you forgave who?
the distance between us and the saints is (probably) suffering
In her article in the most recent issue of Mockingbird magazine, “When the Words Become True,” Dianne Collard recounts the tale of her son’s killing and her journey to forgiving her son’s murderer. I have a son. I can’t even fathom what it would be like to lose him. I especially couldn’t imagine the horror of losing him to senseless violence.
She tells in the article of hearing the news while living abroad, of her grief, of her wrestling with God. She wrestled with God, because she knew she must forgive her son’s murderer.
In the Christian faith, the call to forgive is absolute, coming from the lips of Christ Himself: “If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him, and if he sins against you seven times in the day, and turns to you seven times, saying, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive him” (Luke 17:3-4). As Collard puts it, “God’s expectation that I forgive my son’s murderer seemed unfair and totally beyond my understanding.”
Somewhere or another, C.S. Lewis talks about how the saints in heaven will appear like shining mountains of divine glory to us who have yet to be fully sanctified. When Collard looked at the sheer cliff of God’s demand to forgive her son’s murderer, she found herself descending into deeper depths with Him. It was totally unfair and totally beyond her understanding. Yet, as she struggled for faith in the midst of what seemed impossible, she was lifted by grace to attain new heights that made her, if not a mountain of grace, at least a sizable hill.
As I reflected on this incredible story, I was struck by the ways that this mother’s descent into hell led her to reach new heights of holiness. I know today that, if the inconceivable were to occur, I could not say that I “forgive the murderer of my child.” When she first heard the news, neither could she. But now she can. And that is nothing short of a miracle. It should qualify toward her sainthood as far as I’m concerned.
Knowing I could not do what she has been able to, I think this story teaches, at least, that the distance between us and the saints is (probably, at least partly) suffering. By clinging to faith in Christ, even through the impossible, Collard’s suffering became sacramental.
suffering, the path to holiness
A young woman named Blandina, in the year 177 in what we know today as Lyon, France, suffered sacramentally in a way that brought her to sainthood. A letter recounting the suffering of the persecuted Christians that year tells the story of how this 15 year old slave girl put Christ on display before thousands, as she persistently confessed, “I am a Christian, and there is nothing vile done by us.”
[S]he appeared as if hanging on a cross, and because of her earnest prayers, she inspired the combatants with great zeal. For they looked on her in her conflict, and beheld with their outward eyes, in the form of their sister, him who was crucified for them, that he might persuade those who believe on him, that every one who suffers for the glory of Christ has fellowship always with the living God.1
The ancients in the amphitheater saw Christ through St. Blandina’s suffering. Those Christians understood that there was something in tribulation that we should desire. When we suffer in faith and dependence on Christ, we are united to Him and put Him on display to the world through our very bodies, trials, and tears.
That’s a far cry from the suffering avoidance that tends to characterize much of American Christianity.
Dianne Collard’s suffering, devoted to Christ in faith and obedience, continues to be sacramental. When I hear her testimony of grace and forgiveness, I see Jesus through her. She becomes a living picture of Him. And as I see my Lord through her, He strengthens my faith and expands my imagination. It makes me believe in the possibility that perhaps the Spirit would bless me too with the ability to forgive in such circumstances. She writes:
But it is the free gift of God’s forgiveness — his mercy — that lays upon us the willingness of a forgiving spirit for others. If we understand the depths of our guilt and our dependency upon the grace of God, naturally we will extend forgiveness to those who sin against us. To state it another way, my forgiveness of others is the proof that I myself have been forgiven. I could not, as God’s child, choose to do anything but forgive.
I can’t forgive like Dianne Collard can. Not right now. I pray I never have to in this life. But whatever hardship or suffering the Lord chooses to let me go through, I trust He will give me the grace to cling to Him. And, maybe I too will be able to suffer and forgive in a sacramental way.
What does the story of Dianne Collard say to you? I’d love to hear from you! Please add your comments below!
Eusebius, Church History, 5.1.41.
Another question/comment:
I understand the extent of Dianne's forgiveness demonstrates the depth of her faith. And we should all desire to have such faith that if we were faced with a similar challenges we could emerge on the other side with such forgiveness.
And yet it feels incomplete to think of our faith as simply allowing us to endure great suffering and live uprightly in a profoundly broken world. Such faith would mostly be good for this life only. But shouldn't the real goal of our faith and endurance be to train our appetites and desires for God so that our joy is complete and upon meeting Him?
Perhaps endurance is a byproduct and not the objective of our faith. After all isn't what allowed Christ to suffer was the joy set before him? And didn't Paul say we are most to be pitied and our faith in vain if there is no resurrection to be with Christ?
I don't think you mean that the goal of our faith should be to suffer well and you probably meant to write a meditation on forgiveness. And I agree the more we have faith, the better we can endure suffering. But its good to remind ourselves that a life of faith is not only a life of suffering. It's a life preparing for greater joy.
Some additional wisdom on this important topic from Andrew White, the Anglican bishop who founded a mission church in Baghdad following the Iraq war: "Forgiveness is the only thing that prevents the pain of the past from determining what the future is going to be".