Community Church Sermons

The Seventeenth Sunday After Pentecost – September 15, 2002

"The Forgiveness Business”

Matthew 18:21-35

 

One of the great heroes in my life is a man whose influence and success extended far out into American society simply by way of the catchy television commercials in which he starred.

 

His name is Frank Perdue – the chicken guy -  and his immortal words were, “It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken.”

 

What wonderful words! What powerful thoughts! And how surprised I was to discover that Frank Perdue’s familiar motto gives us great insight into the provocative words of Jesus in today’s Scripture lesson from Matthew 18.

 

“How many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me?” That’s the question Peter asks to begin our lesson today. “Up to seven times?” “No,” Jesus answers, “forgive him seventy TIMES seven.”

 

And then comes the story about a king who is settling accounts with his servants, and one is deeply in debt to him – owing more than he can possibly repay. The king orders all this servant’s possessions – including his wife and children – sold off to pay the debt. But the servant falls on his knees and begs for the king’s patience. And the king takes pity on him and cancels the debt.

 

But on the way home, this forgiven servant runs into a guy who owes him a few bucks. He grabs the guy by the throat, and choking him, demands payment. The debtor begs for patience, but the forgiven man refuses. He files charges with the authorities and has the man thrown into jail.

 

Word comes back to the king about what the forgiven man did to the other person who owed him money. And the king gets ticked off and revokes the cancellation.

 

One of the problems we often encounter when we try to understand the Bible is that we get bogged down in details that sometimes have nothing really to do with the point the Bible is trying to make, and the truth it is trying to teach. We hear the question “How many times must I forgive a person who sins against me?” and hear Jesus’ response, “Seventy-TIMES-seven” (which means that forgiveness is unlimited), and we assume that what this means is that when your spouse comes home drunk for the three thousandth time, you’re supposed to just forgive and forget. When your neighbor says or does something that hurts you – and continues to do it over and over again – you’re supposed to just turn the other cheek. When your kid gets caught for the fifth time with cocaine you’re supposed to find understanding. When someone attacks you, or commits a crime against you, or threatens your well-being, you’re supposed to pretend like it never happened.

 

Last Wednesday evening, on the anniversary of 9/11, one of the news shows interviewed The God Squad. Do you know who I mean? Monsignor Thomas Hartman and Rabbi Marc Gellman. And the question they were asked was about the relationship between the religious principle of forgiveness and those behind the terrorist attacks. And the questions that were asked of Monsignor Hartman and Rabbi Gellman were so typical - presupposing the notion that (a) religious people are to always forgive, (b) that forgiveness means “letting the offender off the hook”, and (c) that forgiveness is a stupid idea in such a violent and immoral world as ours. Thankfully, The God Squad was too wise to take the bait and instead was able to paint a broader picture of what forgiveness means.

 

And that’s what we are invited to discover in this passage from Matthew 18. This is not about details of the timing, or the repetition, or the technique, or the method of forgiveness. Don’t read this passage as a law with step-by-step instructions! No, this passage is about the bigger picture. This passage is about the business of God. This passage is not so much about the individual as it is about the sacred work of the Church of Jesus Christ.

 

Perhaps placed in this larger context you can see the problem in the passage. The king, representing God, offers a fallen human being some grace. But that fallen and forgiven human being can’t find it in his heart to offer the same grace toward another.

 

You see, Frank Perdue had it right. It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken. And this story tells us it takes a tough Church to make a tender person.

 

That’s the business of the Church, you know. You and I are called to the business of forgiveness which I would describe as the business of tenderizing people. Forgiveness is a process of helping self-absorbed, self-centered people open up the center of their lives to God. It is helping hateful people put down their hatred, and learn instead to love. It is showing irresponsible people how to become responsible toward others, and start contributing to the common good. It is transforming people who all their lives have practiced selfishness, and callousness, and destructiveness into men and women who practice self-less care toward their neighbors, and sensitivity to the needs of others, and who build up and heal rather than tear down and hurt the people and things around them. That’s the work of the Church. That’s the business of forgiveness. Making hardened human beings tender!

 

And its difficult, this tenderizing business.  Oh, its tough work to make a tender person!

 

Now it’s important to understand that the goal of Christian forgiveness is not to sanitize people from their sins. No, the goal of Christian forgiveness, according to this story, is to tenderize people in how they live in relationship to others! The king forgave the servant for the sole purpose of making him forgiving. And this tenderizing process is the work we are called to do in the Church!

 

So let me ask you. How do you think the Church is doing these days tenderizing people?

 

I don’t know about you, but as I look out at the Christian Church today, I don’t see a whole lot of tenderness. There seems to be plenty of judgment. Lots of condemnation. Not a lot of understanding. Plenty of criticism. And a frightening degree of willingness to simply discard people who don’t think and live like we do. Why, to listen to some Christians today, the best thing that could ever happen would be for God to take us safely home to heaven, and then blow up the world and all those who are “left behind.” Not a lot of tenderness in that thought!

 

But I don’t want to dwell today on how tough a piece of chicken we are in the Church today. Instead, I want to explore with you how we can change and become the tenderhearted people God wants us to be.

 

And this story in Matthew 18 gives some wonderful insight into what it takes to make the Church a tenderizing agent.

 

Will you notice in the story, first of all, that even though the servant has sinned against the king, the king never stops treating him like a member of the kingdom. Despite the servant’s insurmountable debt, the king sees him not as an enemy, but still as a servant of the king. There is an acceptance here. There is dignity given to the servant. As indebted as the servant is, he is STILL a member of the king’s household. I’d say that the king practices hospitality toward the servant. And that is where the tenderizing process of forgiveness begins. The Church must practice open hospitality to EVERYONE, and most especially to those who are in debt to God..

 

Then you’ll notice a second element in the story. The king requires accountability. He settles accounts with the servant. And the servant is found wanting. Contrary to popular opinion, forgiveness does not let people off the hook. Forgiveness requires accountability.

 

And the way we do this in the Church is by always holding up before people the high values of the King and His Kingdom. We lift up Christian love as the highest standard of life, and invite people to measure themselves against it. We preach about helping others, and praying for others, and building up others, and taking care of others. We hold high the values of kindness and generosity and mutual care. We call people to trust in God, and to live accordingly. And do you know what happens when we hold up these standards of accountability? Over time, people begin to identify their own shortcomings, and slowly but surely are convinced of the need to change. Tenderizing people requires hospitality and accountability.

 

And accountability leads to responsibility. Responding to God’s grace by changing our ways.

 

Just before leaving on vacation I preached my Beer Barrel Polka sermon. It was a sermon about reconciliation, and it ended with a story about a daughter who built a bridge to her estranged father by putting down her pride and asking him to dance with her to The Beer Barrel Polka. You had to be there.  I loved that sermon!

 

But one of the best things of all was what one of our members said on the way out the door that day. “Please pray for me because there’s someone in my family I know I need to ask to dance!”

 

In the Church, we hold up ideals that are higher than the world’s standards. And, in the process, people discover how deeply in debt to God we are. And how we need to change. And what we need to do. That’s accountability followed by responsibility.

 

And then comes one more thing in this process of forgiveness. Charitability. Is that a word? How about Tenderability?

 

You know what I’m saying. We take up the challenge of offering to others the same grace we ourselves have received.. And we do it by relating to other fallen sinners like ourselves tenderly! And, as Matthew shows us, we do this by practicing … hospitality… accountability … responsibility … and calling others to charitability, too!

 

A few weeks ago, Sandy and I worshipped at Greendale People’s Church in Worcester, Massachusetts where I served before coming here. And attending services at Greendale in August is always a tender experience for me because I’m reminded of the anniversary of the death of a dear young woman.

 

“Kelly” had lived a hard life. Raised in a family without any real parental nurture, where the children more or less were left to raise themselves, Kelly’s life had been a sad, sad story of drug addiction, constant trouble, and self-destruction.

 

I don’t know how she found her way to the church, but she did. I can remember Kelly sneaking into one of the back rows, dressed more for the bar scene than the church scene, looking older than her years and all worn out and tired. She had her ten-year old son with her. Together they sat in the back row, sort of hiding from the other people.

 

But that day, something wonderful happened to Kelly. She was welcomed by the people! She was befriended. She was treated with respect, like a child of God, even though she was living a long ways apart from God. The people of the church opened their arms, and took in Kelly and her son.

 

One day, Kelly came to me. “I think I need to start dressing differently,” she said. “Why?” I asked, although something inside me just knew that sooner or later Kelly had to get out of the cocktail dresses and into something more befitting her own dignity. “Your sermon – about how we Christians need to model a good life for our children. That hit me hard. I thought to myself, ‘My poor kid has a mother who looks like she’s always going to a party. I think I need to change.”

 

And she did. The next time I saw Kelly, she was wearing a very nice business suit. Her son looked so proud!

 

Some moths later, Kelly came to see me again. “I’m an addict, you know.” “I know,” I said. “We need to start something here to help addicts.” “What do you think we should do?” “I heard of a group called Recovery. Do you think we can start one here?” “Who do think would lead it?” I asked. “I’ll lead it,” Kelly answered. And she did.

 

And over the years, dozens of God’s beautiful children were helped to deal with their drug problems. Kelly went on to do a beautiful job raising her son. She started her own business doing Real Estate titles. She met a loving man whom she married shortly I moved here. I felt sorry that I couldn’t go to the wedding.

 

I never saw her again. As Kelly was leading one of her meetings a couple of Augusts ago, an aneurism burst in her brain, and she’s gone home to be with the Lord. But the tender beauty of her transformed life is still in the air when we worship at Greendale each August.

 

It takes a tough Church to make tender people. It takes a lot of work. And it takes a lot of time. How much time? Why, sometimes as much as seventy times seven time!

 

Forgiveness is the art of tenderizing people, and it is business of the Christian Church. How do you think we’re doing? And how can we do it better?