Susan was my best friend growing up. She lived across the street, and she was younger than I was by a whopping 8 months. Lording it over her was my secret pleasure.

When she played at my house, I made clear boundaries—no, she couldn’t play with Lena since she’d nibbled off her thumb. She could pet my kitty, if I petted her first. She could color at my desk, but only if she sat on exactly half my desk chair and colored the page I picked out.

Looking back, I was much too bossy, but she kept coming back day-after-day, never holding a grudge, always giving me a second chance to play nice. Part of the humbling I felt in her presence was that I couldn’t out-mean her ability to forgive. It was a puzzling thing, and it haunted me into my adult years. Why did she put up with me?

I saw her recently. She was warm and engaging, with kind eyes and ears. I’m still in awe of her heart that’s swallowed me up in forgiveness all these years. I haven’t kept up with her nearly enough to warrant her friendship.

That’s the thing about forgiveness. It’s all at once wonderful and awful. It draws us irresistibly in and shows us we don’t deserve it. If we let it, it can make us as beautiful as it is.

Obadiah

It’s a family feud that goes back as far as Jacob and Esau. The beef between those brothers was because Jacob tricked Esau out of his birthright and blessing. Esau’s descendants came to be known as Edom, while Jacob’s were known as Israel. Obadiah tells Edom they’re going to pay for their sins against Israel, because the bad blood between them has turned into bloodlusty revenge, Ob 1:10.

When Israel was overrun by Assyria, Edom laughed and celebrated. They helped Assyria round up the stragglers. They walked into Israel and gloated over their suffering. God said it was a big mistake not to care about their family members, and they’d pay for it, Ob 1:11-14.

God’s judgment day would come for all the “godless nations” who’ve mistreated his people. What Edom’s done “will boomerang back and hit [their] own head.” They may think they’re invincible, living high in the mountains, but God knows where they are, Ob 1:2-4, 15 MSG.

People will stream in from all over to claim Edom’s land. They’ll take their farms and foothills, all their land north and south. While Esau’s family will “drink and drink and drink” the cup of God’s wrath, Jacob’s family will find God to be “a safe and holy place,” Ob 1:15-18 MSG.

And when Israel returns from their exile in Assyria, they’ll rule over Edom, but here’s the twist I didn’t expect: they’ll “rule justly and fairly, a rule that honors God’s kingdom,” Ob 1:21 MSG.

Israel won’t retaliate. They won’t try to get even. Instead, they’ll give Edom just and fair treatment, behavior that makes God glad. They do what Jesus said—they love their enemies. It’s not a natural thing, to treat your abusers kindly, but that’s what happens when we leave them to God to deal with: he infects us with himself, Mt 5:44.

It’s only one little verse at the end of Obadiah, so it’s not what the rest of this book has been about. But maybe that’s why it packs such a punch. After all Israel suffers and all God does to avenge them, his people become the embodiment of Jesus and turn the other cheek.  It astonishes me what a little God-in-us will do.

It’s tempting to stab back when you’ve been wronged, or at least chew on the one who’s harmed you. Rehashing their wrongs, making them see the misery they’ve caused, replaying the insults you’ve endured can appeal to your desire for revenge.

But it makes life about competing for who’s on top while beating the other down. This isn’t what Jesus did.

Jesus went low. He served and suffered. And when he died and rose, he didn’t waste a moment pointing out how his friends had wronged him, much less the rest of the world. He kept giving and forgiving. Rather than shame them, he empowered them to forgive like he did.

We don’t become doormats when we return good for evil–we speak the truth in love as needed. But we don’t seek to make another pay or make them see or make them say the things we want them to. We entrust ourselves to how God will make them pay and see and say what’s needed. God’s in charge, and he’ll set them straight. Our work is to respond to them in a way that “honor’s God’s kingdom,” Ob 1:21 MSG.

Abused people tend to become abusive when they have the opportunity.  It’s natural; I’ve felt the tug myself. We have to repent and pray rigorously, so we don’t fall into the temptation to do what they did.  We have to forgive like Jesus did, because doing any less means we don’t understand our own forgiveness from him.

It’s been less than a week since my fr’enemy came and repented for their failure to forgive me for something I did 14 years ago. It was a beautiful outpouring of their sorrow over bitterness.

I was thunderstruck; thoughts and feelings of joy and sorrow and praise came and went, along with an “it’s about time” spirit. Uh, oh. As my fr’enemy talked, I had to keep repenting of inner impulses to feel snarky, to fix a perception, to wave my suffering for the lost years like a flag that made me better than them.

By the time we were done, we were both friendlier—and exhausted.

God takes enemies down, and then empowers us to treat them “justly and fairly,” rather than retaliate. Because of Jesus, good ultimately wins over evil around the globe as well as right in our own living rooms.

After all the generations who’ve lived and died since their ancestor’s insult, the Edomites are still eaten up with bitterness over it. It’s twisted them into a ruthless nation without pity for others. Their rage and resentment have turned them into wraiths, who viciously hash-and-rehash the past as fuel to torment.

Becoming like Jesus is an exquisite exchange of grievance for grace, and it brings beauty to our ash heaps.

Forgiveness looks like this.

Revelation 4

Everybody wants a little glory, if we’re honest. The status of being known for something grand or simply something good; the sense that we’re contributing and getting noticed. Have you ever wondered when our routine, day-to-day lives will give way to glorious ones?

John’s does in Revelation 4.

He sees four-faced animals flying around and hollering “Holy, holy, holy.” Holy folks with crowns fall off their thrones and on their faces, throwing their crowns before The Glorious and Ancient One. Lightning flashes, fire torches blaze, the sparkle of precious gemstones catch and reflect light all over ceiling and floor. The noise of thunder crashes and animal voices sound and resound with the holy ones who say, “Worthy, O Master! Yes, our God, take the glory, the honor, the power! You created it all!” Re 4 MSG.

God’s throne room is like nowhere I know on earth. It’s certainly not like the places where I talk to him—on a walk through the woods or sitting on my sofa. But this is where God abides, regardless of whether or not I see him like this. He’s majestic and supremely worshipped by heavenly hosts all the time.

Given all his deserved adoration, I’m all the more taken with his humility in sending Jesus as a human baby wrapped in skin, to grow up and hang out with working class fishermen. Love motivates the God of Glory to do some extraordinary things to connect with regular ol’ people. This is the glory of humility, and God shows it in Jesus, who came and loved lowly people.

At Christmas, I’m reminded of this Son who left his throne room of worship and toddled on baby feet to put on my shoes and save me. A humility like this should motivate me to get out of myself and incarnate love for somebody else, because love doesn’t stop emptying itself and reaching out.

Forgiveness looks like this.

Prayer

God, This snippet of glory from your heavenly realm is so far removed from the stable where you put your Son. Let your love move me to seek out lowly places, not grand ones, to forgive freely in the muck-and-mire of living, not dream about the heights I’d rather be climbing. I can’t do this, but you can. So please do.

In Jesus’ name.  

Proverbs 29:24-25

Making friends with bad guys sucks you into their drama with the cries and curses of their victims.

Fear of others’ opinions is a snare, but trusting in God springs you.

Passages in Obadiah, Revelation, and Proverbs are selected for today in The One Year Bible.