Forgiveness Without Repentance?

This is likely a repeat for me, but often I need a reminder. Like many Christians, I've heard countless messages about forgiveness. Some pastors contend that forgiveness is as much for us as it is for the one who wronged us. We feel better if we forgive regardless of what the other person does, and it allows us to go on with our life. Others say that because God forgives us, we must forgive others irrespective of whether the other person is sorry. It took years for me to find a reputable organization that shared my view:

Unconditional forgiveness is canceling a debt to all those who intentionally offend us, whether or not they own up to what they have done. Offering forgiveness without repentance, however, does not follow the biblical model of forgiveness (Luke 17:3,4).

I yelled aloud when I first read this. Someone else *does* get it. God forgives us when we repent -- why would he set an example and then expect us to do something entirely different? The logical answer is (and, for all Christianity's detractors, I contend Christianity is ultimately logical), He doesn't. In the same way God doesn't willy-nilly forgive us our sins, we're not expected to do the same for those who wrong us.

I find this particularly important when considering narcissists. Because a narcissist is never truly sorry they wronged someone, only sorry they were caught, forgiveness doesn't enter the picture. This is why, too, forgiveness *is* conditional on repentance. Repentance doesn't simply mean one verbalizes (or writes) an apology, it means the person agrees that the action was wrong with no qualifications or excuses, decides to rectify whatever they can, and then doesn't do it again.

Once I received a letter from a narcissist that said, roughly, "I've forgiven you for what you've done. Let's see if you can do the same." Beyond the fact that I have no idea what I did, and therefore can't repent of it, the other person doesn't doesn't offer an apology, and in fact, uses the issue of forgiveness to manipulate. When I think I've been too hard on this person, I go back and reread this letter. The letter, a representative example of communications with this person, helps me remember.

Forgiveness is a good thing. Without it, life would be a pointless exercise in physics, chemistry and biology. Forgiveness is also a valuable thing, much too valuable to be thrown around as a freebie. My forgiveness cost Jesus his life. His sacrifice on my behalf should serve as a reminder of just how precious forgiveness is.

Ghost Town

"Ghost Town" goes to a daily devotion from Our Daily Bread, part of RBC Ministries (formerly Radio Bible Class). They're not necessarily deep theology, but they are good food for thought akin, shall I say, to a morning snack.

It's likely no surprise that I am uncomfortable with having cut my self-absorbed mother out of my life. It's been three years now and, although I have great misgivings, the amount of relief involved in ditching the stress a relationship with her brings, speaks volumes. There is a certain peace that comes with it.

So, why the misgivings? Perhaps it's that same nagging feeling that I should feel badly about not having her in my life. One thing is for sure. I do not have complete peace about not having any contact with her.

First, I have no illusions that I am God. I'm not. I do believe, however, that His Word show us the character of God and that character is something we are to follow. In the devotional, we see God allowing His people to be scattered as a means of teaching them what the outcome of their behaviour was. It's here I begin to wonder if there's some insight here for me with respect to my mother. Where I get caught is in the reconciliation part. When God's people realized their sin and turned away, He restored their relationship. God desired to restore the relationship.

I have no desire to reconcile with my mother. None. On the deepest level, having her in my life means fear and pain. It means seeing very clearly what I don't have in the way of a mother. That hurts. It underscores just how alone I was as a child. It means steeling myself against what bizarre or nasty thing may happen. No doubt what I'm missing is the confidence that something will or has changed. I have no idea how to determine when, or if, a positive change has come to pass.