Forgiving Ourselves

Pastor Burcham's Sermon

Sunday, February 5, 2006

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Rick Rushow is a pastor out in California . He tells the story about how his wife and he had a weekend getaway that was really spur of the moment, just a last minute thing, so they booked something really quick and the two of them got away. They only took carry-on luggage as they went. And he says, on the trip home, since they were going back home, what did it matter what went to what suitcase? So they put the two carry-ons on the bed and they just started tossing clothes in randomly. So his clothes were mixed with her clothes and her clothes were mixed with his clothes. They all got shoved into the bags and off they went to the airport. Now, because they had booked at the last minute, it ended up they had two different flights they were taking back home. So they said their goodbyes and Rick headed off for the security system to get onto his plane. As he was in security, wouldn't you know it? They tagged him for extra security. Yep, they did the whole wand thing and all of that. Then, to his horror, they picked up his bag and they opened it up. Rick says the man didn't say anything. He just looked in the bag and then looked at him, looked in the bag and looked at him. He said it was one of the most embarrassing and humiliating moments of his life. He never expected that anybody would ever open up the bag.

You and I carry around some luggage with us and some baggage. We dealt with one last week, that is, past hurts of things people have done to us. Sometimes we share what's in that bag with other people. Most times, we keep it to ourselves. But the second bag are the hurts we've inflicted on other people. Inside this bag are all the things we're ashamed of. It's all of our dirty deeds. It's all the lies we've told. It's all the friends we've betrayed, all of our thoughts we're ashamed of. And we never, ever dreamed that anyone would ever look in this bag. In fact, we pray no one ever looks in this bag because we don't want them to see the things we've thought, the things we've said, and the things we've done.

This bag holds all the stuff we'd like to get rid of. This bag is carried around with us of the hurts or the things we've done. And even though we understand God's forgiveness, for some reason, we can't seem to let go of it. This bag stands in the way between you and your relationship with God. Because your relationship will never be what God wants it to be or what you want it to be as long as you're carrying around the baggage, as long as you're carrying around the regret and the guilt and the shame of previous sin, that's going to stand in the way with your intimacy with God.

So, this morning, let's learn from God's word how to get rid of this baggage, how to get over past hurts, how to forgive ourselves. There are three things we need to do if we're going to forgive ourselves. The first one is we have to call it like it is. That is, we have to be honest with ourselves. We have to take a long, hard look at the baggage we carry around and we have to take a long look at our actions, our words, and our thinking that we have in the past and we need to call it for what it is. We need to be honest about it. We need to open up the bag and say, “Yeah, the things I've said that I would never do, I did.” “That's right, I went to the clinic.” “That's right, I gambled away the family savings.” “That's right, I lied.” “That's right, I cheated on the test.” “That's right, I got behind the wheel.” All those things we don't want anyone else to know about and we try to hide and we try to forget and we try to sort of discount it a little bit, that's in the bag. And if we're going to get over it and if we're going to forgive ourselves, then we have to be honest about what's in the bag.

That doesn't come naturally to us. The natural thing we want to do is we want to kind of soften the blow a little bit. So we don't want to talk about the sins we have committed. We want to talk about an error in judgment. We want to talk about flawed thinking. It's kind of like John Gossick. John Gossick is the mayor of Oswego , New York . Well, John Gossick's car, city-owned car, was spotted by a state trooper going down the freeway at 90 miles an hour. So the trooper pulled the car over. The problem was John wasn't behind the wheel. Cindy Harris was behind the wheel, and she claimed to be John Gossick's girlfriend. Mayor Gossick is a married man. You would think the shame, the humiliation of that might make him resign from office or at least offer a public apology and try to make amends with his wife but, instead, in boldness, he made a statement to the press that said essentially this, “In Oswego, we do not have any specific policy of who can and cannot drive public-owned cars. The only thing I am guilty of is poor judgment.” I wonder if Mrs. Gossick bought that one. That's what we'd rather call it, though. We'd rather rationalize it away. We'd rather say, “Well, it was the circumstances. It was my friends who talked me into it. I was young and I was foolish. I didn't see any other way out. I was pressured into it.” We'll come up with all kinds of ways to soften the blow, but we will never forgive ourselves until we're honest with ourselves, when we call it what it is. Now I'm not trying to make you feel any more guilty than what you do about what's in the bag. But what I am saying is you need to call it what it is and what it is is sin. And you're honest with yourself about that. You look inside the bag and you say, “I was wrong. There are no extenuating circumstances. There is no rationalization. There's no justification. What I did was wrong. I have not lived up to the standard God expects of me. I have not lived up to the standard I expect of myself. What's in here are all of the things I did wrong. I have sinned.” You'll be amazed at how much lighter the baggage comes when you stop expending so much energy trying to fool yourself into believing it's anything less than what it is. Call it what it is.

And then confess it. Confess the sin. We don't talk that way in today's language anymore. We don't talk about confessing something. But the only way to get to forgiveness is through confession. We need to confess the sins to God. And God gives us the promise, 1 John 1, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us all of our unrighteousness.” God has promised, when we confess our sins, He's going to wipe the slate clean, He's going to forgive us. So the second thing we need to do is, when we come face to face with our sin, is we confess that sin to God. And we're just as honest with God as we were with ourselves. We don't offer any explanations. We don't tell them about the circumstances. We simply say, “God, I have sinned.”

You think of King David from the Old Testament. You might remember King David has an adulterous relationship with Bathsheba. Bathsheba's husband comes home. He ends up having Bathsheba's husband killed in battle. He thinks he's gotten away with it, but you've got to believe he's carrying around some baggage with him. Just read some of the Psalms, you'll know the baggage David was carrying around with him from that sin. And he wasn't free of that sin until Nathan, the prophet, came up to him and confronted him. And he faced his sin in all honesty and David's response was, “I have sinned against the Lord.” No explanations. No rationalization. “I have sinned against the Lord.” And Nathan immediately says to him, “David, you're not going to die. God has forgiven you.” We need to confess our sins to God, openly, honestly.

But what happens when that's not enough, and I believe some of you know what I'm talking about. You have done something in this bag that you consider so bad and so heinous that you have confessed it numerous times to God. And although you know and believe God's forgiveness, you still can't seem to let it go. It still bothers you. It still plagues you. You still have the guilt and shame that's carrying along with that. You still have it in the bag. If that's the case, then what you might need to do is confess that sin to another Christian. It means you need to verbalize it. James 5 says, “Confess to each other and pray for one another so you might be healed.” Sometimes, when we have done something that just plagues our conscience and, even though we know and believe in God's forgiveness, what we need to do is we need to verbalize that to another Christian, that somehow by hearing ourselves say the words and to openly lay it out there in the light of day, this is what I've done and then to be reassured by that person of the forgiveness that releases us. You're going to have to be careful, obviously. It's not an easy thing to do. I suppose it's even a dangerous thing to do. You need to make sure whoever you confess this to is someone who's going to keep things in strict confidence and they're a mature Christian that can offer you God's forgiveness because what you're really doing is you're going to open up the luggage and you're going to let them peek inside, the thing you didn't want anyone else to see, you're going to let them see. So whether it's one of the pastors, whether it's an elder, whether it's a trusted friend, you need to go to them in strict confidence. But I think you'll be amazed at what happens and you finally hear yourself saying it and if the words come out of your mouth and all of a sudden you hear God's word of forgiveness and you're released from that because that's the third thing.

And that is to lay claim of the forgiveness God has already won for you. God has already won forgiveness for each and every one of us. Jesus didn't come into this world to condemn the world, but He says He came in this world to save the world. Look at His reaction to the woman caught in adultery. You can just imagine the crowd as they grab this woman caught in the mere act. They drag her out, probably half naked, throw her down in front of Jesus and say, “We're supposed to stone this woman. What do you say, Great Teacher?” And at the end, when the woman looks at Jesus and says, “No one else could condemn me because they weren't without sin.” Jesus was without sin. Jesus could have condemned her. Jesus says, “I don't condemn you either.” Jesus didn't condone her. He didn't condone her sinful activity. He doesn't condone any of our sinful activity, but He doesn't condemn us. That's not why He came.

Romans 5 says, “While we were still yet sinners, Christ Jesus died for us.” While we were still lost in sin, maybe we didn't even know we needed forgiveness, Christ Jesus came and He died for those sins. The fact of the matter is the Son of God came and lived among us. And though He was holy and perfect, He took on all of your sins. And those sins were nailed to the cross, and He paid the debt of your sin already. He literally went through hell so you wouldn't have to go through hell. So isn't it time you stop putting yourself through hell for something Jesus has already paid for? Jesus has paid for everything that's in the bag you're carrying around. His blood has washed it clean. That's what forgiveness is. Lay a hold of and believe the forgiveness that Jesus has.

There's a wonderful illustration of the forgiveness Jesus gives to us. I found it on the internet of all places. I happen to believe it's true, but that's just my personal thought. I'd like to share it with you. The story of Brian Morris, a 17-year-old. He had been given an assignment to write what was heaven like. Well, like at least some teenagers, not yours, of course, he procrastinated. He only had a few moments to get it done, and he finished it up in one evening. But he came out to his father and he says, “I nailed it, Dad. This is a good one. I really like this one.” Well, it became all too clear and all too true for Brian much sooner than it should have. Two months later, he died in a tragic accident. But this is his essay. You may have heard it.

“In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles, author, and subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first one to catch my attention read ‘Girls I Have Liked.' I opened it and began flipping through the cards, but I quickly shut it, shocked to realize I recognized the names written on each one. And then, without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity coupled with horror stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories, others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching. A file named ‘Friends' was next to one marked ‘Friends I Have Betrayed.' The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. ‘Books I Have Read,' ‘Lies I Have Told,' ‘Comfort I Have Given,' ‘Jokes I Have Laughed At.' Some were almost hilarious in their exactness, ‘Things I Have Yelled at My Brother About.' Others I couldn't laugh at, ‘Things I've Done in My Anger.' ‘Things I've Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.' I never ceased to be surprised at the contents. Often, there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes, fewer than I had hoped. I was overwhelmed by the shear volume of life I had lived. Could it be possible I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards, but each card confirmed its truth. Each was written in my own handwriting, and each was signed with my signature. When I came to the file marked, ‘Lustful Thoughts,' I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and draw out a card. I shuttered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind, ‘No one must ever see these cards. No one must ever see this room. I have to destroy them.' In an insane frenzy, I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty, burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began to pound it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled at a card, only to find it was strong as steel and it would not tear. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning on my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then the tears came. I began to weep, sobs so deep they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all, the rows of files, shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. ‘No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.' Then I pushed away the tears, and I saw Him. ‘No, please, not Him, not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.' I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. In the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. ‘Why did He have to read every one?' Finally, He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes, but this was not a pity that angered me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands, and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. Instead, He sat beside me and cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, he took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. ‘No,' I shouted, rushing to Him. All I could find to say was, ‘No, no,' as I pulled the card from His hand. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive, the name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly. But the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, ‘It's finished.' And then He took me by the arm and we walked out of the room, the files forever locked, never to be opened again.”

All of your files have been written in the name of Jesus over them. And they're never to be opened again. That's the gift Jesus gives to you. His forgiveness is complete. Now it's time to forgive yourself. Amen.