Dear Friends,
Jesus said, “Father,
forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.” And the soldiers
gambled for his clothes by throwing dice. (Luke 23:34 NLT)
This is a true story, told
to me by a young seminary student I met years ago. I'll call him Aaron (not his
real name).
Late one spring Aaron
was praying about having a significant ministry the following summer. He asked
God for a position to open up on some church staff or Christian organization.
Nothing happened. Summer arrived, still nothing. Days turned into weeks, and
Aaron finally faced reality—he needed any job he could find. He checked the
want ads, and the only thing that seemed a possibility was driving a bus in the
south side of Chicago . . . nothing to brag about, but it would help with
tuition in the fall. After learning the route, he was on his own—a rookie
driver in a dangerous section of the city. It wasn't long before Aaron realized
just how dangerous his job really was.
A small gang of tough
kids spotted the young driver and began to take advantage of him. For several
mornings in a row, they got on, walked right past him without paying, ignored
his warnings, and rode until they decided to get off . . . all the while making
smart remarks to him and others on the bus. Finally, he decided that had gone
on long enough.
The next morning,
after the gang got on as usual, Aaron saw a policeman on the next comer, so he
pulled over and reported the offense. The officer told them to pay or get off.
They paid . . . but, unfortunately, the policeman got off. And they stayed
on. When the bus turned another corner or two, the gang assaulted the young
driver.
When he came to, blood
was all over his shirt, two teeth were missing, both eyes were swollen, his
money was gone, and the bus was empty. After returning to the terminal and
being given the weekend off, our friend went to his little apartment, sank onto
his bed, and stared at the ceiling in disbelief. Resentful thoughts swarmed his
mind. Confusion, anger, and disillusionment added fuel to the fire of his
physical pain. He spent a fitful night wrestling with his Lord.
How can this be?
Where's God in all of this? I genuinely want to serve Him. I prayed for a
ministry. I was willing to serve Him anywhere, doing anything . . . and this is
the thanks I get!
On Monday morning,
Aaron decided to press charges. With the help of the officer who had
encountered the gang and several who were willing to testify as witnesses
against the thugs, most of them were rounded up and taken to the local county
jail. Within a few days, there was a hearing before the judge.
In walked Aaron and
his attorney plus the angry gang members who glared across the room in his
direction. Suddenly he was seized with a whole new series of thoughts. Not
bitter ones but compassionate ones! His heart went out to the guys who had
attacked him. Under the Spirit's control, he no longer hated them—he pitied
them. They needed help, not more hate. What could he do? Or say?
Suddenly, after there
had been a plea of guilty, Aaron (to the surprise of his attorney and everybody
else in the courtroom) stood to his feet and requested permission to speak.
"Your honor, I
would like you to total up all the days of punishment against these men—all the
time sentenced against them—and I request that you allow me to go to jail in
their place."
The judge didn't know
whether to spit or wind his watch. Both attorneys were stunned. As Aaron looked
over at the gang members (whose mouths and eyes looked like saucers), he smiled
and said quietly, "It's because I forgive you."
The dumbfounded judge,
when he reached a level of composure, said rather firmly: "Young man,
you're out of order. This sort of thing has never been done before!" To
which the young man replied with genius insight:
"Oh, yes, it has,
your honor . . . yes, it has. It happened over nineteen centuries ago when a
man from Galilee paid the penalty that all mankind deserved."
And then, for the next
three or four minutes, without interruption, he explained how Jesus Christ died
on our behalf, thereby proving God's love and forgiveness. He was not granted
his request, but the young man visited the gang members in jail, led most of
them to faith in Christ, and began a significant ministry to many others in
south Chicago.
He passed a tough
exam. And, as a result, a large door of ministry—the very thing he'd prayed
for—opened up before him. Through the pain of abuse and assault, Aaron began to
get a handle on serving others.
Forgiveness is not an
elective in the curriculum of servanthood. It is a required course, and the
exams are always tough to pass.
Forgiving (like
giving) improves our serving!
Yours in faith and
friendship,
Tom
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