Forgiveness in Christian preaching centers on releasing resentment and extending grace as God does to us, fostering reconciliation and peace among believers (Ephesians 4:32). Illustrations often depict forgiveness as a transformative act—like forgetting offenses, softening enemies, or offering fragrant grace after injury—that requires humility, continual commitment, and a willingness to overcome bitterness and jealousy (Colossians 3:13).
True access to God through Christ is experienced deeply in affliction and forgiveness.
The origin of Dr. Owen's great practical work on the Forgiveness of Sin, or
Psalm 130, was related by the doctor in the following circumstances:
A young man, who afterwards became a minister, being under serious impressions, came to him for counsel. In the course of conversation the doctor asked,
"Pray, in what manner do you think to go to God?" "Through the Mediator, sir," said the young man. To which Dr.
Owen replied, "That is easily said; but it is another thing to go to God through the Mediator than what many who use the expression are aware of. I myself preached some years when I had but very little if any experimental acquaintance with access to God through Christ, until the Lord was pleased to visit me with sore affliction, by which I was brought to the mouth of the grave, and under which my soul was oppressed with horror and darkness. But God graciously relieved my spirit by a powerful application of Psalm cxxx. 4,
'There is forgiveness with thee that thou mayest be feared;' from whence I received special instruction, peace and comfort in drawing near to God through the Mediator, and I preached thereupon after my recovery."
None who seriously and prayerfully read this treatise will fail to discover the grounds and the appropriateness of the above appeal to an inquiring youth, the rich sources from which the author has drawn divine instruction, and its adaptation to the wants of every perishing soul.
Repenting anger and humility can reconcile even stubborn disputes between believers.
John, patriarch of Alexandria, had a controversy with Nicetas, a chief man of that city, which was to be decided in a court of justice. John defended the cause of the poor, and Nicetas refused to part with his money. A private meeting was held, to see if the affair could be adjusted, but in vain; angry words prevailed, and both parties were so obstinate that they separated more offended with each other than before. When Nicetas was gone, John began to reflect on his own pertinacity, and although his cause was good, "Yet," said he, "can I think that God will be pleased with this anger and stubbornness? The night draweth on, and shall I suffer the sun to go down upon my wrath? This is impious, and opposed to the apostle's advice." He therefore sent some respectable friends to Nicetas, and charged them to deliver this message to him, and no more: "O sir, the sun is going down!" Nicetas was much affected, his eyes were filled with tears; he hastened to the patriarch, and, saluting him in the most gentle manner, exclaimed, "Father, I will be ruled by you in this or any other matter." They embraced each other affectionately, and settled the dispute instantly.
Resolving anger before day's end restores fellowship and prevents lasting offense.
Two good men on some occasion had a warm dispute; and remembering the exhortation of the apostle, "Let not the sun go down upon your wrath," just before sunset one of them went to the other, and knocking at the door, his offended friend came and opened it, and seeing who it was, started back in astonishment and surprise; the other, at the same time, cried out, "The sun is almost down." This unexpected salutation softened the heart of his friend into affection, and he returned for answer, "Come in, brother, come in." What a happy method of conciliating matters, of redressing grievances, and of reconciling brethren!
Mercy and forgiveness restore the debtor, inspiring gratitude and repayment.
One Reuben Rouzy, of Virginia, owed the general about one thousand pounds. While President of the United States, one of his agents brought an action for the money; judgment was obtained, and execution issued against the body of the defendant, who was taken to jail. He had a considerable landed estate, but this kind of property cannot be sold in Virginia for debts unless at the discretion of the person. He had a large family, and for the sake of his children preferred lying in jail to selling his land. A friend hinted to him that probably General Washington did not know any thing of the proceeding, and that it might be well to send him a petition, with a statement of the circumstances. He did so, and the very next post from Philadelphia after the arrival of his petition in that city brought him an order for his immediate release, together with a full discharge, and a severe reprimand to the agent for having acted in such a manner. Poor Rouzy was, in consequence, restored to his family, who never laid down their heads at night without presenting prayers to Heaven for their "beloved Washington." Providence smiled upon the labors of the grateful family, and in a few years Rouzy enjoyed the exquisite pleasure of being able to lay the one thousand pounds, with the interest, at the feet of this truly great man. Washington reminded him that the debt was discharged; Rouzy replied, the debt of his family to the father of their country and preserver of their parent could never be discharged; and the general, to avoid the pressing importunity of the grateful Virginian, who would not be denied, accepted the money, only, however, to divide it among Rouzy's children, which he immediately did.
Christlike humility and forgiveness can soften even a harsh, angry heart.
A man of my acquaintance, says Dr. Dwight, who was of a vehement and rigid temper, had, many years since, a dispute with a friend of his, a professor of religion, and had been injured by him. With strong feelings of resentment, he made him a visit, for the avowed purpose of quarrelling with him. He accordingly stated the nature and extent of the injury; and was preparing, as he afterwards confessed, to load him with a train of severe reproaches, when his friend cut him short by acknowledging, with the utmost readiness and frankness, the injustice of which he had been guilty; expressing his own regret for the wrong he had done, requesting his forgiveness, and proffering him ample compensation. He was compelled to say that he was satisfied, and withdrew, full of mortification that he had been precluded from venting his indignation, and wounding his friend with keen and violent reproaches for his conduct. As he was walking homeward, he said to himself to this effect: "There must be something more in religion than I have hitherto suspected. Were any man to address me in the tone of haughtiness and provocation with which I accosted my friend this morning, it would be impossible for me to preserve the equanimity of which I have been a witness, and especially with so much frankness, humility, and meekness, to acknowledge the wrong which I had done; so readily ask forgiveness of the man whom I had injured; and so cheerfully promise a satisfactory recompense. I should have met his anger with at least equal resentment, paid him reproach for reproach, and inflicted wound for wound. There is something in this man's disposition which is not in mine. There is something in the religion which he professes, and which I am forced to believe he feels; something which makes him so superior, so much better, so much more amiable, than I can pretend to be. The subject strikes me in a manner to which I have hitherto been a stranger. It is high time to examine it more thoroughly, with more candor, and with greater solicitude also, than I have done hitherto."
From this incident a train of thoughts and emotions commenced in the mind of this man which terminated in his profession of the Christian religion, his relinquishment of the business in which he was engaged, and his consecration of himself to the ministry of the gospel."
Rev. Brown forgave and helped his enemies, showing Christlike love and grace.
The Rev. Mr. Brown of Haddington manifested a singular readiness to forgive his enemies. Notwithstanding the abuse he received from some ministers, when a student, it was remarked, that he was never heard to speak evil of them, nor so much as to mention the affair. A dissenting clergyman, who had used him rudely, being reduced to poverty, he sent him money, and in a way which concealed the benefactor. After the clergyman's decease, he offered to take one of his destitute orphans, and bring him up with his own children. To certain writers who reviled him from the press, he meekly replied, "But now that the fact is committed, instead of intending to resent the injury these reverend brethren have done me, I reckon myself, on account thereof, so much the more effectually obliged, by the Christian law, to contribute my utmost endeavors towards the advancement of their welfare, spiritual or temporal, and am resolved, through grace, to discharge these obligations, as Providence gives me opportunity, for the same. Let them do to, or with me, what they will, may their portion be redemption through the blood of Jesus, even the forgiveness of sins according to the riches of his grace; and call me what they please, may the Lord call them, "The holy people, the redeemed of the Lord."
# 157. Praying for Enemies.
Mr. Burkitt prayed especially for those who injured him, exemplifying forgiveness in prayer.
Mr. Burkitt observes in his journal, that some persons would never have had a particular share in his prayers but for the injuries they had done him.
A slave prayed for his cruel master, leading to the master's repentance and change.
HEARD.—A wealthy planter in the South who had a great number of slaves, found one of them reading the Bible, and reproved him for the neglect of his work, saying there was time enough on Sundays for reading the Bible, and that on other days he ought to be in the tobacco house. The slave repeating the offence, he ordered him to be whipped. Going near the place of punishment, soon after its infliction, curiosity led him to listen to a voice engaged in prayer; and he heard the poor black implore the Almighty to forgive the injustice of his master, to touch his heart with a sense of his sin and to make him a good Christian. Struck with remorse, he made an immediate change in his life, which had been careless and dissipated, burnt his profane books and cards, liberated all his slaves, and appeared now to study how to render his wealth and talents useful to others.
# 158. Examples among the Heathen.
Pericles shows patience and kindness by escorting his enemy home at night.
Pericles was of so patient a spirit, that he was hardly ever troubled with any thing that crossed him. There was a man who did nothing all the day but rail at him in the market-place, before all the people, notwithstanding Pericles was a magistrate. Pericles, however, took no notice of it, but, despatching sundry cases of importance till night came, he went home with a sober pace. The man followed him all the way, defaming him as he went. Pericles, when he came home, it being dark, called his man, and desired him to get a torch and light the fellow home.
Caesar controlled anger by reciting the alphabet before responding to provocation.
EXAMPLE OF CÆSAR.—It is said of Julius Cæsar, that upon any provocation, he would repeat the Roman alphabet before he suffered himself to speak, that he might be more just and calm in his resentments; and, further, that he could forget nothing but wrongs and remember nothing but benefits.
Emperor Adrian pardoned an insult, exemplifying noble forgiveness over revenge.
It is commonly said, that "Revenge is sweet;" but it can only be so to those weak minds that are incapable of bearing an injury. An elevated mind is superior to injuries, and pardons them. The Emperor Adrian, meeting a man who had insulted him before he came to the government, said to him, "Approach, you have nothing to fear; I am an emperor." This is an example well worthy of being imitated by those who are called to return good for evil.
Socrates taught not to return injury, reflecting Christian moral teaching.
Socrates, who was as pure a teacher of morals and as near like a true Christian as any of the ancient heathen, says, "The person who has received an injury must not return it, as is the opinion of the vulgar."
Phocion urged his son to forgive persecutors, guided by conscience and God's law.
Phocion was an Athenian, born some four hundred years n. c., and one of the most upright and benevolent heathen that ever lived. Yet he was condemned to die as a criminal, and denied even a grave in the country to which he had devoted his life. What could be more unjust in the Athenians, than putting their public benefactor to death in such a way as this? They sadly repented their madness afterwards, put the accuser to death, and erected a statue to Phocion's memory. But when Phocion had taken the poison which he was condemned to drink, and was about to die, "he charged his son, with his last breath, that he should show no resentment against his persecutors."
What taught him to feel such forbearance and kindness towards those who had so wickedly wronged him? The voice of conscience—the law God hath written on the heart.
Slaves rescued and later freed their cruel mistress, showing unexpected loyalty and mercy.
When the Romans besieged Grumentum in Lucania, and the city was reduced to the last extremity, two slaves escaped into the camp of the besiegers. The place was soon afterwards taken by storm, and plundered. The two slaves then ran to the house of their mistress, whom they seized with a kind of violence, and carried off. When they were asked who she was, they answered, she was their mistress, and a most cruel mistress; upon whom they were going to take revenge for all the barbarous treatment they had suffered from her. In this way they compelled her to quit the city, and conveyed her to a safe retreat, where they concealed her with great care; and when the fury of the soldiers was abated, and tranquillity was restored in the city, they brought her back to her house, and obeyed her as before. She gave them their liberty, which was the greatest reward in her power to bestow; but certainly far short of the services they had rendered her.
Livia advised Augustus to forgive his conspirator, promoting mercy over severity.
The Emperor Augustus being informed of a conspiracy against his life, headed by Lucius Cinna, was at first moved by resentment to resolve upon the cruellest punishment. But reflecting afterwards that Cinna was a young man of an illustrious family, and nephew to the great Pompey, he broke out into bitter fits of passion. "Why live I, if it be for the god of mercy that I should die? Must there be no end of my cruelties? Is my life of so great a value, that oceans of blood must be shed to preserve it?" His wife Livia, finding him in this perplexity, "Will you take a woman's counsel?" said she. "Imitate the physicians, who, when ordinary remedies fail, make trial of what are extraordinary. By severity you have prevailed nothing. Lepidus has followed Saviocinus; Murena, Lepidus; Cœpio, Murena; and Egnatius, Cœpio. Begin now, and try whether sweetness and clemency may not succeed. Cinna is detected. Forgive him; he will never henceforth have the heart to hurt thee, and it will be an act of glory." Augustus was a man of sense; and calling Cinna to a private conference, he spoke as follows: "Thou knowest, Cinna, that having joined my enemies, I gave thee thy life, restored thee all thy goods, and advanced thy fortune equally with the best of those who had always been my friends. The sacerdotal office I conferred upon thee, after having denied it to others who had borne arms in my service. And yet after so many obligations, thou hast undertaken to murder me." Seeing Cinna astonished and silent with the consciousness of guilt, Augustus went on as follows: "Well, Cinna, go thy way; I again give thee that life as a traitor, which I gave thee before as an enemy. Let friendship from this time forward commence betwixt us; and let us make it appear whether thou hast received thy life, or I have given it, with the better faith." Some time after, he preferred Cinna to the cosular dignity, complaining of him that he had not resolution to solicit it. Their friendship continued uninterrupted till the death of Cinna; who, in token of his gratitude, appointed Augustus to be his sole heir. And it is remarkable, that Augustus reaped the due reward of a clemency so generous and exemplary; for from that time there never was the slightest conspiracy or attempt against him.
# MOTIVES FOR LOVE TO ENEMIES.
159. It often checks and reforms them.
Choosing peace over revenge prevents lasting enmity between neighbors.
A man in New Jersey told me the following circumstances respecting himself and one of his neighbors:—
"I once owned a large flock of hens.
I generally kept them shut up. But, one spring, I concluded to let them run in my yard, after I had clipped their wings, so they could not fly. One day, when I came home to dinner, I learned that one of my neighbors had been there, full of wrath, to let me know my hens had been in his garden, and that he had killed several of them, and thrown them over into my yard. I was greaty enraged because he had killed my beautiful hens, that I valued so much.
I determined, at once, to be revenged, to sue him, or in some way get redress.
I sat down and ate my dinner, as calmly as I could. By the time I had finished my meal, I became more cool, and thought that perhaps it was not best to fight with my neighbor about hens, and thereby make him my bitter, lasting enemy. I concluded to try another way, being sure that it would do better.
"After dinner, I went to my neighbor's. He was in his garden. I went out, and found him in pursuit of one of my hens with a club, trying to kill it. I accosted him. He turned upon me, his face inflamed with wrath, and broke out in a great fury—
"You have abused me. I will kill all your hens, if I can get at them. I never was so abused. My garden is ruined."
"I am very sorry for it," said I. "I did not wish to injure you, and now see that I have made a great mistake in letting out my hens. I ask your forgiveness, and am willing to pay you six times the damage."
"The man seemed confounded. He did not know what to make of it. He looked up to the sky—then down to the earth—then at his neighbor—then at his club—and then at the poor hen he had been pursuing, and said nothing.
"Tell me, now," said I, "what is the damage, and I will pay you six-fold; and my hens shall trouble you no more. I will leave it entirely to you to say what I shall do. I cannot afford to lose the love and good will of my neighbors, and quarrel with them, for hens, or any thing else."
"I am a great fool," said the neighbor. "The damage is not worth talking about; and I have more need to compensate you than you me, and to ask your forgiveness than you mine."
Malice harms what it targets, showing the futility of revenge.
A gentleman had a garden, in which he took great delight. It was surrounded by the cottages of his tenants and laborers, to whom he justly looked as the protectors of his property, and felt secure, inasmuch as no person could approach his premises but through theirs.
He had for some days watched the progress of a fine bed of tulips. "To-morrow," said he, "they will be in full perfection," and he invited a company of friends to witness the display of their beauties. In the morning he hastened to the spot; but to his utter astonishment, the whole bed was a scene of shrivelled desolation. Some unaccountable influence had withered every stem, and each flower lay prostrate and fading on the ground.
A short time afterwards, a bed of ranunculuses shared the same fate; and in succession several other choice and favorite productions. At length, the gentleman became persuaded that the destruction did not proceed from any natural cause, such as blight or lightning, but that it must have been occasioned by the intentional mischief of some treacherous and malignant individual who had access to the grounds.
He resolved therefore to watch, and engaged a friend to accompany him for that purpose. After remaining in their station some time, they saw a person come out of one of the cottages, and apply some destructive preparation to the roots of such flowers as were advancing to blossom. The gentleman at once recognized him as a workman whom a few weeks before he had had occasion to reprove, and who thus malignantly gratified his resentment. His friend strongly urged that the offender should be prosecuted, and offered to bear witness against him. But the proprietor replied, "No; I am much obliged by your kindness in remaining with me; I have ascertained the author of the mischief, and am satisfied; I must use another method of dealing with him."
In the morning, the gentleman ordered his servant to purchase a fine joint of meat, and carry it to the cottage of this man, desiring he would enjoy it with his family. This treatment, so contrary to his deserts and expectations, proved the means of effectually humbling and softening his stubborn and malignant heart. The offender presented himself before his injured master, freely confessed his guilt, implored forgiveness, and proved, from that day forward, a most faithful, diligent, and devoted servant. "If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good."
Kindness and forgiveness to enemies can awaken conscience and lead to repentance.
Kindness and forgiveness to those who insult and abuse us, is often the means, in the hands of God, of making them Christians. You exhibit religion before them in a most attractive and engaging form, if you are known as one of its professors. Besides, when by treating an enemy in this way you have roused his conscience, and led him to feel shame and contrition for what he has done to you, it is natural at such a time that his excited conscience should turn on his sins towards God, and lead him to repentance.
The Holy Spirit, I doubt not, often avails itself of this softened state of the heart, to break it down into penitence before God.
As some rude and irreligious sailors were at work calking a vessel in a certain harbor, they noticed, at a little distance, a very aged and exemplary Christian quietly engaged in his business. He was noted for his generous, peaceful, forgiving disposition.
One sailor says to another, "You can't make that old man angry by any offence you can offer him."
The sailor who was addressed, at once accepted the challenge. He snatched up the bucket of tar that stood by him, ran up to the old man, and very unexpectedly dashed its contents upon him.
He looked up at the sailor with surprise at this wanton and unprovoked act of malignity, and said to him in a mild voice, "Young man, the Savior says, 'Whoso shall offend one of these little ones that believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck and that he were cast into the depths of the sea.' Now if I am one of these little ones, you have very much offended me."
The young sailor turned away perplexed and chagrined at the spirit the injured saint exhibited. He felt convinced that the man's religion was of a more sublime, noble and vital character than he had usually thought the Christian religion to be. He came back to his companions confessing that the old man had triumphed.
The image of the old man bearing the marks of his abuse, and looking with so much mingled pity and displeasure at him, was painted indelibly upon his memory. He was gone, but the sailor seemed to see him still! And that mild, but terrible reproof, too, the language still rung in his ear. The more he thought of the old man, the more he thought of the power and beauty of religion. The more he thought of himself, the more ashamed and miserable did he feel. The entire wickedness of his heart and life seemed to come under the review of conscience also. His distress became insupportable.
Some time afterwards he went to see the old man whom he had so wickedly treated; he asked him to forgive him, and to pray for him too. He was very ready to do both; and not long after, if I remember right, the sailor became a hopeful Christian.
There is reason to believe that many sinners might be converted from the error of their ways, if they should meet such a spirit as the sailor did in every professed Christian whom they might insult or abuse.
# 162. Miscellaneous.
A nephew repays his uncle's withheld inheritance with interest after inheritance.
A farmer in Bucks County, Penn., died and left his farm, stock, &c. to one of his sons: to the other, who had offended him, he bequeathed £600. Notwithstanding the utmost efforts of the poorer brother, he found himself unable to obtain the £600 from his more wealthy brother, and with a family, he was obliged to struggle through life without getting any portion of the money left him by the will of his father. At length the wealthy brother died, and the property fell to an only son. So soon as he got possession of the property, he ascertained the amount of the legacy bequeathed by his grandfather to his uncle; he then added the interest which had accrued all the time the legacy had been withheld, and for the whole amount he forthwith sent a check to his uncle.
A man nursing revenge against a preacher eventually lets go of anger over time.
Says General P. of Virginia, "When I was a young man I went to hear Mr. Lee preach at — meeting-house. There was a very large crowd in attendance, and a great many could not get into the house. Among others I got near the door, and being fond of show and frolic, I indulged in some indiscretion, for which Mr. Lee mildly but plainly reproved me. In an instant all the bad feelings of my heart were aroused. I was deeply insulted, and felt that my whole family was disgraced. I retired from the crowd to brood over the insult, and meditate revenge. It was not long before I resolved to whip him before he left the ground.
I kept the resolution to myself; and watched with the eager intensity of resentment, the opportunity to put it in execution. But the congregation was dismissed and dispersed, and I saw nothing of the preacher. How he escaped me I could never learn. But I
'nursed my wrath to keep it warm;'
and cherished the determination to put it into execution the first time I saw
Mr. Lee, although long years should intervene. Gradually, however, my feelings subsided; and in the lapse of a few years the whole affair faded away from my mind. Thirteen years passed over me, and the impetuosity of youth had been softened down by sober manhood. I was standing upon the downhill of life!
On a beautiful morning in the early spring, being from home on business, I saw, a few hundred yards before me, an elderly looking man jogging slowly along in a single gig. As soon as I saw him, it struck me, that's Jesse Lee.
The name, the man, the sight of him, recalled all my recollections of the insult, and all my purposes of resentment.
I strove to banish them all from my mind. But the more I thought the warmer I became. My resolution stared me in the face; and something whispered coward in my heart if I failed to fulfil it. My mind was in a perfect tumult, and my passions waxed strong.
I determined to execute my resolution to the utmost; and full of rage I spurred my horse, and was soon at the side of the man that I felt of all others I hated most. I accosted him rather rudely with the question, "Are you not a Methodist preacher?" "I pass for one," was the reply, and in a manner that struck me as very meek. "Ain't your name Jesse Lee?" "Yes: that's my name." "Do you recollect preaching in the year — at — meeting, house?" "Yes; very well." "Well, do you recollect reproving a young man for some misbehavior?" After a short pause for recollection, he replied, "I do." "Well," said I, "I am that young man; and I determined I would whip you for it the first time I saw you. I have never seen you from that day to this; and now I intend to carry out my purpose."
As soon as I had finished speaking, the old man stopped his horse, and looking me full in the face, said, "You are a younger man than I am. You are strong and active; and I am old and feeble. I have no doubt but, if I were disposed to fight, you could whip me very easily; and it would be useless for me to resist. But as a man of God I must not strive! So as you are determined to whip me, if you will just wait, I will get out of my gig, and get down on my knees, and you may whip me as long as you please." "Never," said the old general, "was I so suddenly and powerfully affected. I was completely overcome. I trembled from head to foot. I would have given my estate if I had never mentioned the subject. A strange weakness came over my frame. I felt sick at heart, ashamed, mortified and degraded, I struck my spurs into my horse, and dashed along the road with the speed of a madman. I am now old; few and full of evil have been the days of the years of my life, yet I am not without hope in God. I have made my peace with him who is the 'judge of the quick and dead;' and hope ere long to see that good man of God with feelings very different from those with which I met him last."
Henry Wright responds to assault with calmness and forgiveness, transforming his attacker.
The following incident in the life of Henry C. Wright shows his admirable consistency, and the salutary influence of non-resistance on the offender. He was in a hotel in Philadelphia, and there engaged in a conversation on non-resistance. An officer present became enraged and struck him. Mr. Wright took no notice of the assault, but proceeded with his remarks. In a few moments the officer struck him again. Friend Wright still preserved his equanimity, and continued the conversation. His assailant struck him a third time, and nearly knocked him down. He recovered himself, and though much injured by the blows of his opponent, took him by the hand and said, "I feel no unkindness towards you, and hope soon to see you at my house." He then left the company and returned home. Mr. Wright saw his assailant much sooner than he expected, for he was called up at dawn next morning, by the very man who had struck him the previous evening. He exclaimed, as he entered the house, "Can you forgive me? I have been in agony all night. I thought you would strike again, or I never should have struck you." "He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city."
A Methodist minister practices non-resistance by giving a robber money to prevent crime.
RESISTANT.—The Rev. John Pomphret, an English Methodist minister, always advocated the practical applicability of the "peace doctrine,"—"If a man will sue thee at law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also; and if he compel thee to go with him a mile, go with him twain,"—always declaring that if he should be attacked by a highwayman, he should put it in practice. Being a cheesemonger, (he preached without wages,) on his return from market one day, after he had received a large amount of money from his customers for the purpose of replenishing his year's stock, he was accosted by a robber, demanding his money, and threatening his life if he refused. The reverend peace-man coolly and kindly replied, "Well, friend, how much do you want, for I will give it to you, and thus save you from the crime of committing highway robbery?" "Will you certainly give me what I require?" asked the robber. "I will, in truth, if you do not require more than I have got," replied the non-resistant. "Then I want fifteen pounds," (about seventy-five dollars.) The required sum was counted out to him, and in gold, instead of in bank-bills, which, if the numbers had been observed, the reverend father, by notifying the bank, could have rendered uncurrent, besides leaving the robber liable to detection in attempting to pass them, telling him at the same time why he gave the gold instead of bank-notes; and saying, "Unfortunate man, I make you welcome to this sum. Go home. Pay your debts.
Hereafter, get your living honestly."
Years rolled on. At length the good preacher received a letter, containing principal and interest, and a humble confession of his sins, from the robber, saying that his appeals waked up his slumbering conscience, which had given him no rest till he had made both restitution and confession, besides wholly changing his course of life.
# 293. Transforms Aggressors into Friends.
A hatter endures threats from an alcoholic worker without retaliation or anger.
When I was in the hatting business, says Mr. Hanchett, I employed a man by the name of Jonas Pike, from Massachusetts, who was a most excellent workman in the manufacture of hats.
But he was one of that kind of journeymen who would have their trains, as they were familiarly called amongst us in that day. Therefore, as a natural consequence, he was without comfortable clothing the most of the time. After he got a shop he would work very industriously until he had earned from twenty to thirty, and sometimes forty dollars worth of clothing; (for he was always in want of clothing when he commenced work;) and then he would get on one of his trains, and dispose of every article of his clothing that would fetch six cents, expending all for whisky. When all was gone, and he began to cool off a little, he would be very ugly; sometimes he would fret and scold, and then he would coax and plead, to have me trust him a hat or something else, that he might sell, and thereby get more whisky. When I refused him, he would become very angry and threaten to whip me, which I told him he might do as soon as he pleased. But said he, "I will not do it in your own shop; if I had you out of doors I would thrash you like a sack."
After hearing him repeat these sayings several times, I walked out at the door. I then spoke to him, saying, "I am now out of the shop, thou canst whip me if thou wishest to do so very much;" at which he stepped out of the shop, came furiously towards me, squaring himself for a box, and struck me a blow on the breast, at which I put my hand upon my cheek, and held it down to him, saying, "Now strike here, Jonas." He now looked at me with surprise and astonishment, then turning round, saying at the same time, with an oath, "If you will not fight, I will let you alone," he went into the shop, sat down and was quiet. He got sober and went to work, and ever after was affectionate and kind, and very peaceable with me. I employed him several times afterwards to work for me, and he was always very peaceable and obliging.
Praying together softens a man's heart and removes his grievance against a brother.
A person came to Mr. Longdon one day and said, "I have something against you, and I am come to tell you of it." "Do walk in, sir," he replied; "you are my best friend: if I could but engage my friends to be faithful with me, I should be sure to prosper; but, if you please, we will both pray in the first place, and ask the blessing of God upon our interview." After they rose from their knees, and had been much blessed together, he said, "Now I will thank you, my brother, to tell me what it is that you have against me." "Oh," said the man, "I really don't know what it is; it is all gone, and I believe I was in the wrong."
# PRAYER ANSWERED.
331. Prayer Answered by God's Providential Control of Material and Animal Agencies.
Kindness disarms anger and stops conflict between brothers.
These boys lived in Rhode Island, and were brothers. One cold day, when the ground was frozen, they were out driving a hoop. Both boys were following and driving the same hoop. This is rather dangerous, as the boys, running one behind the other, and both driving the same hoop, are liable to run on to each other, and fall. As they were driving their hoop down the street, running as fast as they could, Gerald, the younger, being behind, Thomas hit his foot against a stone, and fell headlong upon the frozen ground — coming down with violence upon his bare hands and face. Gerald, being close behind, and running fast, could not stop, but came down with his whole weight on Thomas. This hurt Thomas still worse. He was angry at Gerald for falling on him. They both rose. Thomas, in his wrath, began to scold and storm at his brother, and beat him. What did Gerald do? Did he cry out, and strike back? He did no such thing. He put his hand into his pocket hurriedly, fumbled about, and soon drew out a stick of candy, and thrust it into his brother's mouth, as he was scolding and beating him. Thomas instantly stopped, and looked confused and ashamed. His brother urged him to take the candy. He took it and began to eat—sorry enough that he had struck his affectionate and generous brother.
Thus his wrath was disarmed, and his blows stayed, by the love and kindness of his gentle-hearted brother.
A stick of candy is a better weapon to fight with, and more sure to gain a victory, than a stick of wood, or a fist.
Responding to false accusations with silence and forgiveness can restore relationships.
A clergyman in New-York state, in early life, had engaged in business which led him to buy a good deal of coal; and after he became a minister of the Gospel, two of his members, who were making a bargain respecting a load of coal, agreed to leave it to their minister to decide how much the load contained. He accordingly acceded to their request, and told them how much it contained, or how to find out the amount it contained, by the law of the state. The member who wished to buy, was well pleased; the one who wished to sell, was quite dissatisfied. After the minister left them, the former came to see him, and stated that the brother who sold the coal had just said—that he did not believe what his minister had stated; that if he was a minister, he was not too good to lie, &c. The Rev. Mr. S., in the first place, felt deeply wounded, and strongly inclined to go and give the rash and unkind brother a severe rebuke. But on reflecting a moment, he replied to his informant, "I presume Brother — does not really think so;" and under that conviction he determined to take no notice of it, and treat the brother's offence with silence. The offender came afterwards to see his pastor; and his uneasy and anxious appearance seemed to say—"I wish you would call me to account for my expressions against you;" but the pastor studiously avoided all reference to them. And now, as if to appease his own conscience, the offender, who before had been quite indifferent to his minister, began to load him with his kindnesses, and became one of his warmest friends.
Pardon is an act of mercy, not justice, shown by Napoleon forgiving a condemned man.
A French girl, casting herself at Napoleon’s feet, cried: “Pardon, pardon, for my father!” “And who is your father?” asked Napoleon, “and who are you?” “My name is Lopolia,” she said, and with flowing tears added, “my father is doomed to die.” “Ah, young lady,” replied Napoleon, “I can do nothing for you. It is the second time your father has been found guilty of treason.” “Alas!” exclaimed the poor girl, “I know it, but I do not ask for justice; I implore pardon.” After a momentary struggle of feeling, Napoleon gently took the hand of the young woman and said: “Well, my child, for your sake, I will pardon your father. That is enough. Now leave me.”
A royal pardon frees a condemned man, illustrating God's grace freeing sinners.
A man was being tried for a crime, the punishment of which was death. The witnesses came in one by one and testified to his guilt. But there he stood, calm and unmoved. The judge and jury were surprised at his indifference, and did not understand how he could take such a serious matter so calmly. When the jury returned the verdict was “guilty,” and when the judge passed sentence upon him, he told the criminal how surprised he was that he could be so unmoved in the prospect of death. When the judge had finished, the man drew a document from his bosom and walked out of the dock, a free man. The document was a pardon from the king and the prisoner was a free man.
Christ’s work enables believers to forgive even cruel treatment.
While a heathen tyrant was cruelly beating a Christian, he said, “What great matter did Christ ever do for you?” “Even this,” replied the Christian, “that I can forgive you though you use me so cruelly.”
A mother's unconditional love draws her repentant daughter back home.
A mother, whose daughter had behaved very badly, and at length had run away from home, thought of a singular plan in order to find the wanderer. The mother had her own portrait fixed on a large handbill and posted where she supposed her daughter to be concealed. The portrait, without name, had these words: “I love thee always.” Crowds stopped before the strange handbill, trying to guess its meaning. Days elapsed, when a young girl at last passed by, and in her turn lifted her eyes to the singular notice. “Can it be? Yes, truly it is the picture of my mother. Those eyes, full of tenderness, I know from childhood. Why is it here?” She approaches nearer and reads: “I love thee still.” She understood that this was a message for her. Her mother loved her, pardoned her. Never had she felt her sin and ingratitude so deeply. She set out for home; at last she crosses the threshold and is in her mother’s arms. “My child!” cried the mother, as she presses her repentant daughter to her heart, “I have never ceased to love thee.”
The cross reminds us to forgive enemies, following Christ’s example of mercy.
Louis XII., of Prance, had many enemies before he ascended the throne. When he became king he caused a list to be made of his persecutors, and marked against each of their names a large black cross. When this became known his enemies fled, because they thought it was a sign that he intended to punish them. But the King caused them to be recalled, with an assurance of pardon, and said that he had put a cross beside each name to remind him of the cross of Christ, that he might endeavor to follow the example of Him who prayed for His foes, “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.”
Meekness and forgiveness can convict offenders more than retaliation.
Walter Raleigh, a man of courage, was insulted by a hot-headed youth, who challenged him, and, on his refusal, spat upon him in public. The knight, taking out his handkerchief, made him this reply: “Young man, if I could as easily wipe your blood from my conscience as I can this injury from my face, I would this moment take away your life.” The youth was struck with a strong sense of his error.
Christians should love others despite their faults, just as Jesus does.
”Is she a Christian?” asked a missionary in the East of one of the converts who was speaking unkindly of a third party. “Yes, I think she is,” was the reply. “Well, then, since Jesus loves her in spite of that, why is it that you can’t?”
A dying sinner trusted God’s forgiveness after experiencing human forgiveness and compassion.
A fallen girl of New York, called Wild Maggie, had frequently attended the services of the city missions, and the superintendent had obtained considerable influence over her. After being missed for some time, he heard that she was in the hospital, dying of consumption. He visited her several times, to her great joy. The last time, a little before her death, both conversed as if they should see each other no more. “I’m dying!” she said. “Would you—be willing to stoop down and kiss my forehead?” “Most certainly, my child,” was the reply; and he reverently kissed the face of the dying girl. “Thank God!” said she; “if men on earth can so forgive, why should I not trust my Father which is in Heaven?”
Forgiveness triumphs over revenge, showing mercy even to those who harmed us deeply.
A young girl in South Africa was seized by a savage enemy of her father’s, who cut off both her hands, and then sent her, bleeding, home. Many years passed; the poor girl recovered from her wounds. One day, there came to her father’s door a poor man who asked for alms. The girl knew him at once as the cruel man who had cut off her hands. She went into the hut, ordered a servant to take him bread and milk, as much as he could eat; and sat down and watched him. When he had done, she dropped the covering that had hid her hand-less wrists from view, and, holding them up before him, uttered a sentence meaning) “I have had my revenge!”
Christ's forgiveness powerfully transforms even enemies, leading to faith in Him.
A Turkish grandee in Hungary made a Christian nobleman his prisoner, and treated him with the utmost barbarity. He was yoked with an ox, and compelled to drag the plough. But the fortune of war changed, and the Turk fell into the hands of the Hungarians. The Turk, supposing that he would be tortured to death, had already swallowed poison, when a messenger came from his former Christian slave, telling him to go in peace; he had nothing to fear. The Moslem was so impressed with this heavenly spirit, that he proclaimed with his dying breath, “I will not die a Moslem; but I die a Christian; for there is no religion but that of Christ which teaches forgiveness of injuries.”
Forgiveness requires bearing with others' faults, reflecting God's patience with us.
You have all heard of Abraham, who went out from his home in Ur of the Chaldees to find God. And you remember how he dwelt in tents, and had hundreds of cattle. And you know how good he was to his nephew, Lot. There is a story told about Abraham which you will not find in the Bible. Abraham received into his tent one day an aged traveler. After he had invited the traveler to dine with him at his sunset meal, Abraham went out to offer up his evening sacrifice to God. But the traveler would not join him in prayer and thanksgiving. Abraham was angry because of the old man's lack of religion, and drove him from his tent. Later in the evening the angel of the Lord appeared to Abraham and asked him why he had driven out the old man. Abraham replied: "Lord, he refused to acknowledge Thee!" The Lord replied: "What! I have borne with this old man for eighty years, and you could not bear with him for two days!" After that, so the story goes, Abraham helped everyone who came along, no matter what his religious belief might be. That is a good story for boys and girls to remember when they feel that they cannot forgive someone who has done them a wrong. What would become of you if God never forgave you when you did wrong? It is this spirit of forgiveness that Christ means to teach us when He says in the Lord's Prayer, "Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors." If, then, you say that prayer and refuse to forgive anyone who has done you a wrong, you mean that you want to have God act just as unforgiving with you as you are with your enemies. That would be terrible, -- to ask God not to forgive you. None of us would dare pray like that. You remember Peter came to Christ once and asked how often we were to forgive people. Peter thought seven times was enough. But Christ said, "No, you must forgive until seventy times seven." That would be four hundred and ninety times. Christ did not mean exactly that many times. But He meant more times than you can think. That is, if you are a follower of Christ you are to forgive a person as often as he is sorry for having done you a wrong, and comes to you and asks your forgiveness.
Former enemies honor each other's fallen soldiers, showing respect and reconciliation after war.
News of an international event of no little pathos comes from Port Arthur. Around the great fortress were buried thousands of Russians who fell in the siege, and whose graves were unmarked. The Russian Government asked permission to gather these remains in one place and erect a tomb for them which should be a suitable monument to their heroism. The Japanese Government replied by asking for permission to engage in this sad duty as a token of honor to the Russian dead. In this Russia readily acquiesced, and the tomb, which is of noble proportions and Etruscan in design, was recently dedicated. At these solemn services the old foes met once more. General Nogi, the hero of Port Arthur, was by special order of the Emperor the representative of Japan. Russia sent two generals and an admiral, who were supported by many Russian officers who had fought over that very ground. Regiments of Japanese troops stood on guard, as did also representatives of the Japanese navy. These latter, at the moment of unveiling, bore a worn and battle-torn flag to the tomb, and reverently lowered it as a tribute of respect. The religious ceremonies were in charge of the Bishop of Peking, of the Russian Church. (Text.)
We should give forgiveness, tolerance, love, respect, and charity to others appropriately.
Here is a short sermon by a woman, tho not preached from a pulpit. It is a good one, and is pretty sure to hit your own case somewhere, whatever may be your age and circumstances:
The best thing to give your enemy is forgiveness; to an opponent, tolerance; to a friend, your heart; to your child, a good example; to your father, deference; to your mother, conduct that will make her proud of you; to yourself, respect; to all men, charity.--_The Interior_.
Turning enemies into advocates shows the power of forgiveness and love.
Count Witte, Russian Prime Minister, summoned his secretary one day and gave him this order:
“Make out a full list of the authors of the articles that are directly against me in the daily press.”
The secretary went to work, and with the aid of his office force in a week prepared a list of about a thousand articles, with the writer’s names appended. The clippings were properly classified, put in an album, and dutifully handed to the Premier.
“In how many instances,” he asked, “have I been commended?”
“In three, your excellency.”
“Very well; now select the most abusive and personal of the unfavorable articles, and let me know the names of the writers.”
This list, too, was duly prepared and presented.
“Shall I bring this to the attention of the public prosecutor?” queried the secretary.
“For what purpose?”
“Why, to institute proceedings under the statutes regulating the press.”
“No, I do not wish it,” said the Premier. “I wish to select from these journalists my most aggressive critic and make him my advocate and spokesman. I shall offer him the editorship of my organ. Experience has taught me that the best champion and most faithful defender is the man who has been your bitterest assailant.” (Text.)
Choosing not to retaliate against insult is a blessing and an act of forbearance.
The speaker in the following account was Shang, a converted Manchurian missionary:
Over at the “Heavenly Lord Hall” (French mission) I was looking at the new building which is being erected. The boys’ school-teacher was with me. A Roman Catholic objected to our presence and struck us both. One of their principal members, seeing us insulted, blushed very red, and spoke to the offender. But we just came away.
“What would you like me to do?” I asked. “Shall I write to the French priest and complain?”
“Do nothing at all,” he replied. “Not to requite an insult is a blessing.” (Text.)
True forgiveness allows us to let go of bitterness and begin anew with love.
Alfred Austin, Poet Laureate of England, writes this verse on forgiveness:
Now bury with the dead years conflicts dead,
And with fresh days let all begin anew.
Why longer amid shriveled leaf-drifts tread,
When buds are swelling, flower-sheaths peeping through?
Seen through the vista of the vanished years,
How trivial seem the struggle and the crown,
How vain past feuds, when reconciling tears
Course down the channel worn by vanished frown.
How few mean half the bitterness they speak!
Words more than feelings keep us still apart,
And, in the heat of passion and of pique,
The tongue is far more cruel than the heart,
Since love alone makes it worth while to live,
Let all be now forgiven and forgive. (Text.)
--_The Independent._
A mother's silent love leads a child to confess and experience complete forgiveness.
* * * * *
In childhood you were guilty of your first deceit. At nightfall, with grieved face, your mother asked if you had disobeyed, and your lips uttered their first lie. Your father was a just man and stern, and he would have lifted the hand in indignation, and as a child you would have hardened your heart. But your mother, with all-comprehending and healing love, was wiser. She met the denial with silence. That night she was, if possible, more tender than ever. She lingered a little longer in the room of her little child. She smoothed the cool sheets with more delicate care, and stooping for the last kiss, she asked, “Is there anything more you want to tell me?” Then she went out and left you, with that lie, your first lie, to be your companion. Do you remember how that lie stood like a ghostly fear at the foot of your little trundle-bed? How terror arched black and sable wings above your pillow? How you tossed to and fro, until at last, broken by your mother’s love, you sprang up, felt your way through the dark hall, opened the door, flung yourself into your mother’s arms, sobbed out your confession, and was forgiven, utterly and squarely and forever forgiven? Don’t analyze your mother’s forgiveness--accept it and be healed thereby. Redemption is a passion flower, crimsoned with the blood of God’s heart. Don’t pick this passion flower to pieces, lest you lose it. The roots of God’s tree of life are fed with red rain, but the leaves of that tree, and the blossoms, heal the wounds of sinners.
— N. D. HILLIS
Forgiving an enemy can prevent further harm by transforming their heart.
* * * * *
Mr. H. J. Whigam, a war correspondent during the Boxer troubles, tells the following incident:
A Christian Chinaman was shot by a Cossack, and, as he lay on his dying bed, a squad of Cossacks was marched up before him that he might identify the murderer. “I am dying,” he said. “What does it matter?” “But,” said the officer, “we are not going to kill your assailant. We are only going to punish him, so that he shall not kill any more of your people.” The dying Chinaman opened his weary eyes and made answer: “When he knows that I have forgiven him, he will not kill again.”
Faithful rebuke motivated repentance and forgiveness between lord and servant.
* * * * *
John H. De Forest, in his book, “Sunrise in the Sunrise Kingdom,” says that the relation of lord and retainer is the main controlling principle that has shaped the destiny of Japan. It is natural that ideal lords should have ideal retainers whose lives were devoted to their masters. He says occasionally this devotion took the form of rebuking the lord for some unworthy act, even when the advice would bring death to the faithful servant.
For example, an aged retainer of a young Shogun saw with deep anxiety his youthful lord’s frivolous life, his love of games and dances and flowers, and determined to arouse him to his duties as a ruler. So going to the palace, he noticed a most exquisite dwarfed cherry-tree in full blossom in a splendid flowerpot. He rather bluntly asked his lord to give him the cherry-tree. On being refused he seized the pot and dashed it, flowers and all, on the stone steps, saying: “You care more for things than for men.” He expected death, but his lord saw the earnest purpose of his servant and repenting of his own frivolous life, forgave him.
True forgiveness requires faith, restitution, and repentance before absolution.
Lorenzo de Medici made confession to Savonarola, on his death-bed, of three special sins, involving plunder done by him to Florence and its citizens. While he confest, Savonarola consoled him by repeating, “God is merciful.” When Lorenzo had finished, he demanded three things of him before absolution could be given. First, that he should have a living faith in God’s mercy. Lorenzo replied that he had such a faith. Second, that he should restore what he had unjustly acquired. Lorenzo, after hesitating, consented. Then Savonarola drew himself up and said, “Give Florence back her liberties.” Lorenzo turned his face to the wall and uttered not a word, and Savonarola left the room without granting the absolution desired. (Text.)
Forgive others while they live so they can appreciate your forgiveness.
That we should forgive the faults of friends while they are in the flesh and can appreciate it is the lesson taught by Mrs. Marion Hutson in this verse:
Somewhere in the future, my lone grave
Will lie where flowers bloom and mosses wave,
And friends will stand beside it, speaking low
Of things I said and did so long ago.
My faults and follies all forgotten--dead--
And buried with me in my lowly bed.
Oh, loved ones! why not bury them to-day,
And let me feel forgiven while I may.
Lincoln’s grace in repaying past hurts with kindness exemplifies Christ-like character.
Mr. Lincoln took from his pocket a paper he had prepared in the case, which comprized eleven reasons why he should be appointed commissioner of the General Land Office. Among other things, Mr. Lincoln presented the fact that he had been a member of Congress from Illinois two years; that his location was in the West, where the Government lands were; that he was a native of the West, and had been reared under Western influences. He gave reasons why the appointment should be given to Illinois, and particularly to the southern part of the State. Major Wilcox says that he was forcibly struck by the clear, convincing, and methodical statement of Mr. Lincoln as contained in these eleven reasons why he should have the appointment. But it was given to his competitor, Mr. Justin Butterfield. After Mr. Lincoln became President, a member of Congress asked for an appointment in the army in behalf of a son of the same Justin Butterfield. When the application was presented, the President paused, and, after a moment’s silence, said: “Mr. Justin Butterfield once obtained an appointment I very much wanted, and to which my friends thought I was fairly entitled; and I hardly ever felt so bad at any failure in my life. But I am glad of an opportunity of doing a service to his son.” And he made an order for the commission. The son was General Dan Butterfield, afterward the dashing and efficient chief of staff of the Army of the Potomac. (Text.)--BROWNE, “Everyday Life of Lincoln.”
Harboring grievances wounds both parties; forgiveness and explanation bring healing.
* * * * *
I once said to a woman who had suddenly lost her best friend after years of the closest intimacy, without a quarrel or scene, and for no apparent reason, “every time he thinks of you he will be filled with remorse.” She replied, “Remorse? Not at all. He is quite sure that all the fault lies on my side. In retrospect, he has created imaginary grievance.” I indignantly protested, ready even to pity her the more. She smilingly silenced me by putting her finger on my lips, saying: “Do not pity me, I might have had grievances, but I have none; in spite of everything, mine is the better part.” And she was right.
Grievances are like a double-edged sword that wounds on one side the heart it enters, on the other the heart that sends it forth, and the most unhappy heart always holds the weapon, for the point that pierces sinks into depths from whence it is difficult to draw it from the wound. In reality everybody is a victim to grievances; they that harbor as well as they who create them, and for this reason frank explanations are never resorted to. And the saddest thing of all is, that the causes are often so slight and the suffering so great, as in the case of the Neapolitan, who, having never read the works of Tasso and Ariosto, fought seventeen duels on their respective merits.--DORA MELEGARI, “Makers of Sorrow and Makers of Joy.”
Thinking about something else is the best cure for offended feelings and bitterness.
To think about something else is the best and only sure cure for offended feelings. To think about the offense--its unkindness, its injustice, its meanness of spirit, and all its other ugly aspects--only adds to its sting and deepens our own suffering or anger. This hurts us, and helps no one. Eggs are not the only things that are given added life and power by being brooded over. If we want to enlarge and multiply everything unpleasant in that which has offended us, brooding over it will do it. If we want to have done with it and get it out of our life as quickly as possible, to turn deliberately away from it and concentrate our thought and energy upon something else is our sure road to success. “When any one has offended me, I try to raise my soul so high that the offense can not reach it,” Descartes is credited with saying. But we can not lift ourselves by mere will power. We can lose ourselves by devotion to something else--and thus we can lose the offense.--_Sunday School Times._
