Why Forgiveness Is Foolish

A few weeks ago a ten-year-old visitor showed up at my door wanting to chat.

           

He’s shorter than most his age, but he’s built like a tank, with an attitude to match. I invited him to sit on my porch, and offered him a snack as per my usual routine. But instead of tearing into his bag of Sunchips, he clutched it tight, staring at the ground as he slumped in one of my green plastic lawn chairs. 

I hadn’t seen him in a few months, which I’ve found to be common with most of the students in my park. I’ll see them for a few weeks, then they’ll disappear for awhile.

He didn’t speak, so I quizzed him about his day, his family, and his invisible pet rhinoceros. The last request snuck a smile out of him. Then I asked him how he was doing. A tear rolled down his cheek as he choked out one word. “Bad.”

My heart raced as my mind flipped through every worst case scenario I could think of. I strive to be a peaceful person, but if I found out that someone had hurt this kid, heads were going to roll. When I asked him why he was doing bad, his answer took me by surprise.

Still looking down, he pointed at my window behind his head and said “I’m bad because I did that.”

~~~~

About 18 months before, I was in Dallas visiting my oldest brother on his deathbed when my neighbor called to inform me that some neighborhood kids had busted my windows. I rushed home and found 11 broken windows, well over $2,000 in damage. Some kids had been named in the process, all between 5-11 years old, but the police couldn’t get any to admit it (understandably). After the police left, I managed to get them to confess. No force, no threats needed.

Many events occurred in the weeks following the crime, each deserving their own post, but the most prominent issue that arose was the question of what to do with those kids. Nearly every slice of advice and opinion I received involved the enforcing of consequence:

Press charges. Send them to juvy. Kick their families out.

Sue them for the damages. Teach them a lesson they won’t forget.

I agreed that a lesson needed to be taught. But I couldn’t shake the voice in my heart that was very quietly uttering the opposite of what came natural to me.

“Teach them forgiveness.”

~~~~

A few years ago at a Catalyst conference, educator and activist Geoffrey Canada shared stories about ministering to at-risk youth in Harlem, and mentioned something that blew me away.

When he first began working with his students, he originally thought that all they needed in order to get on track was a clear understanding of consequence. But he soon discovered that he couldn’t have been more wrong.

He realized that many of the troublesome boys in his program had siblings, parents, or relatives in jail, so they were already VERY aware of consequence. Consequence was in front of their face every single day. And yet it did very little to stop them from committing crimes. If consequence wasn’t the lesson they needed to learn, then what was?

That answer, he found, was forgiveness.

Having someone know what you did to them, or to their stuff…

Understanding your deserved consequence…

Then being flat out forgiven for it….On purpose…

Having it never mentioned again…Never owing anything for it…

Forgiveness was something thing they knew nothing of.  It wasn’t modeled for them in their homes. It wasn’t modeled on the streets, in the schools, on the playgrounds.

When forgiveness entered their story, a change rippled through their community like you wouldn’t believe.

Of course it did. Why wouldn’t it? Why shouldn’t it?

I mean, it’s the method that God used to save humanity, after all.

~~~~

When I made it public that I wasn’t going to press charges, some of my friends and family thought I had lost my mind. They were probably right.

Even the park staff thought I was crazy. The week following the window break, I stood in the park office and pleaded with the staff to refrain from kicking out the families involved. The oddity of the request was lost on none of us. One staff member asked why I’d do such a thing. I told her that I wanted to use it as a way to show forgiveness, and she said, “well you’re a much better person than me.”

“No, I’m not, really.” I replied. “I just know that I’ve been forgiven of way too many things to let this opportunity pass.”

Some people even told me I was being foolish. I wasn’t mad at them for saying so. In fact, I completely agreed with them. SOMEONE had to pay for the windows, and I couldn’t afford to, so it really WAS foolish!

But a family from church had heard what happened and immediately offered to fix windows before I could even think to ask. When they did that, it altered the plot of the window saga, because suddenly I had a clear avenue for forgiveness.

Because forgiveness doesn’t mean the absence of consequence.

In fact, forgiveness is ONLY possible with a consequence attached. No matter what the misdeed is, someone has to pay for it. The incurred debt doesn’t disappear. Someone has to sacrifice something.

God didn’t let us off the hook from our sins just because he was feeling warm and fuzzy. Someone had to pay the debts that you and I owe. Someone had to cover the costs. Our consequence didn’t go away. Jesus paid it.

These kids couldn’t pay the debt they incurred. Neither could their families, for that matter. But when someone else covered the consequence, forgiveness was possible.

It was completely foolish to not charge them. It was totally unfair.
But something told me it was just the thing that might change their lives.

Because I know that being forgiven changed mine.

~~~~

So as this boy sat on my porch, gesturing at my window with the very same hand that had thrown rocks through it just over a year earlier, I was shocked to hear that the window smashing was still bugging him.

“Are you talking about when you broke my windows? Is that why you think you’re doing bad?”

He nodded.

“Do you remember what I told you after the windows got fixed?”

He nodded again. “You said that someone paid for them, so I didn’t have to.”

“Do I ever ask you about the windows?” I asked.

He shook his head no.

“And I never will. Do you think I’m still mad at you? Is that why I haven’t seen you?”

He nodded yet again, looking more like a bobble-head than a boy at this point.

“Do you remember what I said about forgiveness?” I prodded.

He stuttered very slowly, “You… you said that you cared about me, and that you forgave me, and God forgave me. You said I don’t owe you anything. I just need to make good choices.”

He had remembered every word. And I knew that he had kept out of trouble since then. So why did he ask me again?

He was checking to make make sure nothing had changed. 

Forgiveness can be tough to swallow sometimes.

Those of us who have been forgiven of much…we know this firsthand.

When someone else pays your debt, when you don't get what you deserve, it changes you.

The restored freedom you receive has an unspoken responsibility attached to it.
And the bigger the debt, the more it changes you. (Luke 7:47)

But it can be hard to trust and believe that you don’t owe anything,

Sometimes you even feel the need to check in and be reminded that it’s over.

And that’s exactly what this kid was doing. 

Looks like that whole forgiveness thing was actually working after all.

I pulled his chin up and made him look at me for the first time since we sat down.

I could see his eyes searching mine for hope.

“When I told you all those things, I meant them. It’s been a long time since then. But do you know what has changed?”

He shook his head again.

“Nothing,” I smiled, “You’re still forgiven. You’ll always be forgiven. I’ll always care about you no matter what you do. God still has big plans for you, buddy, and He loves you, too.”

His flashed his biggest smile. “Thanks, Pastor Mike. I gotta go home now.” Clearly a man of few words. He jumped up, and raced away as abruptly as he had arrived.

~~~~

Forgiveness IS foolish.
But sometimes it’s exactly what’s needed to change a life.