Hate the Sin, Love the Sinner

Today, we are scheduled to learn about how hatred prevents us from forgiving as we continue with our series, Removing the Roadblocks to Forgiveness. Recent events in my life have really helped me to put into practice an important concept: we can hate the sin that someone carries out to hurt us, but we must still love the sinner.

Matthew 5:43-44 (NIV) reads, "You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." This is a very difficult thing to do, and we may not be able to love our enemies as much as God does. But, we must try.

Our family had an opportunity to learn more about this concept yesterday, because we went to court for my father's sentencing in the case of his molesting my daughter. As a family, ten of us felt very united when we went into the courtroom. We had spent the day before together, talking about the upcoming court appearance and praying for God to use it for everyone's good.

Confrontation is never easy.
On the way to the courthouse, my stomach began churning. When we pulled into the parking lot, I felt as if I might vomit. My hands became clammy, and my knees began to shake. As we were walking in, my sister described these same feelings. I felt better, knowing that I was not alone with my fears. Confrontation of this magnitude is never easy, but we knew that the time had come for justice to do its work.

The Enemy wants us to give up.
My father and mother sat down alone on the opposite side of the courtroom. No one in the family spoke to my parents, and there was so much tension in the room, you could have cut it with a knife. Our daughter burst into tears, and we all rallied around her to pray for her strength. Within minutes, the spiritual turmoil abated.

God provides models for us.
As we waited, several other cases were heard. A young woman in an orange prisoner's uniform was brought in by the sheriff's deputy. Her head had been shaved. As she was charged with stealing someone's debit card, she hung her head and listened to the judge's explanation of her sentence. At the end of her hearing, she said that she was really sorry for what she had done. It had hurt her victim, she had lost her children, and she had made a mess of her life with some really bad decisions involving drugs. Through her example, we all saw what appeared to be genuine regret.

A second woman was brought in, also wearing the orange uniform, with purplish hair that streamed past her waist. She had been in trouble many times before. During the short time that she was held in jail, pills had been discovered hidden on her person. Her husband appeared, who also had a history of criminal conduct. She claimed to be innocent, and her husband signed an affadavit to promise repayment of her bond money. By this example, we had a pretty good idea that this woman was not yet capable of accepting responsibility for her actions or changing her behavior.

In spite of the differences in these women's attitudes regarding their crimes, I prayed for them both. I learned later that the rest of the family had been praying for them, too. While we waited, I wondered if my father would exhibit the contrition displayed by the woman with the shaven head or the defensiveness of the one with the long purplish hair.

How do we know if an apology is sincere?
It came time for my father to speak. He turned to all of us. He said he was sorry for what he had done to our daughter. Then he apologized to the family as a whole. He followed his apology with the statement, "I don't know what made me do it." Then he shrugged and gave us all an incredibly stupid look, as if he were clueless and completely free of all responsibility for his actions. In that instant, I knew that his apology meant little. Later, the entire family agreed that 'the shrug' negated every word that our father had spoken.

The enemy will lie to preserve himself.
As the hearing progressed, the defense attorney tried to make the family look guilty by reading a portion of a letter that one of us had written. He told the judge that neither my father nor my mother had spoken any of the statments contained in the letter, in spite of the fact that a court employee had overheard these words a month earlier. This tactic served to drive the family further from believing the sincerity of our father's apology.

Speaking the truth in love is difficult.
We all had the opportunity to tell the judge how my father's actions had hurt our family. Only my ex-husband and my son chose to speak. My ex spoke eloquently about the losses that our daughter experienced as a result of my father's molesting her. At times, tears interfered with his ability to continue. I could see that both the judge and the bailiff felt the pain that we had all endured over the years.

Our courageous son talked about the court's duty to uphold the tenets of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. As a former Marine, he pointed out that my father, a veteran of the Coast Guard, had failed to uphold the same promise our son had made to the military to carry out the laws of our constitution.

Our son also revealed to the court that I had gone to my parents prior to my divorce 13 years ago to tell them that I suspected my daughter had been molested. At that time, my father said absolutely nothing about what he had done and allowed my ex-husband to take the blame for my father's molestation of my daughter. The look on the judge's face as these facts were revealed foretold what was ahead for my father.

There are consequences for our actions.
The judge was wonderful, explaining in great detail how he weighed the evidence to determine the sentence. In my father's favor, the judge considered his age, his claims regarding his remorse, and his recent psychotherapy.

In our daughter's favor, the judge considered the breech of trust created by her grandfather's behavior, her age at the time of the crime, and the fact that my father bypassed opportunities in the past to admit his guilt. Allowing another man to take the blame for his actions caused the judge to reconsider the validity of my father's apology.

My father's sentence turned out to be: 3 years in prison, 5 years of probation afterward, and 25 years as a registered sex offender. In addtion, he was ordered to pay for 5 years of psychotherapy for our daughter. At the conclusion of the hearing, the prosecutor recommended filing a civil suit to acquire additional funding to cover up to 20 years of psychotherapy for our daughter.

We hate the sin, but our hearts break for the sinner.
When the judge ordered my father into the custody of the county jailer, Dad stood to allow the deputy to handcuff him. My niece burst into tears, and the deputy led my father away. I felt such a profound sense of loss, I could not even cry. I felt stunned, trying to understand how it was possible that this man, whom everyone believed to be a warm, loveable teddy bear, was capable of committing such heinous crimes without a hint of genuine remorse.

We hate the sin, and we pray for the ability to love the sinner.
Throughout the hearing, my mother sat alone on the opposite side of the courtroom. No one was willing to talk to her or comfort her. While my father molested children all of his life, my mother had verbally and emotionally abused most of us. We were more terrified of her reaction in court than anything else, and we had prayed for God's protection during the proceedings.

Over the past year, my mother has stuck up for my father, lied for him, villified us, and ignored our needs for understanding and comfort. In her typical fashion when confronted with a crisis, she stuck out her chin and sat ram-rod straight in the courtroom. When the sentence was pronounced, she wiped away a few tears, but otherwise remained stiff-necked. Not one person felt God calling them to go to her to offer comfort.

Oddly, when we left the courtroom, I glanced in the direction where my mother had been sitting. I didn't see her there and was relieved that I would not have to confront her. It was only later that I learned she had never moved from her seat until after we all left. I believe that God made her invisible to me in that moment to protect me.

I hate my father's sin, as well as my mother's. It is actually easier for me to pray for my father than it is for my mother. My father was always easy to love; my mother was not. I recognize this and pray that God will give me the ability to love my mother and merely hate her sins.

Justice brings limited relief.
We all went to lunch together after the hearing to talk about the day's events. Everyone agreed that my ex-husband and our son had tipped the scales in our daughter's favor when it came time for sentencing.

We felt that the judge had been fair and particularly kind, especially when he spoke directly to our daughter. He had reassured her that she bore no guilt for my father's crimes, and that reporting the incidents had taken great courage. He commended our family for the love and support that we all share for our daughter.

But in the end, justice brings only limited relief. We all came away with a burden of grief that felt so heavy, we could barely function. I felt as if we had attended a funeral. Joe said he felt as if he hadn't slept for days. Our daughter told us that she was incredibly sad, because she hated to see her grandpa going off to jail. She hated the sin, but she still loved the sinner.

Thank you for your prayers.
I would like to thank all of you for your prayers yesterday. In spite of the turmoil, I felt strangely peaceful through it all.

Today's Challenge
In your journal, write down the name of your enemy who has hurt you. Write down what action he took to cause you pain. Under his name, write sinner. Under his action, write the word sin. If you are feeling hatred for this person, begin today to understand that Jesus calls us to hate the sin, not the sinner.