Your Forgiveness Is None of Your Business
Acts 2:22-32
“I want to be forgiven. I just want to be forgiven.” That was the headline on a feature story published in The New York Times on October 15, 2023. The quote was from a man named Jim Lorge, one of several people profiled in the article who were seeking a pardon from the Minnesota Board of Pardons for crimes they had committed many years earlier. Once the heir apparent to take over his family’s business of building electrical transformers, Mr. Lorge became addicted to methamphetamine and transformed himself from promising business leader into crystal-meth manufacturer, even using his family’s facilities as a makeshift meth lab.
Mr. Lorge’s arrest had ripple effects that reached far beyond his loss of freedom. In a reversal of the Old Testament adage that the sins of the parents are visited upon the children, Mr. Lorge’s sins were visited upon his parents. They were forced to sell the family business, his father died of cancer, his mother lost the family home to foreclosure, and rather than retiring to Florida as she had planned, her retirement is now spent selling real estate to help make endsmeet.
After a stayed sentence and one failed attempt at rehab, Mr. Lorge was given a second chance through a faith-based treatment program. It worked. He got clean and sober, and after finishing the program he returned as a recovery coach to help others. He paid off his court fines and worked to repair relationships. He was a model success story. After putting his life back together, Mr. Lorge was now looking for one thing…forgiveness in the form of a pardon from the Minnesota Board of Pardons.
To obtain that pardon, Mr. Lorge would have exactly ten minutes to present his case to a three-person panel made up of the governor, the state attorney general, and a state supreme court judge. Ten minutes to make a case for mercy. Feeling the weight upon his shoulders, before his hearing Mr. Lorge asked of family and friends who accompanied him to the hearing, “Do I have to carry this burden for the rest of my life? I want to be forgiven. I just want to be forgiven.”
You don’t need to have run afoul of the justice system to feel a deep-seated need for pardon, for forgiveness. Many of us at one time or another have been burdened by the weight of guilt for some past wrong. Perhaps you carry it with you still. What would you do to be freed from that weight? What would you give? What would you be willing to sacrifice in order to receive forgiveness?
What would you be willing to sacrifice in order to receive forgiveness? How about nothing?
How about nothing? Zero. Zilch. Nada. This is the radical claim of the gospel: God’s forgiveness is not something that we earn by our own effort; forgiveness comes to us as a gift freely given. All we need to do is hold out our hands to receive it.
And who would know this better than Peter? The last we heard from Peter before today’s reading from Acts was in the liturgy of the Good Friday service. After Jesus’ arrest, Peter followed from a distance, trying to blend in amid those gathered in the courtyard of the high priest. But he was soon recognized as an associate of Jesus, something he denied with curses and by swearing, “I do not know the man!”
And yet today we read of Peter’s standing before a large crowd proclaiming the very same Jesus that he had denied. The transformation is remarkable—from faithless to fearless, cowardly to courageous, from standing back and watching events play out to stepping forward and witnessing to them, proclaiming the new reality that the resurrection of Jesus has ushered in.
Peter’s words here in Act 2 could be considered the first Easter sermon, although he is actually speaking on the day of Pentecost, exactly fifty days since the resurrection. Jews from all over the empire have gathered in Jerusalem for the festival. Peter seizes the moment and addresses the crowd. “Fellow Israelites, listen to what I have to say.”
Fellow Israelites. Peter wants it known that he is an Israelite. He is a Jew addressing his fellow Jews. This will matter for what he is about to say.
“Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with deeds of power, wonders, and signs that God did through him among you, as you yourselves know….” Peter is reminding them of what they already know, of what they witnessed with their own eyes regarding Jesus of Nazareth, a Jewish rabbi. He healed the sick, fed the hungry, opened blind eyes, broke bread with outcasts and sinners, and proclaimed the good news of God’s kingdom to the poor. All these things attested to the truth that he was God’s anointed, the long-awaited Messiah. The signs and wonders spoke for themselves. Here in this carpenter’s son from the nowhere town of Nazareth the kingdom of God was manifest for all of Israel to see.
But many refused to see, especially those in positions of power, who in looking at Jesus saw only a challenge to their own authority and a troublemaker who threatened the established order, the system that had served them so well. “This man,” Peter goes on, even though he was anointed by God, was “handed over to you according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God.”
God knew exactly what was going to happen. Jesus himself knew and still willed it so. He whose words and deeds testified to the power of God at work in him agreed to empty himself of power to carry out the plan that God had ordained. He would become forsaken, despised, and crucified as a criminal. All who looked upon him would either pity or mock him.
And yet this same Jesus—forlorn and forsaken, derided and defeated—God raised from the dead, “having released him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for him to be held in its power.” It was impossible for him to be held in death’s power. Now that is a claim. And one that can be backed up. Prior to Jesus, death was undefeated. Death always got the last word. But in God’s raising Jesus from the dead, death has suffered its first defeat. The first of countless defeats, because everyone in Christ is raised along with him.
This is the argument that Paul makes in his letter to the Romans. Everyone baptized into Christ is baptized into his death. “For if we have been united with him in a death like his,” Paul writes, “we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his” (Rom. 6:5).
Christ’s resurrection is our resurrection. His victory is our victory, even though we contributed nothing to the final score.
Christ’s resurrection is our resurrection. His victory is our victory, even though we contributed nothing to the final score. When the University of Connecticut’s men’s basketball team defeated Duke on a miraculous last-second shot in the NCAA tournament two weeks ago, you might have heard the screaming from the manse. “OMG, we won!” I shouted. But I didn’t score any points. I didn’t grab any rebounds. I didn’t even sit on the bench. I wasn’t even on the team! And yet I celebrated as though it was my victory.
In a similar way, we share in Christ’s victory even though we had nothing to do with it. We had nothing to do with it, and yet it was accomplished entirely for us.
This is where things get personal. Christ does not die for “sinners” in the abstract. He dies for his disciples who abandoned him. He dies for Peter who denied him. He dies for Thomas who will doubt him. He dies for the Jewish authorities who falsely accused him, for the Roman authorities who mercilessly crucified him, for the bandits crucified alongside him, and for the crowds who mocked and scorned him as he hung from the cross. He dies even for Judas who betrayed him.
As he dies for them, so he is raised for them. Their betrayal, their cowardice, their doubt, their treachery, their criminality, their cruelty, their heartlessness—none of it is a bridge too far for Christ to forgive. His forgiveness is all-encompassing. Just as in his death, his grace is stronger than any sin, so in his resurrection, his love is stronger even than death. God raised him up, Peter proclaims, because it was impossible for him to be held in death’s power.
Peter proclaims this. That Peter. The Peter who swore to stand by Jesus even if all others abandoned him. The Peter who did not stand by him but stood a safe distance from him, watching to see what would happen. The Peter, who when he was accused of being an associate of Jesus, three times denied knowing him.
If Jesus can forgive Peter, don’t for a second think that Jesus can’t or won’t forgive you. I don’t care what it is that you’ve done. If it was impossible for the grave to contain Jesus, it is impossible for his grace not to unchain you…not to unchain you from the bonds of guilt that have weighed you down.
Jesus does not withhold forgiveness until you show yourself worthy. Until you’ve confessed your sin, made amends, and vowed never to stumble again. There is no heavenly board of pardons that will review your file. You don’t need to present your case. You don’t need to gather your witnesses. You’re not on the clock. The good news is that your forgiveness is none of your business because Jesus has made it his. God’s forgiveness is not a goal for you to achieve but God’s gift for you to receive.