Some Thoughts on Forgiveness

I did not watch the entire Charlie Kirk funeral, but found what I did catch interesting. I was encouraged to hear the gospel proclaimed fully and without compromise from many speakers. I was tentatively hopeful to hear non-Christian speakers groping their way God-ward as they recognized and honored a faith they do not necessarily share. I was troubled (as I often am) to witness a fusion of Christian profession and conservative politics that can be difficult to sort through with discernment.

Philippians 1:18 comes to mind:

“What then? Only that in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice.”

What I can without reservation commend is not only the proclamation of the gospel of salvation by grace through faith in Christ alone but the enacting of this gospel by Erika Kirk as she forgave her husband’s killer.

Writing in my journal the next morning, I pondered: What does it mean to forgive? Moreover, how does one forgive such an atrocity? I have a difficult enough time moving past petty grievances that, on the plot arc of my life, are little more than blips. How could I ever forgive the cold-blooded, public murder of someone so close to me?

As providence would have it, I came across the following passage from On the Christian Life by John Calvin that same morning. Considering how we should love and forgive our enemies, he writes:

“Say you are not indebted to any service they have done for you; but God has, in a way, presented them as a substitute for himself so that in them you may recognize the many and tremendous benefits with which God has obligated you to himself. Say that they are unworthy of even your least effort on their behalf; but the image of God, which commends them to you, is worthy of your handing over yourself and all you have.

Even if they have deserved nothing good from you, and not only that, but have also provoked you with insults and wrongdoing—not even this is just cause for you to stop embracing them in love and performing the duties of love toward them (Matt. 6:14–15; 18:35; Luke 17:3–4).

You will say, ‘They deserve something far different from me.” But what does the Lord deserve? When he directs you to forgive someone for whatever sins were committed against you, he clearly intends for those sins to be imputed to himself.

This is really the only way to accomplish what is not only difficult but utterly contrary to human nature: to love those who hate us, to repay their acts of malice with good, and to reply to curses with blessings (Matt. 5:44). We must only remember that we should not reflect on people’s malice but consider the image of God in them, which covers over and erases their offenses and which, by that image’s beauty and dignity, draws us to love and embrace them.”¹

We naturally want to believe that those who wrong us deserve our hatred. But we are not called to ask what our enemies deserve but what our Savior deserves—indeed, demands. We can only forgive our enemies by looking at Christ.

This week, I’ve continued to consider Calvin’s explanation of forgiveness. It has been so helpful to me, convicting me of my selfish and stubborn slowness to forgive.

While I rejoice in the example of forgiveness we saw from Erika Kirk, I have been grieved to see Christians make light of President Trump’s subsequent refusal to forgive. Taking the podium, he declared with a snide chuckle, “I hate my opponents and I don’t want the best for them.”

An influential author who (somewhat ironically) built her platform by criticizing pastors she views as politically compromised defended the president’s vindictive statement, saying that it was clear that the he was joking, it was “hilarious,” and we all needed to lighten up.

Respectfully, no.

May we as forgiven sinners never treat withheld forgiveness lightly. May we never laugh at a person’s refusal to forgive. To do so is to laugh at the evidence of that person’s condemnation—and it is hard to imagine a crueler joke. Remember the daunting words of the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors” (Matt. 6:12). Forgiveness is not a game. It’s a matter of life and death—eternally.

Instead of passing off the president’s bitterness as a joke, we need to accept it as what it is: a clear indication that he does not yet know the saving grace of our Lord Jesus. Pray for his humility, repentance, and ultimate salvation—but don’t laugh along with his lostness. Don’t brush off something Scripture treats with the utmost severity simply because you prefer his politics.

To clarify, the government has a responsibility to punish evil and protect its citizens. But when individuals stew in bitterness and plot “getting even,” the result is not justice but revenge.

I’ll leave you with a final thought from Holocaust survivor Corrie Ten Boom. Faced with a tremendous injustice, she felt the natural urge to retaliate. But the Lord restrained her and she realized this astonishing truth:

“Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him… And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on [Christ’s]. When he tells us to love our enemies, he gives, along with the command, the love itself.”²

Don’t look at your enemies; look at Christ and pray that they would come to do the same. That is the way to forgiveness.

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