This week I came across a story about a large evangelical church that exercised church discipline on one of its members in a seemingly harsh way. For those of you who haven’t read the story I hate to be a tease, but I won’t share the link here. Church discipline is an exceedingly complex and difficult process, and since the story only shares one party’s perspective I have misgivings about shedding a spotlight on it now.

After reading this story I spent a lot of time reflecting on confession, repentance and church discipline. The story resurfaced some feelings and convictions I have developed over the years about this topic. Church discipline is one of those practices that is both Biblical and restorative, but when done poorly it can also be destructive and humiliating. I have seen both.

Since I have been ruminating about these issues all week, I want to offer a few tips for responding to another Christian when they are caught in sin. These thoughts are based not only on Scripture but the mistakes I have seen others make and the mistakes I have made myself. I hope they will be helpful to you.

One of the first things to consider when a friend confesses her sin is that sin brings out sin in others, including ourselves. Sin is a bell that cannot be un-rung, and its knell penetrates everyone around it. Not only does sin negatively impact the life of the sinner and those directly impacted by the action of the sin, but it also has the ability to sour an atmosphere, to corrode trust among friends, to create division, and to tempt.

I think a lot of Christians are aware of this dynamic, which is why many people react to sin in fear. There is a fear that we will somehow be sullied by the situation or pulled down by it, a fear that leads some Christians to distance themselves relationally and emotionally from the sinner, or take extreme measures to purge the sin from the community.

However, it’s important to realize that these very reactions can also be manifestations of sin. When the sin of a friend comes to light, Satan can gain a foothold in that moment by infecting us with the brokenness of the situation, but he does so in incredibly subtle ways. Often times the greatest temptation is not the originating sin itself,  but a temptation toward self-righteousness.

While we should always be sickened by the ugliness of sin–just as God is–we must also treat the sinner the way that God does: with grace, love, compassion, and mercy. That doesn’t mean we ignore what happened and brush it off–neither did God–but God was not so righteous that He could not come to earth and be near to us in our brokenness, to deliver us from that broken state, and restore us.

When a friend is caught in sexual sin or financial sin, it is not the inclination of most Christians to draw closer. We are more likely to recoil and judge, so be on guard against the additional brokenness that is caused by this un-Christlike reaction. Self-righteousness is nothing more than a consequence of sin, and it greatly inhibits the process of church discipline and restoration.

Second, there is a crucial distinction between a repentant sinner and an unrepentant sinner. In Matthew 18:15 Jesus teaches, “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained your brother.” In this passage about church discipline (verses 15-20), this opening verse divides the passage in two: We are presented with the appropriate response for a repentant sinner, and the appropriate response for an unrepentant sinner. When dealing with a repentant sinner, the remaining verses of this passage are practically irrelevant.

Knowing this distinction, an unrepentant sinner is typically one who either denies their sin as being sinful, or who simply refuses to stop engaging in the sin. And while this distinction would seem clear, it is my experience that Christians have trouble determining when the sinner is “truly repentant.” As a result of this confusion, extra measures are sometimes put into place–beyond measures of accountability–to ensure that repentance has occurred.

To be fair, this is a difficult process and I sympathize with any leader who is charged with overseeing it, especially since this is the point at which church discipline can either be restorative or destructive, or a mix of both.

Every situation is different so I hesitate to prescribe a list of rules about how to detect whether a person is truly repentant or merely paying lip service. What I would encourage Christians to consider is whether the church discipline/accountability is at all punitive or excessive. Not only has Christ already paid for our sins (thereby nullifying the need for additional punishment), but the Holy Spirit also convicts and breaks us in the midst of our sin. If this conviction seems to have taken place, it is the job of the community to help the repentant Christian work toward restoration, not to ensure conviction and brokenness.

This leads me to my final thought about church discipline. We need to exercise church discipline in a way that will encourage confession among the body of Christ, not terrify people away from it. That is perhaps the most concerning element about the story I mentioned above. Regardless of the particular church’s perspective on the story, it is difficult to imagine that any church members who are struggling with the same sin would be encouraged to confess it. If repentant, confessing believers are treated to an iron fist and public humiliation, rather than compassionate chastening and disciplined restoration, the result will not be a transparent confessing community.

Confession is a tremendously difficult, humbling act by which one lay themselves bare before those they trust. Through confession one becomes extremely vulnerable. We must therefore be good stewards of this sacred trust. When a fellow Christian confesses their sin to you, you are put in a place of tremendous power to either restore them or break them further.

Church discipline is never easy and it may look harsh to those outside the church. That’s ok sometimes. But since we are sinners handling sin we are bound to respond imperfectly, and that is a humbling fact. Scripture is available to guide us, but the passages on church discipline aren’t the only relevant ones to direct us. The life and example of Christ is an even better starting point.

“To excuse what can really produce good excuses is not Christian charity; it is only fairness. To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable, because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you. This is hard. It is perhaps not so hard to forgive a single injury. But to forgive the incessant provocations of daily life – to keep on forgiving the bossy mother-in-law, the bullying husband, the nagging wife, the selfish daughter, the deceitful son – how can we do it? Only, I think, by remembering where we stand, by meaning our words when we say in our prayers each night, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” We are offered forgiveness on no other terms. To refuse it means to refuse God’s mercy for ourselves. There is no hint of exceptions and God means what He says.”

- C. S. Lewis

This is so much more difficult to practice than it sounds. I pray that, each day, God is slowly transforming me into the kind of woman who aims not only to forgive the large, occasional offenses, but the daily offenses that would otherwise crawl into my heart, ever so quietly, and poison me.

But first I pray for a grateful spirit, since the forgiven are all the more eager to forgive.

Hi friends. Today I have a message for you that probably isn’t new. You’ve likely heard it many times before. But if you’re like me you need to hear it again and again, which is why I am sharing this message once more. I hope it is what you need to hear today.

A lot of Christians serve in their churches, attend Bible studies, sing in the choir, or lead ministry events, all while a terrible thought looms deep in the back of their minds: “If they only knew.” The Christian call is a tall order, after all, so it’s no surprise that a lot of us feel like fakes. Everyone sees the church version of your faith and the Facebook version of your family, but no one sees you arguing with your spouse, struggling with addiction, fighting an eating disorder, or succumbing to doubt. As a result, many of us feel like we’re living a double life.

If that’s you, if you feel like a fake who has everyone fooled, if you struggle with the fear that if they only knew the real you, they wouldn’t let you serve in church or even darken the doors of the building, I have two thoughts for you.

First, you’re not alone. Scripture tells us that Satan is an accuser (Rev. 12:10). He makes it his mission to point out your faults and shame you with your mistakes. He will paralyze you with guilt and humiliation. And as a result, you will hide from one of the key resources God gives us for fighting temptation: the Christian community.

If you are struggling with the shame of hypocrisy, one of the first and most important steps you can take is to tell someone. Find someone you trust, someone who will speak truth and grace and forgiveness into your heart, and confess your sin. And do it often. It’s scary, to say the least, but it also unlocks the power of Satan’s accusations. He wants you to be paralyzed in isolation. He wants you to be cut off from spiritual resources and he wants you to despair. Don’t let him. Talk to your Christian friends, and hear about the mercy and love you have in Christ.

Second, your sins are already forgiven. How many of us live as if salvation is by grace, but sanctification is by works? It is an easy trap to fall into given how many testimonies are essentially spiritual “befores” and “afters.” We assume that life is only a mess before conversion, but after conversion everything is neat and tidy. Well it’s not…..at least, it hasn’t been for me. I don’t think it was for Paul either (Rom. 7:15-19). Which is why we must constantly remember that Christ died for the sins we already committed, and the sins we have yet to commit.

These two truths are important, not simply because they combat the suffocating shame that accompanies sin, but because they set us free to serve God. That’s what’s at stake in all of this. The ultimate problem with guilt is not its effects on your self-worth, though that is indeed a negative consequence. The ultimate problem with guilt is that it fixes your eyes on yourself, taking your focus off of God and off of neighbor. In short, shame prevents you from fulfilling the two greatest commandments.

That is why, as Hebrews 12:1 explains, sin so easily entangles. We not only get caught in the act of sin, but the shame of sin as well. So while it is important to cast off sin and pursue a holy life, it is also important to cast off guilt and shame. These partners in crime have no place in the Christian life, and until we free ourselves of the very things which Christ put to death on the cross, we will be unable to “run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”

So if that’s you today, if you are wrestling with shame and guilt, confess that shame to a loving friend and cast off the guilt that has already been removed in Christ. Run the race marked out for you, and pursue God with abandon. Hear that truth today.

As some of you know, I wrote an article for Her.meneutics a few weeks ago that incited the rage of my readers. In all honesty, I was utterly shocked by the response. The article, titled How to Talk About Having Children, was not intended to be controversial. In fact, I thought it would go right under the radar as one of the more boring posts of the month. I was wrong.

The post not only generated criticism about my writing and ideas, but about me as a person. And while I have a number of speculations about why people responded the way they did, suffice it to say that it hurt. That was my first real initiation into the brutal side of writing and publishing, and I walked away with a limp.

Since then I have regrouped, picked myself back up, and moved on. But the whole situation gave me a lot to think about as my writing becomes more public. I am sure to receive criticism in the future, so how will I respond to it?

Providentially, I came across a relevant article by Tim Keller this week. The piece was called Speaking with Contempt, and in it he examined Jesus’ words against harboring anger in your heart. What was particularly interesting about Keller’s analysis was his explanation of Matthew 5:22, which reads,

Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, ‘Raca,’ is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell.

According to Keller, the word “raca” is like the modern-day equivalent of calling someone an air-head. A quiet giggle might have arisen from Jesus’ audience upon hearing such a silly insult…that is, until Jesus ended his statement with a judgment. This, Keller speculated, would have caught the crowd off guard. Why such a harsh condemnation against such a harmless action? To this Keller responded with a quote from R.T. France: “The deliberate paradox of Jesus’ pronouncement is that ordinary insults may betray an attitude of contempt which God takes extremely seriously.”

Keller then brought this lesson to bear on Numbers 20, in which Moses strikes a rock to bring forth water. In a show of contempt towards the critical Israelites, Moses struck a rock to bring water from it, even though God had instructed him only to speak to the rock to bring forth water. In response to Moses’ brash sign of anger, God forbade him from entering the Promised Land. Seems a little harsh, right?

Here Keller explains that God was rebuking the orientation of Moses’ heart, not the action of striking the rock. God admonished Moses for the contempt, the bitterness, and the pretension he held toward God’s people. Moses thought he was better than them,  and his actions betrayed his arrogance.

This, Keller, points out, is the great danger for Christians who receive criticism. Keller describes Moses’ mistake saying,

“The relentless criticism had made him self-righteous. He held them in contempt. He had wrath but no compassion, and that is the mark of a man who is becoming less like God, not more…Moses is a man who has forgotten grace, and the sign of it is a sanctimonious spirit along with words of denunciation without humility and compassion.”

He then adds,

“All leaders, and especially Christian leaders, must be on guard against this inevitable temptation and this terrible sin. It is natural, when under criticism, to shield your heart from pain by belittling the critics in your mind. “You stupid idiots.” Even if you don’t speak outwardly to people like Moses did, you do so inwardly.  That will lead to self-absorption, self-pity, maybe even delusions of grandeur, but the great sin is that the growth of inner disdain leads to pride and a loss of humble reliance on God’s grace. Moses treated God with contempt when he became contemptuous toward his people.”

What a powerful word! I can relate to it all too well. It is easy to protect my heart by tearing down my critics, even if I do so in seemingly harmless ways. I let those minor insults slide as long as I don’t display outright rage.

Yet even the most benign insults betray a heart of contempt, one that spurns the grace of God in favor of self-righteous judgment. And as Keller noted, this mindset makes me less like Christ, not more.

Christians receive a lot of criticism in our culture–some of it deserved, and some not. But how we respond to undeserved criticism is what makes us truly Christ-like. Will we bear the injury, showing grace and mercy instead of wrath? Or will we defend ourselves and attack our critics? Of the two options I know how Christ responded, so for me to respond in any other way is to be remarkably ungrateful for the mercy shown me. What a difficult but strangely beautiful perspective as I journey forward in ministry.

As someone who feels particularly called to women’s ministry, I am a little ashamed to admit that during my years as an adult I have had a number of catastrophic fallings out with friends. Despite my belief that this behavior was supposed to have ended in high school, some of my biggest blow-ups have occurred since graduating college.

After every one of those fights I was sure we would never be friends again! Forgiveness was one thing, but friendship? Never! That is why I was surprised when I recently realized that every single one of these friendships has been reconciled. That is not to say that we’re now BFF’s, and none of these reconciliations happened in a dramatic or super-intentional way. Yet over time, slowly and gently, God worked behind the scenes to heal my heart and heal the relationship.

A few of these friends never even knew that there was ever brokenness between us. At least not to the extent I felt it. I had nursed a secret bitterness toward them because of actions that I thought were aimed at hurting me, even though I can never really be sure that they were. Amazingly, God changed my heart and I consider some of them to be among my closest friends today!

These series of events therefore raise an important question for us as Christians: How are we to respond when a friendship ends? Do we simply go our separate ways, avoid them at church or school, and move on with our lives? There used to be a part of me that was ok with this response. As long as you had forgiven the person, everything else seemed extra and unnecessary.

However I have since reconsidered this position, and my primary reason is this: Our witness as the church is at stake. In John 13:34-35 Jesus exhorts the disciples, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” Put another way, our identity as the people of God is to be marked by a radical love that is unlike anything the world has seen. It is to be different. It is to be illogical. It is to be shocking.

That said, when a friend hurts or betrays us, we are to respond in a way that is definitively different from the world’s response. We do more than forgive. We embrace. And in so doing, we testify to the redeeming power of our God. We show the world that our talk of God as a healer is not just lip-service but a reality. Our love for one another makes the unconditional love of God more believable to the world. Through us, they get a taste of a love they never thought possible.

What does this mean practically speaking? Well it doesn’t mean you cover over the offense, and I don’t even think it means that reconciliation must occur immediately. The last thing God wants is a superficial obedience without a heart change. Nor does it mean we must return to being as close to the person as we used to be. What Jesus’ words do require is an openness toward reconciliation, whenever that time comes. It could take years, but it won’t happen at all if you’re not open to it.

One of the ways that God helped me to forgive and reconcile with friends was to realize their own brokenness. Whenever someone hurts me, I feel like I am the victim and they are the one in power, using their power to injure me. However God softened my heart and turned this perspective on its head by helping me to see the ways in which these former friends suffer and struggle in life. In fact, it was those very insecurities or wounds that often caused them to treat me the way that they did. By leveling the playing field and remembering that we’re all broken humans clumsily trying to follow Christ, God helped me to see these ex-friends the way He does: Sinners desperately in need of grace. It didn’t happen over night, but it happened.

That is why I encourage you to open your heart to the friends you want to forget. No matter how great the sin against you, consider how you can exemplify Jesus’ words in John 13. I’m not going to prescribe what steps you should take or what that reconciliation looks like–every situation is different. Simply let Jesus’ words be true of your life. Do you love in a way that is shocking, radical, and irrational to the world around you? How might God be softening your heart to love that person again? How might He be changing the way you see them, or giving you an opportunity to reach out and change the ending?

The next time you hear someone say, “I don’t believe in having regrets,” pay attention. You’ll most likely hear it from a celebrity on t.v., but it’s a mantra that has come to define our culture. We are a culture that doesn’t believe in having regrets.

What this really means is that no one ever wants to admit they made major mistakes in their life, or that they wish things were different for them. That’s why the idea of a life without regrets is so appealing. It encourages us to surrender ourselves to the tide of the universe, embracing a vague theology about how everything happens for a reason. And there is something to be said for focusing on the future instead of beating yourself up about a past you cannot change. Even from a Christian perspective, God sets us free from guilt. While we should feel convicted about our sin and strive to do better, the punishment for our past mistakes has already been paid. God doesn’t ask us to continue punishing ourselves. From that angle, the mantra of “no regrets” is somewhat compatible with a Christian understanding of God’s sovereignty and His grace.

However, regret and guilt are two very different things. We don’t need to bear the guilt of a sin from which we’ve been forgiven, but we should certainly feel remorseful about it. We should be sorrowful that it happened. But our culture doesn’t make this distinction, which is why the language of sin and guilt is so unintelligible to them. When we try to articulate disobedience to a world that doesn’t believe in having regrets, or when we explain sin to a culture that “did the best they could with what they had” or “made the choice that was right for them,” the concept doesn’t take hold.

This unintelligibility becomes particular obvious in discussing topics of morality, such as divorce or premarital sex. In a world where people don’t have regrets, it doesn’t matter that a person had sex with a ton of different people or that they were married multiple times. These decisions are recounted as valuable experiences that shaped them into who they are. Now they’re stronger for it. No regrets.

Under this light, the ideology’s true colors are revealed. While it portrays itself as the ultimate live-life-to-the-fullest kind of worldview, it’s really just a cover-up for selfishness. Maybe someone has no regrets about their divorce, but what about their spouse, or their children? And while a guy or girl may have no regrets about the people they slept with, what about the partners they may have hurt? While we shouldn’t bemoan the things we had no control over, or be wrought with unending guilt about the past, we should certainly regret the times when we hurt ourselves, or others.
A life defined by regret isn’t healthy, but a life with NO regrets at all is just as unbalanced.

Knowing this about our culture, it does give us some insight on how to articulate our faith. God doesn’t warn us about sin simply because He’s a prude. He’s not a stick-in-the-mud deity in the sky who doesn’t want us to have any fun. He warns us against sin the way a parents warns a child about a hot stove. It will hurt us, and it will hurt others. We live for Christ as a means for being free of those snares, not because we’re better or holier than others.

As Christians we want to be free of regrets, but that doesn’t mean we superficially gloss over the ways in which we’ve messed up. In taking those mistakes seriously, we acknowledge the people we have hurt, including God, while embracing the forgiveness that awaits us in Jesus Christ. A life without regrets does neither.

More often than I would expect, I hear break-up stories from my college students that will go something like this…

Alex and Sarah have been dating for 2 years, and even though they’re only 19 years old, they’re already talking about marriage. Everything seems just perfect! Then one summer Alex and Sarah are apart for a few months, and during that time Sarah finds a guy that she likes better than Alex, so she hooks up with him.

Alex and Sarah eventually break up, and Alex is left completely heart-broken. But strangely enough, if you ask Alex about Sarah he still maintains that she’s a nice girl. Even though Sarah has totally crushed Alex and treated him badly along the way, he says that she really is a “good Christian.” She may have made a mistake, but she’s still the most amazing woman he’s ever met! And what’s even more miraculous is that he was able to forgive her almost as soon as she told him the bad news. That’s how much he loves her.

Whenever I hear this story, I feel somewhat conflicted about how to respond. After all, we ministers are supposed to encourage forgiveness, not warn against it. However, this poor guy is setting himself up to get hurt again, and I can’t encourage him to do that either.

So the question is, what is really going on here?

The problem in Alex’s thinking is that he’s failed to draw a distinction between forgiveness and trust. One of the best examples of this difference can be found in the life of Joseph in Genesis 44. After having been betrayed by his brothers and later reunited with them in Egypt, Joseph’s brothers don’t recognize their successful younger sibling. So Joseph decides to send them on a little misadventure. He frames them for stealing and threatens to throw one brother in jail, all the while observing their responses.

After leading them through this trickery, Joseph discovers that their hearts have indeed changed, so he reveals himself to them and they all live happily after.

The story has a very happy ending, and is especially encouraging to read when we go through the dark times in our lives, but what was up with the deception and manipulation at the end? Was that really necessary? It seems like Joseph was almost toying with his brothers just to get back at them.

While I cannot know the heart of Joseph, I suspect there was a lot more to his motives than simple vengeance. On the contrary, Joseph was testing them–not to determine whether he should forgive them, but whether he should trust them. He was learning whether or not he should let them back into his life, but that is a very different matter from forgiveness.

We know that Joseph had forgiven his brothers because of his response that “what they intended for evil, God intended for good.” His forgiveness was based not on their repentance, but on God’s love. This tells us that Joseph wasn’t acting out of a twisted desire for retribution, but out of wise caution as he took the time to determine whether they were trustworthy.

And this brings us back to the case of Alex and Sarah. When I hear stories like theirs, I wonder if Alex is confusing forgiveness and trust–he may think that he’s forgiven Sarah, but what he’s really experiencing is a desperate desire to get her back, which is leading him to trust her prematurely. He is sure that she’s still a nice girl, and odds are that if she came back wanting to reconcile, he would let her. That does not, however, mean that he’s taken the time to determine if she is trustworthy. On the contrary, his actions reveal that he hasn’t learned anything about her character at all. Nor has he grappled with the hard work of forgiveness…he’s just temporarily blind to it.

Forgiveness and trust are two very different things. While God does call us to forgive everyone, He does not call us to trust everyone. Before we put our confidence and vulnerability in someone who has hurt us, we must first determine if they will be responsible with that vulnerability. And this can only be determined over time.

The problem is that many people will be quick to trust, under the guise of being forgiving. From the outside, it would seem that they’ve already forgotten the injury, but in reality they are naively trusting and hoping for the best. If any forgiveness has taken place, it is based on a hope that the person can change, not based on the sovereignty and love of God.

The distinction is this: forgiveness is based upon God, but trust is based upon the individual. Because God never changes, the command to forgive does not change either. But not all individuals are trustworthy, so if someone breaks your trust, be slow to trust them again. That is something they must earn.

Now there are two different ways that we go about this whole forgiveness process wrongly. The first is what I described above–we think we have forgiven someone because we are so quick to trust them again, but that doesn’t mean forgiveness has actually occurred. Usually that kind of forgiveness is conditional–you have forgiven them under the condition, or at least hope, of reconciliation. But when that reconciliation does not happen, the true nature of your forgiveness will often reveal itself in the form of jadedness or long-festering disdain.

Or, the “forgiveness” is actually just a devaluing of yourself. In romantic relationships in particular, individuals are quick to “forgive” because they don’t think the injury was really all that bad. They are sure that this person is the one for them and that they won’t find anyone else who will love them more, so they “forgive” them, sometimes even thinking that they may have deserved it. This is NOT forgiveness. The only reason forgiveness is even necessary is that a REAL injury has taken place, so a quickness to forgive should not be based on a belittling of the wrong or an underestimation of what you deserve–it should instead be based upon the infinite healing and love of God in the face of these wrongs.

The second error we make is the opposite of the first: Refusing to forgive under the guise of refusing to trust. Though we have not actually forgiven the individual, we hide our anger behind the excuse, “I just can’t trust them anymore.” And while it is fine to wait before you trust someone again, this lack of trust does not legitimize a heart of bitterness or rage. Withholding trust is an intentional action based on wisdom and prudence–refusing forgiveness comes only from a selfish desire to hurt the other.

If someone has hurt you, you will likely find yourself in one of those two places. For some of you, you have been wounded beyond measure and this will be a long process of forgiveness that will take years to mend. For others, you have been wounded but you are so quick to trust that you are foolishly running right back into throes of danger. In both cases, I would encourage you to read the story of Joseph. It provides us with much needed hope during times of great darkness, but it also reminds us of the importance of caution when our hearts tempt us to act unwisely. The God of Joseph is the same God of you now, so be sure that you actions are determined by His unchanging, faithful character, not your circumstances.

Have you ever broken off a relationship with someone after they hurt you?

Have you ever found yourself acting awkward or uncomfortable around a close friend after they betrayed your trust?

For most of us, we can think of at least one instance in which this kind of estrangement has occurred. Someone we love and trust hurts us, and as a result of that injury the relationship never recovers. Even when we try to be civil to one another, the relationship is never quite the same again.

From the perspective of the injured party, this reaction seems reasonable. But have you ever been on the other end? Have YOU been the one to screw up and hurt a loved one, only to forever be emotionally shut out by them? Maybe they weren’t mean to you or openly bitter, but it seemed that no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much time had passed, you never received full forgiveness. The wrong was always hanging in the air.

I have been on both sides of this situation. In the first scenario I felt justified in staying guarded and keeping my distance; in the second scenario I felt helpless and frustrated that true forgiveness was just outside my grasp. It’s funny how our sense of justice is so relative to our position.

But the thing is, justice isn’t relative. And neither is grace. Which is why we have to examine what’s going on when we let a relationship die in the face of betrayal. What does it say about our faith?

In one of his sermons, Mark Driscoll talks about the cosmic law that all sin demands a sacrifice. Something must bear the price of wrong doing. Something must set justice back at its equilibrium.

Prior to Christ, this was done by sacrificing an animal. Fortunately Christ came and took the punishment on himself, once and for all. In these sacrifices we witness the universal principle that all sin results in punishment. Something or someone must be sacrificed–it is simply a matter of who bears the brunt of it.

In light of this principle, Driscoll points out that in the face of a wrong-doing, the thing we often choose to sacrifice is our relationship. In our minds, the relationship has been so utterly destroyed by sin that we must throw it away. A friend betrays you, so you end the friendship. A spouse hurts you, so you divorce. A sacrifice is needed, so you place your broken relationship on the altar of justice, and you watch it burn.

That is not, however, necessary. When we sacrifice a relationship we forget that the sacrifice has already been made. When Christ died on the cross, he died for the sins of your friend, your co-worker, your family member, and your spouse. The sacrifice has already been made for that sin, which means that no other sacrifice is needed.

And that is what sets Christian relationships apart from worldly relationships. Because of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross, we are free to love and forgive one another even when we hurt one another. Why? Because we don’t have to bear the brunt of a person’s sin–Christ already has. A sacrifice has been made.

So in the same way that Christ has already died for every wrong that we will ever commit, Christ has done the same for the people in our lives. And in the same way that we have freedom in knowing that we’ve been forgiven, we shouldn’t punish the people around us for a sin from which Christ has already set them free. When we let the relationship die, it’s as if we’re saying that Christ’s sacrifice wasn’t enough.

That is not to say that we should immediately trust people who betray us, or that we should act as if nothing is wrong when we’ve been hurt, but it should keep us in check when we’re tempted to feel bitter, self-righteous, or simply distant. Don’t sacrifice your marriage, your friendships, or the unity of your church over sins for which Christ has already died. His sacrifice means healing and wholeness for the relationships in our lives, so make sure you’re not forfeiting that inheritance simply because of your pride.