Matthew 12:22-37 "Beyond Forgiving" Scott Hoezee

Currently the word "castaway" conjures up the image of actor Tom Hanks sitting on a deserted island talking to his volleyball in the recent hit movie Cast Away. But in English literature "The Castaway" is a poem written by a man who wrote a couple of other works which many of us know quite well. The poet in question is William Cowper, and the reason some of us know Cowper's work is because two of his hymns are in the Psalter Hymnal. "God Moves in a Mysterious Way" and "Oh, for a Closer Walk with God" were both penned by William Cowper in the late eighteenth century. At that time Cowper, along with people like "Amazing Grace" author John Newton, was one of the leading hymn writers who contributed to a religious revival which was going on in England at the time.

But although Cowper's hymns usually end on a note of gospel reassurance and hope, Cowper's own life was an insane mess. There is no question that Cowper was mentally ill, suffering from either schizophrenia or bi-polar disorder. On at least two occasions he tried to commit suicide--in fact, his second major attempt to kill himself came right after he finished composing "God Moves in a Mysterious Way."

The principal thing which again and again drove Cowper to the emotional brink was his damning conviction that he had committed the unpardonable sin. He was convinced that he had inadvertently blasphemed against the Holy Spirit and so was doomed. "The Castaway" was Cowper's last poem, written shortly before his death in 1800. In this poem Cowper used the image of a sailor washed overboard during a storm as a metaphor for his own relationship to God. Cowper concluded this dark poem by comparing his spiritual fate to the physical fate of a real-life sailor who had indeed died at sea: "No voice divine the storm allayed, No light propitious shone / When snatched from all effectual aid, We perished, each alone; / But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelmed in deeper gulfs than he."

Cowper's illness makes him an unusual case but he is not the only person in history who has entertained fears about this. Jesus appears to have mentioned this sin just once, though one version or another of Jesus' words are recorded in Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Jesus may have mentioned it just one time but the rest of the world since then has never stopped talking about this most chilling prospect: a sin that is beyond forgiving.

Images of guilt-wrecked people who fear they have committed this sin pepper literary works, including Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress and Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter. In common parlance even today the phrase "the unpardonable sin" is sometimes invoked to describe someone's over-reaction. "Well you don't have to be that upset! You act like I committed the unpardonable sin or something!!" A few of us in this room have perhaps personally known or heard of someone who, like William Cowper, lost sleep over the nagging worry that sometime in a moment of distraction, abandon, or rebellion he may have lapsed into something so bad, even God won't cure it with the gospel medicine of grace.

What are we to make of this apparent exception to the gospel rule that grace forgives all? Is it something to fret over? To answer those questions we will want to examine the story in which Jesus' famous words are nestled. But in so doing we may also come to see the good news that emerges from the very same verses where people like William Cowper have in times past discovered only bad news.

In one sense the story we read from Matthew 12 is a pretty straightforward example of something which pops up with regularity in the gospels; namely, Jesus' getting criticized by the Pharisees. But in this case the stakes seem higher, the rhetoric from both sides seems harsher, and the conclusion, therefore, seems darker. Jesus casts out a demon and, as part of their abiding efforts to discredit Jesus, the Pharisees respond with a version of the old "It takes one to know one" argument. "Of course Jesus can deal with demons," they sneer, "he's one of them! Jesus is on familiar turf when it comes to demons because he already speaks their language, knows their secret handshakes, is familiar with all their ceremonies and tricks. But that's because he's a member of their club to begin with!"

Probably none of us has ever been accused of being demonic. Probably no one in this sanctuary this morning has ever been consigned to the category of Satan's little helper. So it's hard to know how you would respond were such a thing ever really said of you. But maybe we could guess how we might respond if we recall other occasions when someone spoke critically about us. Has anyone ever alleged something untrue about you? Maybe it was a decision that was made at work or some suggestion you once made at a PTA meeting at your child's school. And maybe you later caught wind of the fact that someone was spreading the rumor that the reason you did this or that is because you are an egotistical and self-important person wantonly pursuing your own agenda.

Well, if you hear such a rumor, you are at first wounded deeply but that sense of hurt is often followed quickly by a flash of anger. Your first inclination is to shout out, "That's not true!" followed perhaps by a defense of your true motives and character. That is how we react even in comparatively typical situations of rumor, innuendo, and character assassination. So just imagine if someone really did call you the devil himself!

Yet that's exactly what happens to Jesus but even so his first response is no more than cold logic! He does not begin by defending himself--initially he does not even mention himself at all! Instead Jesus as much as says, "Hmmm . . . interesting thought. But you know, it's an illogical argument. No kingdom which fights against its very self can last long! A house divided cannot stand. Why would Satan chase Satan around? Why would a devil rough up his own henchman? That would be like the players on the Detroit Lions purposely scoring points for the Chicago Bears--no team can win a game that way!"

Strikingly, Jesus at first does no more than point out the logical flaws in the Pharisees' claim. But perhaps he can be so calm precisely because he is operating from a position of strength. Perhaps Jesus responded the way he did because of his conviction of the next thing he said: if it's not the devil giving the demons a rough time, there is but one other alternative, spiritually speaking, and that is the shining truth that it is God doing this work!

Actually, the idea that it is God fighting the devil (and not the devil fighting himself) should be patently obvious to anyone who takes the time to think about the situation. Maybe that also is why Jesus began with sheer logic. The Pharisees are very well aware of the true spiritual dynamics at work. The Pharisees are not simply mistaken here--they are willfully engaging in an illogical but pre-meditated attack on God himself! So Jesus goes on to say, "You can be forgiven for anything and everything--that's how gracious God is. But if you willfully, purposely, and with malice aforethought speak against the Holy Spirit who is at work in me, then you will not be forgiven. Ever."

What is the essence of this blasphemy? What could make it so bad as to be beyond the pale of forgiveness in a way that even murder, incest, racism, child abuse, hatred, and adultery apparently are not? Pontius Pilate who condemned Jesus, the soldiers who drove the nails through Jesus' flesh, and even the passersby at the cross who jeered and poked fun of God's Son could be forgiven--Jesus directly requested their forgiveness from the cross! All those terrible things can be forgiven, so what makes this blasphemous sin different?

Those of you familiar with the Godfather series of films may recall the single most chilling scene in a series riddled with many horrors. As the stories progress, it becomes evident that the mafia don Michael Corleone will never forgive anyone who betrays him. But the true test of his vengeful, unforgiving Sicilian spirit comes when his dim-witted brother Fredo inadvertently betrays his brother and nearly gets him assassinated. Fredo is penitent, deeply sorry. It was all a mistake and so through tears Fredo begs for forgiveness. But in the mafioso code by which Michael lives betrayal is beyond forgiving. So in a marrow-chilling scene Fredo is murdered on the order of his own brother.

Few things disturb us more than unforgiving, vengeful people. If you have ever wanted to be forgiven by someone who refuses to accept your repentance--someone who won't even look at you or give you a chance--then you know how ugly that feels. So how can we picture the God of all grace refusing to forgive? Well, perhaps we are picturing this from the wrong side. Perhaps it is wrong to picture God as coldly turning away someone begging for forgiveness. Because maybe what makes the unpardonable sin beyond forgiving is primarily the fact that those guilty of such blasphemy will never even ask to be forgiven.

Because the essence of blasphemy is chalking up the work of God as something evil. It is looking the Holy Spirit full in the face and calling him the devil. It is refusing to accept the best God has to offer because you deem it to be unholy, bad, some kind of poison instead of the elixir of grace it really is. At its core blasphemy is a form of theft. Profane people steal the name of God or the name of Jesus and then twist those holy names into curses, swear words. Sometimes on TV when an FBI surveillance tape is played, you may hear some announcer saying, "In the following recording the expletives have been deleted." Expletives deleted. One of those expletives is often the name "Jesus" on the lips of people invoking the Name above all names as a curse. Expletives deleted. Jesus deleted. That's what blasphemy does: deletes God and his grace, eclipses from sight the love we all need.

The devil is behind all such profaning mischief with just one goal in mind: namely, to deprive God of the opportunity to communicate his love and salvation to the world. In the end there are only so many words by which to convey the gospel. Vocabulary words like grace, compassion, and mercy are like the keys that turn the lock which opens up the gospel treasure chest. So if the devil can corrupt those things, then God cannot talk to us anymore. What language could God borrow to tell us about his grace and compassion through Jesus Christ if people come to hate the very idea of grace or anything associated with Jesus?

In a way similar "corruptions" occur now and again in other parts of life. Maybe once upon a time you loved hearing a certain piece of music. But because you were listening to that song on also the same night you found out that your husband had been cheating on you for years, now you cannot stand to hear even one measure of that tune--the very song that once brought joy now makes you cry every time you hear it. You can't change the radio station fast enough when that song suddenly comes on.

So with blasphemy: if the wrong associations can get made with God, Jesus, or the very language of the gospel, then a roadblock has been set up to prevent God's ability to get through to us. Someone may end up hating what God loves and if that happens, then what? Again, this is so in all acts of profanity and in all blaspheming of sacred symbols. But in Matthew 12 this is magnified because it is the very person of God that is being attacked.

Here Jesus' rhetoric brings us into the very heart of the Trinity: if the essence of who God is gets called demonic, the game is over. If God's light gets labeled darkness, if God's holiness is called raw evil, then for that particular person salvation has become impossible. It has become impossible at least partly because such a person would never accept what God has to offer. If you become convinced that every single time Scott Hoezee cooks food it contains e.coli and salmonella, you will never eat a single bite of any meal I whip up. There's nothing I could offer that you would accept. So also here: if God is the devil, then all he has to offer is poison. And so you end up wanting nothing to do with God.

But that means that the person who commits this act of blasphemy will indeed never ask to be forgiven for it! Getting forgiven requires accepting grace and accepting grace means accepting what the good and compassionate God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ has to offer. But if you have chalked up that very God to an evil dispenser of evil things, you will never ask for grace for the same reason you'd just as soon avoid eating rat poison.

All of which leads back to the inevitable question: is this sin something you can commit by accident? Is this sin an isolated incident which could be located somewhere in the history of your or my life? The typical way pastors have been answering that for centuries is to say, "If you're worried about it, you didn't do it." And the essence of that rejoinder is probably accurate. Because to worry about this means that at base you worry that you will not receive the most precious things which God has to give, which are grace, forgiveness, and new life. But the sheer fact that you are interested in those divine gifts shows your trust of God as well as your belief that God really is the source of all goodness. That very attitude is a far cry from the unpardonable sin of just generally believing God to be the source of bad things.

That alone may constitute good news for you, at least if you ever have fretted about this sin beyond forgiving. But there is another piece of profoundly good news here and it is perhaps the single most appropriate thing we can think about during Lent. Sometimes we miss this facet to Matthew 12. We focus so much on that one sin that will not be forgiven that we miss the stunning fact that everything else can be forgiven!

If you are guilty of the unpardonable sin, then you won't be forgiven because you would never in a million years want to ask to be forgiven. Short of that, though, if you ask God to forgive you through the grace and sacrifice of Jesus, then you will be forgiven. Period. It doesn't matter what the sin is, how often you did it, how long it persisted in your life, how ashamed you are, or whether or not you can forgive yourself. If you ask God from your heart for him to forgive it, he will. He will.

Sometimes, they say, the exception proves the rule. So here: it may be a bit arresting, and it has unhappily caused some people anxiety, to hear that there is a sin beyond forgiving. It is nevertheless just that one sin, which means that every single other sin you could ever name is a candidate for grace.

In the end it is difficult to know how many people in the world may end up having committed themselves to a blasphemous viewpoint on God. It may end up being a small number. Even people in this world right now who have an at-best casual attitude toward God or religion are probably not guilty of saying God is bad or evil. That's why we witness to people: we believe that despite unbelief, apathy, and sin they can yet turn to God and be forgiven in Christ. That's why we call the gospel good news!

But just that lush, delicious offer of grandscale forgiveness is our comfort, too. To live without that assurance leads to a sorrow the likes of which poor William Cowper experienced. Such agonizing doubt is something we pray and hope never happens to anyone who desires God. In this Lenten Season of our lives we hope for ourselves--and we hope that in the end the same may have been true for Cowper 300 years ago--that we can both sense and live the truth of the last line from Cowper's own hymn "Oh, for a Closer Walk with God." With the assurance that Jesus has fully paid for every sin we could ever confess, we sing, "So shall my walk be close with God, calm and serene my frame; so purer light shall mark the road that leads me to the Lamb." Just so, and Amen.