Today’s author is Prince of Peace member & retired ELCA Pastor, Rev. Scott Tunseth.
This past Sunday the theme of the service focused on forgiveness. I don’t know about you, but I am struggling these days with forgiving. It is at the very center of our Christian faith and its right there in Jesus’ model prayer: “Forgive our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.” Sounds easy when you say it, but doing it, that’s harder. The Apostle Paul put the dilemma this way in his letter to the Romans: “For I know that the good does not dwell within me, that is, in my flesh. For the desire to do good lies close at hand, but not the ability. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do” (7:18-19).
A dilemma, for sure. I want to do the good, including forgiving those I find hard to forgive, let alone understand.
We rejoice in the forgiveness Jesus offered the woman, who the rest of the town regarded as a “sinner,” an outcast. She was so overwhelmed by this grace, so thankful that she crashed a private dinner party to thank Jesus by wiping his dusty feet clean with her tears of joy. Forgiveness does that. When we are forgiven, really forgiven, all that’s left is gratitude.
I remember a time I received an unexpected grace, a real and tangible forgiveness. I have told this story one other time, but for me, it’s a lesson in forgiving I won’t forget. I was four years old, but in the small town of Mayville, North Dakota, where I grew up, I had freedom to roam the neighborhood. My friend Dean and I hatched a plot one late summer day. Wouldn’t it be fun to sneak across the street and just three houses down the alley to backyard of the Thoreson family, who lived right next door to my grandma and grandpa Tunseth. This was the childhood home of Mazie Niebeling (then Mazie Thoreson), whom most of you know. But why the Thoreson backyard? Well, it was late summer and little green apples were beginning pop all over their tree. And some were low enough to the ground for a four-year-old to pick, and pick.
Dean and I grabbed as many small (unripe) apples as our pants pockets could hold. And then we started stuffing them into our shirts like knapsacks. When we couldn’t hold any more, we raced back to our house and hid behind the bushes planted in front of our house. We dumped our green treasures on the ground and giggled at our huge haul. We each took a bite and winced at how sour the apples were. We tried a second one with the same result, but the taste didn’t dampen our excitement, which was about to come to an end.
My mother had heard us laughing and ducked behind the bushes to see what we were up to. She saw the pile of apples and demanded we tell her where they came from. We were probably too young to try to cover up the truth, so we told they came from the Thoreson apple tree. She was not happy and gave us a good scolding. But then came something even worse. She said, “Boys, you need to bring these back to Mrs. Thoreson and tell her you are sorry.”
She got a bowl from the house and watched as we pitched all the uneaten apples into it. “Now head back and give these to Mrs. Thoreson right now.” My heart sank, and I teared up. I can still feel the terrible knot I had in my stomach. We slowly started to head back with the bowl, when Dean bolted in the other direction. I stood alone with the apples. I wanted to bolt, too, but I didn’t. With fear and trembling I carried the bowl of little unripe apples back to the Thoreson house and knocked on the side door. Mrs. Thoreson (Gladys) came to the door and greeted me warmly. When she noticed the bowl, she asked me, “What have you got there?” I looked down, because I had a hard time looking her in the eye. “We took these from your tree and my mom said I have to bring them back and say I’m sorry.” And boy, was I sorry! Then Gladys said, “I’m glad you told me. Now, I’ll bring these inside and you wait right here.” I wanted to run away, but I figured she was going to bring back the bowl, which she did.
But along with the bowl she had a big red, fully ripe apple in her hand. She handed both the bowl and the apple to me and told me again how much she appreciated me telling the truth and apologizing for taking her apples. I couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t chewed me out, and she gave me a beautiful red apple. An unexpected grace. My feet barely touched the ground as I rushed home to tell my mom.
Merciful God, touch us often with your unexpected grace. May your undeserved forgiveness melt our hardened hearts and help us to love even those whose motives and actions are a mystery to us. Amen.