Why Forgivness matters to Christians

Dr. Spencer R. Fusselman

In the heart of his letter to the Ephesian church, the Apostle Paul, a man intimately acquainted with chains and confinement, issues a plea that transcends the stone walls of his prison cell and echoes through the corridors of time. “I, therefore,the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you to walk worthy of the calling with which you were called, with all lowliness and gentleness, with longsuffering, bearing with one another in love, endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Ephesians 4:1–3). This is not merely a suggestion; it is a passionate appeal, a charge from a spiritual father to his beloved children. The gravity of this call rests upon one of the most crucial, yet often most overlooked, aspects of our faith: unity. It is the beautiful, fragile tapestry that, when woven correctly, displays the stunning wisdom of God to the world. Yet, when its threads are frayed and torn, it becomes a source of profound destruction and a tarnished testimony to the very One we claim to serve.
The path to this unity is not paved with human effort alone, but is grounded in the foundational truths of our shared identity in God. Paul masterfully lays this foundation, reminding us that our unity is not something we create, but something we are called to keep. He declares, “There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all” (Ephesians 4:4–6). This is the bedrock of our oneness. We are one body, a living organism animated by the Holy Spirit, where every member, with their diverse gifts, is indispensable for the functioning of the whole. We are infused with one Spirit, the very breath of God who seals us and empowers us. We share one hope, the glorious expectation of eternal life with Christ, a future that eclipses any present division. This singular hope fuels our one calling, the unified mission to be ambassadors of reconciliation in a broken world.
Central to this unified identity is the preeminence of “one Lord, Jesus Christ.” The question must echo in the chambers of our own hearts: Is He truly our Lord? Does He occupy the throne of our lives, or have we relegated Him to a position of a mere figurehead while we retain ultimate control? True unity is impossible until we individually and corporately surrender our crowns at His feet. When He is Lord, His desires become our desires. And what was the burning desire in the heart of Jesus for His followers? On the eve of His crucifixion, in the shadow of the cross, He poured out His soul to the Father. He did not pray primarily for their success, their influence, or even their miraculous powers. His prayer was a profound, repeated plea for their oneness. “I do not pray for these alone,” He cried, “but also for those who will believe in Me through their word; that they all may be one, as You, Father, are in Me, and I in You; that they also may be one in Us, that the world may believe that You sent Me” (John 17:20–21). The ultimate purpose of our unity is evangelistic; it is the most compelling evidence to a skeptical world of the Father’s love and the Son’s mission. Our divisions, therefore, are not just internal squabbles; they are a direct contradiction to the Savior’s final prayer and a stumbling block to the world’s belief.
This unity is anchored in the reality of “one God and Father of all, who is above all.” When we grasp the sovereignty and supremacy of God, our own personal kingdoms and petty grievances begin to shrink in significance. He is the ultimate authority, the source of all truth and the standard by which all things are measured. In order to walk in the unity He commands, we must first embody the humility He requires. This means cultivating a spirit of forgiveness, of willingly letting go of the hurts and hardships we have endured at the hands of our brothers and sisters. It demands that we “bear with one another,” patiently enduring imperfections and extending the same grace we have so lavishly received.
This is the very essence of love, as described in 1 Corinthians 13. “Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Corinthians 13:4–7). How often do we as Christians fall short of this beautiful standard? We allow rumors to poison our fellowship, we avoid seeking the truth with one another because the potential conflict is uncomfortable, and we prioritize keeping our own personal peace over the difficult, holy work of making peace. We retreat into our own corners, nursing our wounds and justifying our distance, all while the world watches our disunity and dismisses our message.
Are we truly walking in love? Are we clothing ourselves with lowliness and gentleness, actively striving to maintain the bond of peace that was purchased for us at the infinite cost of Christ’s blood? The call of the prisoner of the Lord is a call to every believer in every generation. It is a call to look beyond our personal preferences, our doctrinal nuances, and our painful histories. It is a call to see the face of our “one Lord” in the face of our brother and sister. It is a summons to the difficult, grace-fueled, and absolutely essential work of forgiveness and reconciliation. Let us, therefore, take up this endeavor with all our hearts, for in doing so, we not only walk worthy of our calling, but we also present to a watching world the irresistible beauty of a unified people, bound together in truth, and captivated by the love of the one God who is Father of all.