Catherine Larson, Costly

 A year and a half ago when I was raising support for my trip to Rwanda, I received a check that astonished me. The giver wasn’t someone I knew very well. That made the check, which nearly covered the cost of my flight, seem all the more astonishing. That gift had a funny effect on me. It made me want to live up to the trust that friend had reposed in me.

 

Just last week, Jose Abreu, a dear friend of Prison Fellowship, the ministry for which I work, died. Jose and his wife Mayra had once been crack addicts. For a time, Jose supported his small family through breaking into homes and stealing what he could to pay for both food and his addiction.

One such theft led him to prison where a Prison Fellowship volunteer shared Christ with him. Later, that year when he heard about the opportunity to send a gift to his children at Christmastime through Prison Fellowship’s Angel Tree program, he jumped at the opportunity. His wife, Mayra, had been on her way out the door to purchase drugs that night when the Angel Tree gifts arrived for her children. Unaccustomed to Christmas gifts, she and the kids tore into the packages. They weren’t expensive gifts. But Mayra describes how the gifts—such a clear testimony of God’s care and love—overwhelmed her with conviction. She cried out to God and asked Him to deliver her from drugs and to save her.

 

All these years later, Mayra is a field director for Prison Fellowship in New York, making Angel Tree a reality for thousands of other prisoners’ children each year. Over the years she and Jose have taken in 12 children for different periods of time whose parents were incarcerated. One of them, who is still with her, has Cerebral Palsy. We will miss, Jose, whose testimony and love for prisoners changed the hearts of so many. And tonight, I’m thankful as I think of how the gift that he, and the volunteers who purchased it for him, so profoundly affected others. I’m grateful for how gifts can change the hearts of those who receive them.

 

Many people I know love the musical Les Miserables. Perhaps one of the most beloved scenes is where Jean Valjean is apprehended for having just stolen the silver from a priest who showed him kindness. Already a law-breaker, Valjean is told that this new crime will send him back to prison for good. Everything comes down to the priest, who in a moment of sheer grace, says that he had given the silver to Valjean and that he is upset with him because he failed to also take the candlesticks. In effect, the priest saves Valjean’s life. Costly grace changes everything.

 

A year and a half ago when I was in Rwanda, a beautiful seventeen year old survivor of the 1994 genocide told me a secret. Rain pelted the tin roof so loudly that I had to lean in to hear what Joy had to say. In a near whisper Joy said, “Forgiveness is a gift one gives to change the heart of the offender.” This profound truth came from a young lady who had forgiven the neighbors who brutally murdered her own father with machetes.

 

Forgiveness is a gift. It is not something one can deserve or earn. Like all gifts it costs the one who offers it more than the one who receives it. I believe that the extreme costliness of forgiveness has the power to call forth something from the receiver. And because the gift is so extravagant, so undeserved, so lavish, of all gifts it is most able to mirror the divine nature of self-giving love.

 

At Christmastime we sing of, “Peace on earth, goodwill to men.” Peace is not simply the absence of war. It is the wholeness of all things. Where there is brokenness, where there is bitterness, where there is unconfessed wrong, there is no peace. As members of Christ’s kingdom, we can extend the reign of peace on earth if we are willing to imitate our Heavenly Father in His costly grace.

 

Most likely there are many people on your Christmas list this year. But chances are that the person who most needs a gift from you is a person who is not on your list. This is a person who has wronged you, who has hurt you, or who has unjustly treated you. You might think of him or her as an enemy. More likely, you simply try not to think of this person.

 

No one can force you to give the gift of forgiveness to this person. If someone could, it wouldn’t be a gift. But perhaps at some point you’ve longed to be more like Christ. Perhaps at some point you’ve prayed for “peace on earth.” There are no guarantees your gift will be accepted. After all, to accept the gift of forgiveness is to accept the implicit accusation that a wrong has been committed. Sometimes people reject the gifts we give. Sometimes they despise them. But sometimes, a gift changes everything. Sometimes a gift makes us want to be a different person because of it. Sometimes a gift calls us to be more than who we are.

Catherine Claire Larson is a Senior Writer and Editor for BreakPoint. Her first book, As We Forgive: Stories of Reconciliation from Rwanda will be released this February with Zondervan. To find out more, visit www.asweforgivebook.com and pre-order your copy here.

Comments

[Mark Upton]

Catherine,
Once again I benefit from your profound wisdom and courageous life. Since reading John Smed's chapter on Forgiving Debtors in his Kingdom Prayer series I've been asking people to pray for me as I need to learn to delight in forgiving the unrepentant. Your piece gives me something helpful to chew on. You're my new email quote.

[Catherine]

Thanks for your encouragement, Mark. I think truly "delighting" is hard for all of us. I've tried hard to offer some practical helps for all of us who deal or will deal with this in my book. One interesting read for you though, might be Dr. Everett Worthington's Handbook of Forgiveness. He is both a Christian and a true leading expert. He offers some of the practical counselor's advice that can move these kinds of truths from head to heart to hands. All the best!

[Leigh McLeroy]

Catherine, thank you for this beautiful post. You write so well...and weave distinct stories together for a richer, stronger whole. I am thinking now of who I need to "gift" with forgiveness this Christmas, because your words have compelled me. Blessings to you in this holy season.