Of You It Is Required

Today I have jury duty. I don’t know why they keep bothering me. This is the third time I’ve been summonsed in 18 years of marriage, while my husband hasn’t had to go even once. But they always request my presence so sweetly: “If you do not appear for Jury Duty as instructed you could be found in contempt of court and fined up to $500 and serve up to 5 days in jail.” How could I say no to that?

Anyway, this post will be short, though I hope topically appropriate. Let’s start with a scripture:

“I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.” (D&C 64:10)

Why do I have to forgive everyone if the Lord doesn’t? Isn’t he supposed to be our exemplar? To a teenager, this would count as a parental double-standard somewhere along the lines of “Do as I say, not as I do.”

But perhaps it’s better described as “Practice makes perfect.” We’re required to forgive precisely because it’s hard for us. Forgiveness sounds like such a wonderful principle when we’re the ones suing for mercy. But when others hurt us, we may not feel too excited about cutting them the same slack.

The Lord, on the other hand, is ready and willing to forgive even the most serious sins:

“Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” (Isaiah 1:18)

Consider all the things God has to deal with: Could you forgive someone who persecuted your family, destroyed their homes, tortured and murdered your little ones? If the offenders were your children, would it be a simple matter of filial duty to forgive them for hating you when you love them, ignoring you when you try to help, refusing to even dignify your existence, and fomenting rebellion amongst their weaker brothers and sisters?

You might argue that it’s easy to forgive someone who is humbly begging your pardon and truly repenting. But in many instances, people don’t find it to be quite that simple—especially when the repentant sinner can’t possibly restore all that was lost. Besides, that argument entirely misses the point that the Lord already wants to forgive everyone. He pleads with us to repent, whatever our crimes may be. He’s so invested in the proposition that he paid for our sins even though he knew we wouldn’t all repent.

Our mortal forgiveness is partly about us learning to have the same generosity of heart toward sinners that the Lord possesses. His divine forgiveness is about something else—not relinquishing personal bitterness, since he has none. No, everything he requires of us—faith, repentance, obedience, etc.—is about one thing: bringing to pass our immortality and eternal life (Moses 1:39). He wants us to become like him, so we can be “heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ” (Romans 8:17).

And that takes practice. Lots and lots of practice.

***

In today’s poem, Wordsworth essentially asks if the number of combatants in a battle is all that matters, or can character and rightness of purpose make the difference? It reminds me of a verse from the hymn, Let Us All Press On: “We will not retreat, though our numbers may be few / When compared with the opposite host in view; / But an unseen power will aid me and you / In the glorious cause of truth.”

What If Our Numbers Barely Could Defy
by William Wordsworth

What if our numbers barely could defy
The arithmetic of babes, must foreign hordes,
Slaves, vile as ever were befooled by words,
Striking through English breasts the anarchy
Of Terror, bear us to the ground, and tie
Our hands behind our backs with felon cords?
Yields every thing to discipline of swords?
Is man as good as man, none low, none high?
Nor discipline nor valour can withstand
The shock, nor quell the inevitable rout,
When in some great extremity breaks out
A people, on their own beloved Land
Risen, like one man, to combat in the sight
Of a just God for liberty and right.