The Freedom of Forgiveness

Our family lived on Long Island, just outside of New York City, for several years. And one day, something terrible happened not far from where we lived.

On March 13, 1989, on Horton Avenue in Valley Stream, Richard and Victoria Tinyes became concerned that their thirteen-year-old daughter, Kelly Ann, had not come home for dinner. Later that evening, the Tinyes family began a frantic door-to-door search throughout their neighborhood, trying to determine if anyone had seen their daughter or might know of her whereabouts.

One neighbor told them that he had seen Kelly Ann knocking on the door of another neighbor’s house that afternoon. When approached by the Tinyes, the people who lived in that house, John and Elizabeth Golub, said they had not seen Kelly at all that day. They claimed that the other neighbor must have been mistaken.

Two more days passed. Kelly Ann was still missing and everyone began to fear the worst. A discrepancy in the Golub’s story prompted the Nassau County police to obtain a warrant to search the Golub’s house. While they were searching the basement, the police found Kelly Ann’s naked body in a closet, stuffed in a plastic garbage bag.

An autopsy revealed that Kelly Ann had been raped, beaten, and finally stabbed to death. The police indicted the twenty-one year old son Robert Golub for second degree murder.

The evidence against Robert was overwhelming. It included DNA matching of blood and skin samples that were taken from under Kelly Ann’s fingernails, as well as the matching of a bite-mark on Kelly Ann’s body with his dental records. Robert Golub was found guilty of second degree murder and was sentenced to 25 years to life in prison.

As harrowing as this story is, it was only the beginning of an ongoing tragedy that was to unfold in that quiet neighborhood over the next few years. As they grieved over the murder of their daughter Kelly Ann, Richard and Victoria Tinyes began to develop an intense hatred toward the entire Golub family. They began to harrass and attack the Golubs every chance they got. The Golubs retaliated.

Over the next few years, the Golubs and Tinyeses were to appear in court over two dozen times to file harassment charges against each other. Angry curses and acts of petty meanness flew between the two families. One day in frustration, John Golub even rammed his car into a vehicle driven by Richard Tinyes. The feud poisoned the whole neighborhood, forcing the neighbors to choose up sides.

In a New York Newsday article five full years after the murder, Richard Tinyes told reporters “I hate that entire family, and I will do everything in my power to drive them out of this neighborhood.”

The terrible irony of this story is that, while the courts put the murderer in jail, the families of both he and his victim sentenced themselves to a lifetime in a different kind of prison. They literally became chained to the tragedy. They built walls of bitterness around themselves, and became unable to break the bonds of despair that shackled them.

That’s what happens when we choose not to forgive.

I want to talk to you today about a subject that comes very close to the core of where we live. It’s the subject of what we do and how we respond when we are wronged, when we are hurt, when we are injured by the people in our lives. It is the subject of forgiveness.

The Bible has much to say about forgiveness, because forgiveness is at the very center of our relationship with God. It is the means by which God reaches out and brings us back into fellowship with Him. Forgiveness is the expression of God’s character. And when forgiveness happens in our relationships with each other, we are actually modeling an attribute of God in our lives.

I would like you to turn in your Bible to Luke 15 for a classic biblical illustration of forgiveness. There are three characters in this story:

• a young man who sinned grievously

• a father, who forgave graciously

• an older brother, who refused angrily to forgive

I’d like us to look at each of these characters. Let’s pick up the story at verse 11.

“There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them. Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living.”

Let’s stop there for a moment and think about what this young man had done.

In the patriarchal culture of that day, this son’s actions were a “worst case” scenario. Disrespect doesn’t even come close to describing what this son did. When he asked his father for his share of the estate, what he was saying in effect was “Dad, I wish you were dead. I want your money. I don’t love you. I’m not interested in having a relationship with you; I just want whatever material benefits you can give me.”

And then, when he got the money, he took off. He didn’t care about his father. He didn’t care that his father might need him in his old age. He didn’t care about his family. He didn’t even care about his homeland, because he went to a far country. He turned his back on his family, on his heritage, and on his roots. And when he got to the far country, he proceeded to blow his inheritance on wild living. He showed no respect for the values of his father; no respect for the hard work of his father in accumulating that inheritance. He just blew it all away. He wasted it.

Now look at verse 14. Jesus continues the story…

“After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.”

This young man’s life of sin had reduced him to the status of a nobody. He had nothing; nobody cared about him; no one gave him anything. Even the pigs were better off than he was. But then something profound happens in the next sentence…

“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.’ So he got up and went to his father.”

Now let’s look at the father in v. 20…

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.”

I want you to notice four things about the father.

1. He saw his son while he was still a long way off. Why? Because he was looking for him. A day didn’t go by when this father had not prayed for his son, thought about his son, wished that his son were home again. Every day this father would look down the road to the horizon, hoping against hope that that familiar figure with that familiar walk would appear in the distance. Because in his heart, the father had already forgiven his son.

And that’s where forgiveness begins. It begins as a decision that you make in your heart before God. This father’s forgiveness was not dependent upon a certain set of circumstances. It was not dependent on his son coming home and saying he was sorry. It was not dependent on his son paying back the money he had blown.

No, the matter of forgiveness was already settled. The battle of forgiveness was already won. Forgiveness was a choice that this father had made in his own heart.

Is that a heart choice that you are willing to make toward the people who have hurt you?

If you forgive someone, it doesn’t automatically make the hurt go away. No, the hurt will still be there, and certain things will trigger the painful memories, and you’ll need to go back and do the work of forgiveness all over again. But if you determine to forgive, God will take that hurt and transform what was once a scar into a beautiful life message that He’ll use to bring blessing to others.

2. The father was full of compassion for his son. There was no debate in this man’s mind as to what he would do if his son showed up. No question of how stern he should be, or what punishment to exact. He didn’t say “You hurt me once and I’m not sure I’m willing to let you do it again.” No, he was full of compassion. His focus was not on his own pain but on what was best for his son.

3. He ran to his son. That’s a detail that we skip right over. But believe me, in Jesus’ day, that’s a detail that would have shocked everyone. Why? Because in those days, and in many ways it is still true today in Middle Eastern culture, the faster you move, the less dignity you have. Running is something for servants, not patriarchs.

So for this father to run, it shows how eager he is to forgive. He lays aside his dignity as the head of that family. He is unconcerned about appearances because he is so overjoyed to see his son again.

4. He embraced his son. He threw his arms around him and kissed him. Not what you would call a “cool reception”! Keep in mind that this boy had been feeding pigs and probably smelled like a homeless person. The father showed by his very body language that he accepted him and welcomed him and forgave him.

The father’s actions were gracious and compassionate. He was reaching out to his son with warmth and love. He forgave his son. And he threw a party!

Now look at the reaction of the older brother in verse 25…

“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’

The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’”

Something that is often overlooked about this story is that there are really two prodigal sons here. One of them made his rebellion obvious by leaving home. But the other son, although he stayed home, rebelled inwardly against his father. The older son was compliant and obedient in the performance of his duties. But his heart was far from his father’s. And his younger brother’s actions brought all of that out in the open.

It is often true that the sins of other people reveal the true condition of my own heart. When I respond to someone else’s sin with anger, condemnation, harshness, and judgment, I’m just revealing what lies in my own heart.

I want you to notice three things about the older brother:

1. He didn’t go to his father for an explanation of what was happening. He asked a servant instead. He got the story second hand. If he had gone right to his father, perhaps he could have seen firsthand the miracle of grace that was happening. But instead, he went to a servant. And after he heard the report of the servant, he made up his mind as to what his response was going to be.

When we are injured, when we are hurt, the first place we need to go is to our heavenly Father. Because it is only in the presence of the Father that we can get our eyes off our own hurts and begin to feel compassion for the person who hurt us. It is only there that we can get the divine grace that we need to forgive.

2. He became angry and broke off fellowship, not only with his brother, but with his father as well. It says in v. 28 that he “refused to go in”. And the only reason that he had any further communication with his father was that his father came out of the house to plead with him. Here is the father seeking out the other prodigal son, pleading with him to come home also.

When someone sins, I have a choice to make. I can forgive that person and be free in my spirit, or I can choose to condemn that person and break off fellowship and build a wall against that person. And when I do that, I literally sentence myself to life in prison.

Archibald Hart has defined forgiveness as giving up my right to hurt you for hurting me.

When I refuse to give up that right; when I refuse to forgive, when I try to exact punishment instead, I put myself in the place of God. It is God’s job to punish sin, not mine. “Vengeance is mine; I will repay” says the Lord. I need to understand that God is a much better justice-maker than I am.

3. He became hostile and disrespectful toward his father. Look at what he says to his father in verse 29-30…

“Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!”

Can you hear the hostility, the disrespect? This son did not understand the nature of his father’s love for him. He thought that it was based on his performance. In fact, he understood his own worth in terms of his own performance. He was keeping score.

And he became enraged that his father would have the audacity to let his younger brother off. Not only that, but to actually reward him for coming home. Do you sense the self-righteousness of the older brother? Do you sense his hard pride? Do you sense his contempt for both his brother and his father?

Thomas a Kempis said: “It will not hurt you at all to consider yourself less righteous than others, but it will be disastrous for you to consider yourself better than even one person.”

The choice to forgive is a choice that I must make in order to stay connected with my father’s warm heart. Jesus taught us to pray in the Lord’s prayer: Forgive us our trespasses, even as we forgive those who trespass against us.

But if I fail to forgive, I will reap devastating consequences in my own life. I will become bitter, angry, and depressed. Someone has said that the prison cell of unforgiveness is only big enough for one. No one will want to follow me into my world of bitterness and disappointment. The walls of unforgiveness keep me confined to my past, and keep me from building new relationships. And after years of living in bitterness, my soul will become numb. My world will shrink to the space behind the bars.

There were three people in this story:

• a son who sinned grievously

• a father who forgave graciously

• a brother who refused angrily

Which one are you?

There was a man who owned an auto body shop. His name was Joey. One day, a pretty teenaged girl came to his shop to get minor repairs done on her convertible. Her name was Amy. Even though she was just seventeen and he was in his thirties, Amy and Joey became attracted to each other. Over the next few weeks, their flirting got out of hand, and they found themselves involved in an affair.

As she became more and more involved with Joey, Amy began to hate and resent the fact that Joey was a married man. She determined that she was going to do something about that. So one day, she drove her convertible up to the Buttafuoco house, rang the doorbell and when Mary Jo Buttafuoco answered the door, Amy shot her in the face with a 9 mm handgun.

The shot did not kill Mary Jo, but part of her face was blown away. Amy Fisher was arrested for attempted murder. When the details of her affair with Joey became public, the NY media went wild. They dubbed Amy the “Long Island Lolita”. The photographers and reporters at her trial were like sharks in a feeding frenzy. The story became the basis for several television movies.

Amy was sentenced to 15 years in prison, with the possibility of parole after 7 years. Joey was given 6 months in prison for being involved with an underaged minor.

Amidst all of this uproar, Mary Jo had to undergo extensive reconstructive surgery on her face. Somehow, the Buttafuoco’s marriage remained intact. And when the glare of the publicity faded and the reporters had all gone away, a quiet miracle began to occur.

Mary Jo began to write letters to Amy Fisher in prison. In those letters, she forgave Amy for what she had done to her. Even though every time Mary Jo looked in the mirror, she was reminded of how painfully her whole life had been changed, she somehow, with God’s help, decided to forgive.

Last month on Long Island, at the Nassau County Courthouse, having served 7 years of her sentence, Amy had her first parole hearing. And at that hearing sat Mary Jo Buttafuoco. It was the first time that the two women had seen each other since that awful day 7 years before. Mary Jo smiled across the courtroom at Amy - a slightly crooked smile because of what had happened to her face - but a sincere smile nonetheless. Amy, with tears in her eyes, smiled back.

And the judge recommended that Amy Fisher be released on parole, in part because she had been a model prisoner, but in part because Mary Jo had written the judge a letter recommending it. And when Amy was led out of the courtroom, she passed by where Mary Jo was sitting. And the two women reached out their hands, and their fingers brushed for just a moment.

And that is how one person’s decision to forgive gave two people their lives back.

Someone has said “When I forgive, I set a prisoner free, only to discover that the prisoner was me.”