time there were two old men who looked remarkably alike, both weeping uncontrollably.

Twenty years of hostility and resentment and it all went back to a spirit of suspicion and mistrust that had no basis. How quickly do misunderstandings and assumptions grow into alienations? Before we know it, friendships are ruined, marriages are on the rocks, families break up, and nations go to war.

It’s not easy being human, living together, and trying to get along. Each of us is a bundle of contradictions and we act and react with feelings we don’t understand and have trouble controlling. Furthermore, we live life within a certain time, one we did not choose and in most cases with people we did not choose either, under conditions (for the most part) we did not create. This can frustrate us and fulfill us, drive us and bless us. Add to this the fact that you’ll always be something of a mystery to me and I’ll always be something of a mystery to you. You claim your rights and space and I claim mine, and when we share life together, some friction and collisions are bound to happen. Communication and mutual understanding stumble because we bring different points of references, expectations, values, and responses. It’s easy to feel threatened, misunderstood, and misused. You’re not always what I expect you to be; I’m not always what you want or need me to be. So misinterpretations occur, defensive postures are taken, messages between us become disconnected or incomplete, responses are distorted or misdirected, and before long, anger flares, accusation and judgment fall, and words and actions humiliate and wound. Between us appear barren landscapes that mark the battle lines we’ve drawn, desolate wastelands of alienation and estrangement.

As we gather to worship this morning, our prayer and plea is this: “Jesus stand among us, in thy risen power,” and lead us through our alienations until we can live together, create together, play together, grow together, and serve together. The Good News is that our Lord is ready to do it, for this concern loomed large in his teachings with special urgency. He who knew well our human hypocrisy and dilemmas and recognized our need, taught:

You have heard that it was said to the men (and women) of old, “You shall not kill; and whoever kills shall be liable to judgment.” But I say to you that every one who is angry with his brother (or sister) shall be liable to judgment … So if you are offering your gift at the altar, and there remember that your brother (or sister) has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother (or sister), and then come and offer your gift ... You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” But I say to you, “Do not resist one who is evil. But if any one strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him (or her) the other also … You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” But I say to you, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons (and daughters) of your Father who is in heaven …

A hard teaching, yes, but to be a follower of Jesus today is to give ourselves to these requisites, to live out such love, kindness and reconciliation, to move beyond our alienations, entering the distance between us to overcome and reduce hostility, communicating toward understanding and finding ways to come closer together.

Several years ago, the small daughter in a certain family was killed by a reckless, thoughtless teenage driver. The boy had been in trouble before and had many family problems, portraying the telltale signs of a dead-end life of crime and violence. But that pattern was reversed and he found eternal life instead of a road to hell, love instead of violence. How? Why? Because the family of that little girl, for whose death he was responsible, took him in. Instead of being bitter and unforgiving, they asked for greater faith, the kind lived out in Christ’s Spirit, and they forgave him and made him a member of their family, becoming for him the family he’d never known. By great faith, God moved them beyond their hurt and anger. They surrounded the young man with God-given love until he himself claimed that same love and accepted Jesus Christ as his Savior and Lord.

To speak the two hardest words there are to say, “I’m sorry,” is sometimes all we can do when we’ve caused a separation, either deliberately or unknowingly. Sometimes we feel that we cannot ask to be forgiven because the shame is so complete. But we can pray to God for help in carrying our burden, and God’s enabling love through Christ gives us the courage to say the words, “I was wrong. Please forgive me!” In saying the words, in feeling the words, and in acting out the words we can ask for the relationship to be restored again. All we can do is ask, to make sure the person we’ve hurt or shut out knows that we want to be taken back again, that we truly regret and repent of what’s happened. However, there’s nothing we can do to create the forgiveness that will bring us together again. Forgiveness must come and be offered from the injured side. But to take that first step and speak the words, “I’m sorry,” shows our readiness to receive the forgiveness if it’s offered. It may not be offered. That’s the risk we take. But it signals our intent to break the weary cycle of getting even, to keep the quarrel from growing wider, to make amends if we can, to heal the hurts when possible, to forsake whatever caused the alienation, and to be reconciled.

There are two other hard words to say. If we’re the one who’s been hurt and offended, we must also find the courage to speak the difficult words, “You’re forgiven.” Sometimes we feel we cannot forgive because the hurt’s too great. But we can ask Jesus for his help and through his forgiving Spirit we’re given the strength to do it, to find within us love great enough to keep from nursing our grievances, to keep from picking at the scabs of old wounds, and to rise above the desire for revenge. It’s not forgetting the injury or the pain, it’s remembering, but while remembering, adopting a different attitude toward the situation and the other person and refusing to let it consume us or sour our life. It’s to realize how destructive hatred is, how oppressive suspicion and vengeance become; it’s to realize that life is too short to waste, too short to be miserable and moody. To see the hurt with new perspective and with a reworked attitude is what forgiveness is all about. When such forgiveness is asked for and offered, reconciliation occurs, friendships are restored, marriages are saved, families are reunited and nations live in peace.

“But pastor,” you say. “That’s all well and good, but you don’t live in the same world that I do. I have hurts so great in my life that it’s been difficult to even listen to you this morning. I’ve been betrayed by so many that it’s difficult for me to even believe in a God of love.”

Let me share something else with you—a true story. When I went back to college in preparation for becoming an ordained minister, a new pastor came to our home church. He and I became good friends and I valued his advice and insight regarding matters of theology and pastoral leadership. He influenced my decision to attend the seminary from which he had graduated. Years later, he and I served together on our Conference’s Board of Ordained Ministry and, when I was feeling discouraged about some problems we were having with one of our children, this pastor friend invited me to work with him in the church to which he had been appointed. Our good relationship continued and we enjoyed working with one another until something happened that left him feeling insecure.

He called me early one Sunday morning and asked if I could do the preaching. He wasn’t feeling well and thought it best that he stayed home in bed. I said, “Sure, I’ll be glad to.”

That morning in worship while explaining to the congregation why I was filling in, I said, “I’m your substitute preacher this morning.” Simple enough, right? But the congregation applauded and I was surprised and embarrassed. Word got back to my friend who was the senior pastor and things between us were never the same again. It grew worse when I walked in the church secretary’s office one day and, with his back to me, overheard him putting me down. I tried several times to approach the subject of our conflict with him, but he would not discuss it.

Although we remained cordial with one another, we never settled the issue. He never said, “I’m sorry” and I never said, “You’re forgiven.” My pastor, mentor, and friend died a couple of years ago and there’s an emptiness inside me that stays. I discovered that there’s some other difficult words to say, “It’s too late.”

I’ll close with this word. A couple of generations ago a young Christian missionary went to India. During his travels, he was privileged to spend some time with Gandhi and to have a conversation with him. The young missionary asked if there was some advice he might give a young missionary in that land. Gandhi’s reply was simple and yet most telling. He said, “Be like Jesus.” That same invitation is extended this morning to all who love him and who want to live in peace with one another. This is a new opportunity for us to show others that we want to be like Jesus. That is, after all, the meaning of the word “Christian.” Let us pray:

Forgiving Friend, Loving Lord, help us to perceive the hypocrisy of hatred and the self-destructive result of long-held resentments. Oh, how our hostility holds us within a chilling grasp! Restore in our hearts, we pray, the freedom of forgiveness and the ability to look beyond our hurt and anger to the day of reconciliation—the healing restoration of broken relationships and broken hearts. Give us the courage to release our rage, to forget our pain, to forgive our past. Give us faith to see beyond the logic of legalism to the foolishness of love. Set us free from our fear, for we pray in your holy name. Amen.