WHEN THERE’S NO “I’M SORRY”

By Gary Inrig

 

Auschwitz is a terrible place. The worst of the Nazi death camps, more than a million people lost their live there, under the most appalling conditions. It was created in 1940, under Hitler’s orders, to deal with people considered undesirable, such as Polish patriots and gypsies. When the Nazis launched their hellish “Final Solution”, a horrific attempt systematically to exterminate the Jewish people, it became their primary death camp. Even today, almost sixty years after its liberation, a palpable sense of evil hangs over the camp.

When he was fifteen, Elie Wiesel and his family were marched as prisoners through the gates of Auschwitz. They had been hauled there in cattle cars, along with other Jews from Romania. He never again saw his mother and younger sister; by the time he was liberated, fifteen months later, his father also had died. In 1995 Wiesel returned for the fiftieth anniversary of the liberation of the camp. The night before the official ceremony, Wiesel and others gathered at the crematorium for an unofficial ceremony, where Wiesel articulated his feelings:

Although we know that God is merciful, please God do not have mercy on those who have created this place. God of forgiveness, do not forgive those murderers of Jewish children here.

Do not forgive the murderers and their accomplices. Those who have been here…remember the nocturnal processions of children and more children and more children….If we could simply look at one, our heart would break. Did it not break the heart of the murderers? God, merciful God, do not have mercy on those who had not mercy on Jewish children.¹

Wiesel wasn’t merely speaking on his own. His words reflect ancient rabbinic teaching, found in the Talmud: “The Day of Atonement atones for sins against God, not for sins against man, unless the injured party has been appeased.”² Simply put, there is no forgiveness possible for a murderer or for something like the Holocaust. Only victims can forgive, and then only after repentance and restitution. Dead victims obviously can’t forgive their victimizers. If forgiveness is impossible, what do you do with the toxin building up inside you?

That is one extreme. On the other hand, we have people going around after a terrible act of evil, declaring the perpetrator “forgiven” before he has shown any remorse or the victims have been buried. In such cases forgiveness turns into a kind of automatic, immediate response that seems to trivialize the offense and minimize the profound hurt that has been inflicted on the victims.

Not long before she died in 1988, Marghanita Laski, one of the best-known secularists in England, said, “What I envy most about you Christians is your forgiveness; I have nobody to forgive me.”³ Christians are forgiven people because of the Lord Jesus Christ. And we are called and commanded to be forgiving people. That is hard under any conditions. But what if the offender does not, will not, or cannot repent? Do I forgive anyway? Doesn’t that merely encourage her in her sinning? That is anything but a theoretical question. Many offenders have no intention of either stopping or repenting. That is the issue we want to address here, and we will begin by turning to Jesus’ words that immediately precede the parable of the wicked servant in Matthew 18.

If your brother sins against you, go and show him his fault, just between the two of you. If he listens to you, you have won your brother over. But if he will not listen, take one or two others along, so that “every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.” If he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church, and if he refuses to listen even to the church, treat him as you would a pagan or a tax collector.

I tell you the truth, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.

Again, I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them (vv. 15-20).

 

Classic Forgiveness: When Forgiveness Meets Repentance

There is a close similarity between what Jesus says here and what is recorded in Luke 17:3-4. The repetition provides an opportunity for us to review the basic pattern of forgiveness set out by our Lord.

Forgiveness begins with the problem: We have been sinned against. Living in a fallen world means that each one of us has been sinned against, just as certainly as we all have sinned against others. The Lord makes it very clear that the issue is sin, not just a mistake, accident or misunderstanding. In Matthew 18:15 He says, “If your brother sins against you.” Sin is a violation of God’s standards, not merely something that upsets me or causes me problems. Not every issue requires formal forgiveness, and, therefore, forbearance is a primary Christian virtue. The “sin against you” suggests that this is an act that is serious enough to break or threaten a relationship. The later statement that you would “win your brother” suggests that a significant relationship was in danger of being lost.

Just as He had in Luke 17, the Lord here in Matthew 18 establishes the process. We must bring sin into the light. The Lord’s command could not be more clear. We are not to complain about the behavior to others or to stuff our feelings inside, making the best of a bad situation. We are to “go and show him his fault, just between the two of you” (v. 15). If this advice were followed, an immense number of problems would be dealt with before they reached the level of ugly, festering sores.

Not long ago a few of us were talking about some forgiveness issues, and a woman, obviously deeply hurt by an offense, mentioned a book she had been reading about forgiveness. She said, “I’ve learned that, whatever he’s done, I’m not supposed to talk about it to him, but to take it to the Lord and forgive him.” I felt constrained to quote this passage to her, and to remind her that for his sake, as well as for hers, she should not be silent. She needed to go to him and “show him his fault.”

We need to balance what the Lord says here with what He says in Matthew 5:23-24, where He sets out the other side of the coin: “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift.” So then, whether I feel that I have been sinned against or am convicted that I have done something wrong, I am to initiate a meeting with the other person. As Gregory Jones observes, “We need to seek out those against whom we have sinned and be willing to be sought out by those who have sinned against us.”⁴ The person who becomes aware of the breach in relationship is to take the initiative to deal with it.

The Greek word the Lord uses to describe this encounter, which the New International Version renders “show him his fault,” is particularly difficult to render into English. The word is the same one the Lord uses in John 16:8 to describe the work of the Holy Spirit: “When he comes, he will convict the world of guilt in regard to sin and righteousness and judgment” (emphasis mine). In such a context, the word describes the process of bringing facts into the light, not for the purpose of making someone feel guilty, but to make the issues clear. To “convict” is to be an act of love, not of animosity. This attitude is underscored by a passage in the Old Testament that encourages the same response, a passage that includes the statement that Jesus called the second “great commandment”:

Do not hate your brother in your heart. Rebuke your neighbor frankly so you will not share in his guilt.

Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord (Leviticus 19:17-18). 

In the same way, the New Testament encourages us to loving but firm confrontation: “Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently. But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted” (Galatians 6:1). 

The purpose of this encounter is repentance, restoration, and reconciliation. Matthew 18:15 continues, “If he listens to you, you have won your brother over” (more literally: you have gained your brother). David Augsburger notes the importance of the purpose: “For Jesus, this is the goal—the central focus, the true meaning of forgiveness. The primary issue is not inner peace for oneself, not moral rightness with one’s own conscience, not assurance of one’s own salvation.”⁵ This may not mean that everything instantly returns to the way it was before. Forgiveness may have been given, but trust needs time to grow.

 

Frustrated Forgiveness: When the process breaks down

“But if he will not listen” to you (v. 16) takes us to the second step. We are not told that we are to forgive him anyway, even if he refuses to repent. Nor are we just to forget the issue and move on, writing that person out of our lives. We are responsible not to give up; the next step is a group encounter, to “take one or two others along.”

There are probably several reasons for this. One is indicated by the statement, “A matter must be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.” This is an Old Testament legal principle (Deuteronomy 19:15), and it suggests the seriousness of what is taking place. The presence of several people is important. It enables the parties to clarify the issues; as they hear both sides, probe for the facts and the underlying issues, try to determine whether sin really is involved, whether the fault is shared or singular, and what future steps could be followed. The presence of a group also increases the pressure on the offender to deal with the problem and not just pass it off as a trivial issue. 

But “if the offender will not listen,” the offended person is, once again not just to forgive, forget, and move on. The Lord now calls us to “tell it to the church”.

We should not read this carelessly. The Lord Jesus has used the term church only once previously in Matthew (16:18), and as far as we can tell, He has given no instructions about what its organizational structure was to be. We should not infer that He intended such issues to be raised and discussed in a general congregational meeting. More likely, the church is portrayed as acting through the involvement of its elders or church leaders. Mature, seasoned leaders should hear the issues, protect the individuals, and come to a conclusion in a context of deep prayer and careful consideration. Their mandate is once again clear: repentance, restoration, and reconciliation. 

Even here the process may hit a dead end. Sadly I’ve observed that by the time an issue has reached this point, most people are entrenched in their positions. They are determined on their course of action and so refuse “to listen even to the church” (v. 17). If that is the outcome, church discipline is to be carried out: “treat him as you would a pagan or a tax collector.” 

Again, we need to read this carefully. First, this is the last step, the end of what is usually a long process, taken only when it is evident that the violator has hardened his or her heart. Second, Jesus never taught His followers to treat others, be they pagans, tax collectors, or anyone else, in an abusive way.… John MacArthur has wisely observed, “This is no license for hostility or contempt. In fact, Christ’s treatment of heathens and tax collectors is notable chiefly because of how He reached out to them in love. A similar kind of compassionate evangelistic pursuit should characterize our treatment of those who have been excommunicated in this manner.”⁶ This is a biblical act of tough love, a calling of kingdom people to kingdom standards in their relationships.

We are to forgive repentant offenders as fully and freely as possible. But we are not simply to forgive, forget, and move on when people refuse to repent. For the sake of both the offender and the offended, we are to pursue truth and a process of restoration. 

 

Unilateral Forgiveness: Letting go of the burden

So what now? I have sought to forgive, but the other person will not repent. She is blind to what she has done, despite what many others have said, and she steadfastly refuses even to consider admitting the wrong of her behavior.

Others must deal with the fact that their victimizers are unable to express repentance, perhaps because they have died or have a medical or mental condition or are confined to prison and legally prevented from making contact.

There are two common responses to such scenarios. Some suggest that we cannot, indeed must not, forgive, unless the person repents. There is strong logic in this, but it also leaves the offender in control. The wronged person is left carrying the load, waiting for the other person’s response while she fights a continual battle against bitterness.

Others give the opposite counsel. We are to forgive unconditionally and immediately, whatever has happened, simply because the Lord commands us to do so. I respect the sincerity of such a position, but it is not without significant problems. Is it, in fact, what Jesus requires? What about the clear call in the New Testament to confront sin and to work toward repentance?

Love is not blind. It must make a calculation about what its primary responsibility is in any situation. It would be a violation of God’s heart of just love to stand back and forgive perpetrators, while they are in the very act of ravaging another person. Yet, even in such situations, a believer is commanded to practice enemy love, to avoid repaying evil for evil, to avoid revenge, and to overcome evil with good (Romans 12:17-21). There is also an important distinction between the mandate God gives His people to “not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath” (Romans 12:19) and the responsibility of governmental authorities to act as “God’s servant, an agent of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer” (Romans 13:4). It is not only permissible, it is obligatory for a government to pursue evil doers with the intent of terminating their evil actions. That is involved in Paul’s affirmation that a political leader “does not bear the sword for nothing” (Romans 13:4). To forgo the pursuit of justice and the restraint of evil is to abdicate governmental responsibility. On the other hand, for an individual Christ-follower to pursue revenge or to dispense forgiveness indiscriminately is to abdicate the way of Christian love.

In the 1980s, as Solomon Schimmel tells the story, a nun in New York City was brutally raped by two men, who also cut seventeen crosses into her body with a nail file. The brutality outraged even a city as hardened to reports of violence as New York. However, the police found themselves handcuffed. Although they had found and arrested the perpetrators, they could charge them with only minor offenses. Although the men were obviously guilty, police could not charge them with rape and aggravated assault, because the nun, the only witness, refused to testify against them. She said that she had no desire for revenge and hoped that, by forgiving them, she would make them sensitive to their wrongdoing and motivate them to change their ways⁷

I am impressed by the love and courage of that nun. But I have serious questions about her wisdom. Had she called the men to repentance? Did she think about the other women who would be put at risk, if men capable of such atrocities were set free? What role does civil justice have in such matters?

Forgiveness, as we have seen, is intended to be an interpersonal and bilateral process, when a wronged person extends forgiveness to a person who has sinned against him, on the basis of the offender’s repentance. This is the only forgiveness that opens the possibility of reconciliation. But the Bible also suggests that, when attempts at interpersonal forgiveness have come to a dead end, a Christ-follower is not stymied. There is such a thing as personal or unilateral forgiveness, when the offended party lets go of an offense by giving it over to the Lord, and committing herself to act in love, regardless of the other’s response. Three passages are especially helpful in illustrating how we are to respond when there is no “I’m sorry.”

The first of these passages is Mark 11:25, which concludes a saying by the Lord about faith:

“Have faith in God,” Jesus answered. “I tell you the truth, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen, it will be done for him. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins” (vv. 22-25, emphasis mine).

When the Lord Jesus described the process of forgiveness in Matthew 18:15 and Luke 17:3-4, He envisioned an encounter between an offended person and the sought-out offender. However, this Mark 11 context is quite different. A believer is standing in prayer (a common Jewish prayer posture, whether in public or private), when he realizes that he is carrying something in his heart against his brother. Strikingly, he is not commanded to go to the brother and confront him with his sin. Rather, he is to forgive him (the Lord’s use of the word makes it clear that sin is involved), right where he is. This would seem to indicate that the procedure given in Matthew and Luke is no longer possible or has proven futile. Because the context is prayer, this is a vertical transaction, a releasing of the person and the matter to God. Apparently this form of forgiveness goes something like this: “Lord, this is now in your hands, not mine. I surrender any desire or attempt to get even in any way. I abandon any perceived right to bitterness and complaining. I entrust this person to you in your grace and justice. I will follow your command not to repay evil for evil and to overcome evil with good.” It is important to recognize that this takes place in a very different arena than that of interpersonal forgiveness. It is distinctive in that it is personal and internal, carried out between an individual and the Lord.

This subjective of personal forgiveness is substantially different from the declared, interpersonal forgiveness that is God’s ideal. And it should be noted that the latter is still the goal toward which we work and pray, so that full restoration is possible. But, in the meantime, while I wait, I release to the Lord any supposed rights endlessly to recycle feelings of anger, resentment, or bitterness; I commit myself to act in wise love (after all, I am called to love even my enemies, Matthew 5:44); I resign the effort to make sure the person pays for what was done; I choose to wait for the Lord’s vindication, whenever He chooses to settle all accounts (Romans 12:19). 

Such forgiveness, the Lord tells us, is key to our ongoing enjoyment of “family forgiveness,” “so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.” We have encountered this idea earlier, in the distinction between judicial forgiveness, which establishes our relationship with God, and family forgiveness, which enables our experience of fellowship with our Father.  Wayne Grudem elaborates on this idea, found not only here, but also in the Lord’s Prayer (Matthew 6:12, 14-15):

Our Lord does not have in mind the initial experience of forgiveness we know when we are justified by faith, for that would not belong in a prayer that we pray every day….He refers rather to the day-by-day relationship with God that we need to have restored when we have sinned and displeased him. In fact, Jesus commands us to build into our prayers a request that God forgive us in the same way that we have forgiven others who have harmed us (in the same “personal relationship” sense of “forgive”—that is, not holding a grudge or cherishing bitterness against another person or harboring any desire to harm them)….If we have unforgiveness in our hearts against someone else, then we are not acting in a way that is pleasing to God or helpful to us. So God declares (Matthew 6:12, 14-15) that he will distance himself from us until we forgive others.⁸

The second passage comes in the midst of the climactic moments of the Savior’s life, as He was being nailed to the cross. He had already experienced terrible physical abuse and had stumbled under the weight of the cross. He had been thrown to the ground and stripped naked; nails were driven through His wrists as He was fastened to the crossbeam. His Roman executioners roughly raised Him into the air, yanked His legs together, and drove nails through both ankles, impaling Him in agony. All the while the Jewish leaders led the rabble in an orgy of mockery and verbal abuse.

In this context the Savior spoke His first words from the cross: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34).⁹ His executioners, whether Jewish leaders or Roman soldiers, were, at that moment, in no way repentant. Some were callously indifferent; others were celebrating the success of their efforts to rid the nation of Him. Although they were ignorant of what they were really doing, their ignorance wasn’t innocence (or they would have had nothing to forgive). However, Jesus, rather than cursing His enemies, prayed for them just as He had taught His followers to do (Luke 6:35). 

I am impressed that here Jesus did not do what He had done on all the other occasions when He had forgiven someone. Previously, He had spoken directly to the individual, declaring, “your sins are forgiven” (Luke 5:20; 7:48). But from the cross, He prayed to the Father on their behalf, putting them in the Father’s hands. He did not ask the Father to avenge Him but to forgive them. This was not a blanket forgiveness, granted to people whether or not they wanted it. It would become theirs only as they came in repentant faith to see the cross in an entirely different way. Even as He prayed this grace-filled prayer, their hearts were untouched. The soldiers indifferently gambled for His garments, while “the rulers even sneered at him” (Luke 23:35). 

The third passage shows us that Stephen, the first Christian martyr, was deeply influenced by this example of his Lord. When he was called to account for his preaching of the good news of Jesus, he stood before his nation’s leaders, and, with great courage, called them to repentance because “You always resist the Holy Spirit!…And now you have betrayed and murdered [the Righteous One]” (Acts 7:51-52). Their response was exactly the opposite of repentance; “they were furious and gnashed their teeth at him” (v. 54). Imitating his Master, Stephen prayed, even as he was being stoned to death: “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” (v. 60). Once again, note that he did not say to his unrepentant killers, “I forgive you.” Rather, he entrusted them into his Father’s hands. He could not declare their forgiveness in the midst of their rebellion, but he could give them over to the Lord. Remarkably, one of the answers to his prayer was found in a man who was “giving approval to his death” (8:1). Saul, better known as the apostle Paul, would not only come repentantly to the Lord, but also become the Lord’s agent of forgiveness throughout the Mediterranean world.

In summary, not every case of interpersonal forgiveness is the same. The ideal is bilateral forgiveness, where an act of sin is followed by courageous confrontation on the part of the wronged person and sincere repentance on the part of the offender.  But, even when repentance does not immediately occur, an obedient Christ-follower does not abandon the process. He continues to pursue the offender, seeking his restoration. And when all efforts for the present have seemed to fail, he lets the issue go to the Lord in an act of unilateral forgiveness.

 

Some Good Lessons from a Bad Example

We have seen how the process ought to work. However, sometimes we learn best by looking at a bad example. Sadly, one of the Bible’s great men gives us a case study in how not to deal with the failures of others. David was a great king who had experienced God’s profound forgiveness. But when his own children engaged in a series of terrible acts against one another, David’s actions only made a bad situation worse. He illustrates what can happen when we don’t do forgiveness God’s way.

As we have continually seen, forgiveness means that we need to deal with sin honestly. True forgiveness holds people accountable for their behavior, and if we attempt to deal with sin by ignoring it or by only partly forgiving it, we will cause greater damage. God fully and freely forgave David’s sins—adultery with Bathsheba, followed by his arranged killing of Uriah—when David came to the place of confession. That forgiveness did not, however, cancel the tragic consequences that David had unleashed in his family. One of his sons, Amnon, raped his own half-sister, Tamar (2 Samuel 13:1-22). “When David heard all this, he was furious,” we are told (v. 21). But rather than confronting and punishing Amnon, David avoided him. In so doing, he failed as a man, as a father, and as a king. Such an act called for severe punishment—exile, imprisonment, or even capital punishment. David’s passivity was to yield a very bitter harvest. Tamar’s brother Absalom was infuriated at Amnon’s sin and David’s tolerance. He burned with a deep hatred toward his half-brother, but he bided his time. Two years later his anger came to full flame in a carefully planned execution-style killing of Amnon, his half-brother (13:23-33). David was once again filled with grief, this time not only for his dead son, Amnon, but also for his lost son Absalom, who had fled for his life into a neighboring country. “King David mourned for his son every day” (13:37). For three years Absalom lived in exile. Finally David’s general, Joab, persuaded David to allow Absalom to return. David agreed, but with a condition: “He must go to his own house; he must not see my face” (14:24). So Absalom’s sin was never challenged; David’s forgiveness was never offered, and reconciliation between the two was obviously never achieved. Absalom’s appeal is pathetic: “I want to see the king’s face, and if I am guilty of anything, let him put me to death” (v. 32). But when they did meet, David “kissed Absalom” (v. 33). It was an empty gesture, because the massive issue between them was never addressed. It was not forgotten. Absalom’s anger festered and grew until it erupted in a civil uprising, in which Absalom came very close to taking both his father’s throne and his life.

David’s story, as well as the Lord’s continued call for us to be forgiving people, is a reminder that we need to guard carefully against an unforgiving spirit. Anger can become a kind of security blanket to which we cling. Jeff VanVonderen observed,

For some people, unforgiveness serves a very practical purpose. One reason why people don’t or won’t forgive is because it is a way for them to have the upper hand over another; it holds the other in a position of owing a debt they cannot repay. And feeling held in a constant state of being unforgiven keeps some people scrambling to discover what good behavior it will take on their part to make up for what they have done. In a very real and devilish way, unforgiveness becomes an effective tool to control another’s behavior.¹⁰

Whatever David’s intentions, his response clearly didn’t work. Absalom’s response is a reminder that if people are left scrambling for too long, their hearts may harden, and scrambling will become retaliating.

 

Laying down the load

In the final analysis, the call of the Lord is that we need to let the issue go to Him. We need to put the person and the problem into the Lord’s hands. Some years ago my wife and I were visiting friends at their beautiful lakeside vacation home. Elizabeth was deeply troubled by the way she believed some other people had mistreated me, people who steadfastly refused to imagine that they had done anything wrong. She believed she had dealt with her feelings, but her faithful friend listened to her conversation and finally called her on her attitude: “You’re still angry.”

“No I’m not. I’ve let it go.”

“Then why do you keep talking to me about it over and over? You’re carrying a load of rocks.”

They stopped at a spot on the road, and Shirley said, “I want you to collect some rocks, write the names of those people on them, and throw them into the lake.” They did just that, not as a symbol that she was throwing away those people but that she was giving them over to the Lord, releasing once again her feelings of anger and bitterness.

That simple act had a powerful effect on my wife. Since then she has had the opportunity to walk with other women through a similar ritual.

Recently I preached a sermon on the Mark 11 text, in which I tried to unravel how we should deal with people who will not or cannot say, “I’m sorry.” At the end of the message, I asked people to write on a card any names the Holy Spirit had brought to their minds—what could be called “Mark 11:25 people.” Some might be guilty of terrible sins against you—but they will not own their sin. Others might have died, but the effects of their sin linger. What do we do with such people? I then said, “If you feel so moved by God’s Spirit, bring the cards bearing those names to the front as we sing a worship song together, as a symbol that you are giving that person and that issue to the Lord.” It was moving to watch hundreds of people come forward, some with deep emotion. I knew only a few of the stories, but I also knew that for many it was a profound moment of worship before their forgiving God.

Now I am not so naive as to believe that writing a person’s name on a card is all that it takes to let go of the deep wounds of a person’s soul. But I do know that the Lord longs for His people to develop a disposition to forgive rather than to retaliate, to release rather than to hold onto wrongs done to us. It is only a place to begin, but that first step is often the most important. So I want to challenge you to consider whom the Lord has brought to your mind as you have been reading these pages. What is the most God-honoring way to proceed from here? How will you release that wrong, no matter how deep, to your Lord? †

 

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Taken from Forgiveness, © 2005 by Gary Inrig. Used by permission of Discovery House Publishers, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49501. All rights reserved.

 

Endnotes

1. “God of Forgiveness, Do Not forgive.” Retrieved March 3, 2003, from www.wujs.org.il/activist/programmes/tekasim/shoah/elie_wiesel.shtml.
2. Mishnah Yoma 8:9.
3. Cited in John Stott, The Contemporary Christian (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1992), 48.
4. L. Gregory Jones, Embodying Forgiveness (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 186.
5. David Augsburger, The New Freedom of Forgiveness, 3rd ed. (Chicago: Moody Press, 2000), 25.
6. John MacArthur, Jr. The Freedom and Power of Forgiveness (Westchester, Ill.: Crossway, 1998), 152.
7. Solomon Schimmel, Wounds Not Healed by Time (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 61.
8. Wayne Grudem, Systematic Theology (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1994), 369.
9. Although nearly all translations of the New Testament contain this verse, it should be noted that it is missing from a number of early and reliable manuscripts. But strong internal evidence and the parallel to Acts 7:60 support its inclusion.
10. Jeff VanVonderen, Families Where Grace Is In Place (Minneapolis: Bethany House, 1992), 28.