Meditations on "The Seven Last Words from Christ on the Cross" Final Word

  "Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, 'Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.'  Having said this, he breathed his last.

Luke 23:46

      Complete and resolute trust to the bitter end, that's what we are witnessing.   The One who had ultimate trust in the Father during his life and ministry, models complete and abiding trust even with his last breath.

      In The Sacrament of the Present Moment,  Jean-Pierre DeCaussade writes that "what grace accomplishes in us, requires nothing more than surrender and assent."    One of the most beloved prayers from my theological tradition (United Methodist) is "A Covenant Prayer in the Wesleyan Tradition".  Here's the way it begins:

     I am no longer my own, but thine.
     Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
     Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
     Let me be employed by thee or laid aside for thee,
     exalted for thee or brought low by thee.
     Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
     I freely and heartily yield all things
     to thy pleasure and disposal.

     If you've spent much time in church across the years, especially if you've attended an evangelistic revival service, you've probably sung a few verses of "I Surrender All".  The refrain goes like this:

     I surrender all, I surrender all
     all to thee, my blessed Savior, I surrender all.

    In this last moment of life for Jesus, as recorded in Luke's Gospel and identified as the seventh and final word from the Cross, Jesus brings to completion what his life has continually accomplished, his unreserved and limitless surrender to God.
    
    Everything he has done before, through every moment that has been building up unto now, with every deed of power, every extension of hospitality offered to the ceremonially unclean, every act of love and forgiveness, every embodiment of God's kingdom, it is all now offered to God in this one final statement of absolute trust and unabashed surrender.

    Trusting God through calamity and hardship, trusting God even as his closest friends betrayed, denied and abandoned him, holding fast to his trust in God through unjust punishment, trusting the Father's will over his own, accepting the cup of suffering and death, he now trusted with his last breath and beyond.

    Surrender.  Trust.  Completion.  Fulfillment.

    These are some of the words that quickly come to mind for me when I reflect on this final word from the Cross.

     Oh that these might be appropriate words to describe the lives we are leading, and the deaths we will die.

    To God be the glory!

    



Mediations on "The Seven Last Words of Christ from the Cross" - Sixth Word

      "When Jesus had received the wine, he said, "It is finished."  Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit."

John 19:30

     Completion.

     The cup has been drained.  The work is done.

     It is finished!

     The finality of this moment is both painful and powerful.  The struggles of the cross have reached their apex.  Suffering is swallowed up in the cold dark silence of death.  It is finished.

      The work Jesus set out to do is now complete.  All has been accomplished.  No stone has been left unturned.  He remained faithful to the very end, even in the face of incredible odds and constant challenges.  It is finished!

      This is one of those paradoxical moments that can bring us to tears, while summoning us to stand up straight with a defiant and resolute spirit.  This is not merely an occasion to weep, but a call to work.   Jesus ran his course.  He completed his work. 

      Even though we reflect on these moments on the cross for Jesus, we know that Sunday's coming!  But even with the blessed truth of resurrection echoing in our mind, this last moment of life on the cross, this word of successful completion reminds us that Jesus has passed on the mantel of his Father's Kingdom to us.

    Of course, Jesus makes it clear in John's Gospel that we don't labor alone - he has not left us orphaned, reminding us that
             "the Advocate, the Holy Spirit., whom the Father will send in my name,
              will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you." (John 14:26)

     I've had the honor of standing by the bedside of a number of people when they took their last breath.  With the aid of pain-reducing medicine in our day and time, that moment often comes in the midst of a deep sleep.  On occasions there is sufficient consciousness for words, but in my experience, more often than not, the time for speaking has passed some time before death comes.

    Of course, watching someone die on television or the silver screen is often much more dramatic, as the soon-to-be deceased will often speak important words that are critical to the story just before the last breath is drawn.

     Hollywood doesn't have anything on the Gospel of John.  As the darkness of death gradually enfolds Jesus, he makes provisions for the care of his mother Mary, he speaks to his human thirst, and after receiving some wine, he offers these simple words of both resignation and resolve.

     "It is finished."  These are confidant and courageous words of One who has been faithful to his identity and destiny, One who is in control at this tender moment of his life, just as he has been throughout his life, witness and ministry to this point.

     "It is finished."   The Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, God's only begotten Son who came to bring salvation rather than condemnation, has done the work he was sent to do.

     "It is finished."  It is done!  It is complete! 

      God's redemptive work has been accomplished in Jesus Christ!

      May God give us grace to live like it!

 

 



Mediations on "The Seven Last Words from Christ on the Cross" - Fifth Word

       "After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill the scripture), "I am thirsty."

John 19:28

     The scripture to which this fulfillment seems to be alluding is Psalm 69:21
                "They gave me poison for food,
                  and for my thirst they
                  gave me vinegar to drink."

      This is more apparent by reading the next verse in John, 19:29
                  "A jar full of sour wine was standing there. 
                   So they put a sponge full of the wine on
                   a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth."

       Each of the gospel writers include sour wine being offered to Jesus in the last moments before he breathes his last. For Matthew, Mark and John, it is the very last thing that occurs before his death.  In Luke, there are the conversations involving Jesus and the 2 bandits / criminals / others, after the offering of the sour wine.

       John is the only gospel writer who specifically states that Jesus drank ("received") the wine that was held to his mouth by a branch of hyssop (vs. 30).  And its only in John that the wine is given in response to a statement of thirst by Jesus.

        I've often wondered if this offering of the sour wine could be seen as a momentary break in the horrible cruelty.  Could this represent, even the slightest sliver, the briefest moment of human kindness?  Maybe not, but there's always been a part of me that's wanted to interpret vs. 29 this way.

       Years ago a friend gave me a bottle of wine.  It had been a gift received several years prior and never opened.  It remained with me for several years before I opened it.  When I opened the bottle,  the cork fell apart, pieces of it breaking off and crumbling into the bottle.  When I poured the wine into a glass, it looked dark, not a healthy color of red.  When I sniffed the wine, it was the unmistakable smell of vinegar.  Air had seeped into the bottle through the disintegrated cork, and had soured the wine.

        I poured the dark wine from the glass, and the remainder of the bottle down the sink.  I have no desire to drink sour wine.  But then again, if I was as thirsty as Jesus must have been on the cross, I believe I could have gotten down a sip or two.

        By this point on the cross, Jesus' death is immanent, his last breath drawing near.  Though John's Gospel is often viewed as the gospel that most fully champions the divinity of Jesus (the Word made flesh), it is John's account that gives us this very human moment, "I am thirsty."

        Imagine for a moment what this thirst for Jesus might have felt like. His mouth dry, unable to swallow, his tongue swelling and sticking to the roof of his mouth, his lips chapped and cracking.   

       John's description of the crucifixion lacks the mocking of Jesus found in the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark and Luke).  In John, he doesn't cry out from the cross.  The temple veil is not torn in two from top to bottom at the moment of his death.  The centurion doesn't speak.  But, in this gospel, known for its very high Christological content that provides us with some of our most treasured examples and enduring images of Jesus' divine nature, it is his human nature most fully on display in the final heartbeats of his life. "I am thirsty."

        In "The Incarnation of the Word", St. Athanasius wrote,
                "He became what we are that we might become what he is."  
          
        Seeing Jesus' full humanity on display is a very comforting thing, serving to remind us that in Christ, the Word indeed became flesh.  As such he was susceptible to the normal frailties of our human flesh, sickness and pain, fatigue and impatience, hunger and thirst.

        In "Letters to Marc About Jesus", Henri Nouwen describes a painting of the crucifixion by Matthias Grunewald completed many years ago in Europe during the time of the great plague.  The painting hung in a hospital, and showed the crucified Jesus suffering from plague-like sores, blisters and boils.  Nouwen saw this as the artist's attempt to encourage those who were suffering from the plague to experience some solidarity with the suffering of Jesus on the cross.

      I think, maybe, that's something akin to what John is doing here.  In this gospel that so strongly bears witness to Jesus' divinity, we are reminded in this tender moment of his life, that he really was one of us....

      ...the Word really did become flesh.

         Thanks be to God!

 
       

Meditations of "The Seven Last Words of Christ from the Cross" - Fourth Word

 "And about three o'clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, 'Eli, Eli, lama- sa bach tha-ni?' that is, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?''

Matthew 27:46

    We could have drawn from either Matthew or Mark for the Fourth Word from the Cross.  Both record this painful cry of Jesus.  It's not included in Luke or John's account of the crucifixion.

    At first glance, these are words of unimaginable desolation and abandonment.  It has led some Bible commentators to suggest that the wretched nature of humanity's sin heaped upon Jesus was so horrific that for a moment God the Father looked away in disgust.  This view imagines Jesus in that moment as utterly and completely alone.

    It is a picture of the very depths of despair and hopelessness, a glimpse of a very dark place.

    And, to be honest, that viewpoint has some appeal for me.  Not the "Father turning away" part, but that place of utter desperation for Jesus.  The idea of God the Father looking away, of course, is not a biblical notion, but an interpretive approach to the Holy Scripture.  It makes for a powerful image, and, no doubt, a heightened preaching moment that could move a congregation, but there's no scriptural basis in the crucifixion accounts in the gospels.

     I do find some appeal in considering that Jesus experienced abandonment in this moment.  And the appeal comes simply from my own humanity.  If you've ever felt the pain of loneliness, that kind of inner loneliness that one can feel in a crowded room, even in the company of family and friends, if you have some understanding of that kind of loneliness, then perhaps your humanity finds some connection in this apparent experience of abandonment and desolation for Jesus.

     However, that being said, there is something deeper happening here, something more than a despairing man in a desperate situation.  When, first Mark and then Matthew record these words from the lips of Jesus, they see him standing firmly the Old Testament tradition of lament.

    More specifically, he stands upon the tradition of the Psalms of Lament.   When he cries out "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?",   he is quoting the first line of Psalm 22, which is a Psalm of Lament.  

    There's a rich heritage of lament in the Book of Psalms.  And one of the chief characteristics of the Lament Psalms, is that they begin in a place of deep desperation and pain, and end in a place of defiant hope and trust in God.   And, in true rabbinic fashion, to quote the opening line, or lines of the Psalm, Jesus is calling forth the truth of the entire Psalm.

    Listen to the first two verses of Psalm 22:

         "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
         Why are you so far from helping me, from the words
            of my groaning?
          O my God, I cry by day, but you
            do not answer;
           and by night, but find no rest."

        Maybe you've felt that way before...

     Lament Psalms comprise some of the most valuable words in Scripture I believe.  Where Psalms of praise and adoration and worship provide us with appropriate words with which to praise God, Psalms of Lament provide us with a language that can give voice to our innermost human pain and suffering.   While much of the Bible can speak to us, Psalms of Lament can speak for us.

     But Psalms of Lament do more than just speak for us in our pain, they provide a framework for holding our pain in the cradle of our faith.  Psalms of Lament speak honestly of our pain and doubt, our discouragement and despair, even our anger toward God.  And yet, the cries of pain come from a place of steadfast, even stubborn faith.

    Listen to the final five verses of Psalm 22 (vs. 27-31):

        "All the ends of the earth shall remember
           and turn to the LORD;
          and all the families of the nations
           shall worship before him.
        For dominion belongs to the LORD
           and he rules over the nations.
     
       To him, indeed, shall all who sleep
           in the earth bow down;
        before him shall bow all who
           go down to the dust,
           and I shall live for him.
     
         Posterity will serve him;
           future generations will be told
           about the LORD,
         and proclaim his deliverance to
           a people yet unborn,
         saying that he has done it."

     In the midst of his suffering, Jesus calls upon the great tradition of his faith to bear witness to the trustworthiness of God.  Even in his acute pain, Jesus bears witness to the God who can be trusted.  His death is a testimony to his faithfulness to God.  His lament is a testament to his faith in God.

     What looks like, at first glance, a cry of desperation and despair, is in fact, a declaration of determined and resolute faith!

     And maybe it can also serve as a reminder, that we are free to speak honestly and openly about our pain and suffering.  We need not mask our brokenness with catchy Christian-clichés.  Bumper-sticker theology will pretty much always just skim the surface of our deep longings, and almost always leave us feeling spiritually unsatisfied and empty.

     Jesus is honest about his pain and suffering - expressing his deep pain with honest and authentic words that speak to a steadfast, resolute, relentless and determined faith.

      His words speak to a truth and a faith planted deeper than the greatest depths of human suffering. 

      This is the way of Christ.

      This is the way of the cross.

       

Mediations on the Seven Last Words from Christ on the Cross - Third Word

    "When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, "Woman, here is your son."  Then he said to the disciple, "Here is your mother."  And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home."

John 19:26-27

     This is, for me, perhaps the most beautiful and intimate moment in this painful scene.  After reflecting on two unique moments found only in Luke's description of the crucifixion, we turn now to the Third Word from the Cross, found only in John's Gospel narrative.

    John describes the disciple Jesus addresses as the one "whom Jesus loved" for the first time at the Last Supper (19:26).  He was the disciple reclining next to Jesus, the one Simon Peter had asked to find out the name of the betrayer.

    This disciple would continue with that designation.

• It is to Simon Peter and "the one whom Jesus loved" that Mary Magdalene breathlessly announces Jesus' body had been taken from the tomb (20:2). 
• This is the disciple who said "It is the Lord!" at the sight of the resurrected Jesus at the Sea of Tiberias fish fry (21:7).  
• He's the disciple who had been rumored to remain alive until Jesus returned (21:20-23). 
• And finally, the writer of the Fourth Gospel declares at the end of the Book, it is the testamony of the disciple whom Jesus loved that has provided the details of Jesus' life contained in John's Gospel.

     And, of course, it is to the disciple whom Jesus loved, that Jesus entrusts the care of his mother after his death.  Even if we hadn't been made aware of it already, this act would have spoken volumes about the love Jesus had for this disciple.
     
     At the heart of John's Gospel is Jesus' call to love one another.  It is the new commandment inaugerated at the last Passover meal he shares with his disciples before his arrest and crucifixion,
        "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you
         also should love one another.  By this everyone will knwo that you are my disciples, if you
         have love for one anohter." (John 13:34-35)

     And again...

      "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.  No one

       has greater love than this to lay down one's life for one's friends. You are my friends

       if you do what I command you.  I do not call you servants any longer...but I have

       called you friends...I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another." 

                                                                                                                (John 15:12-15, 17)

     The bond of love between a mother and child, as well as the love shared between friends that we see on display in this moment, is built upon the deep communion between God the Father and God the Son,
           "As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love."  (John 15:9)

      I'm thankful that this beautiful, tender, painful moment is part of our biblical canon.  I'm glad that the writer of John's Gospel saw fit to include it (prompted, no doubt, by the Holy Spirit).  It is a testament to love's unquenchable and enduring nature.  It's a powerful portrait of love standing defiant in the face of suffering and pain. 

      And maybe its also a reminder, that when we love deeply, when we care more about others than we do about ourselves, when we provide for the vulnerable, we are very near to the very heart of Christ.
   

 

 

Mediations on the Seven Last Words of Christ from the Cross - Second Word

"Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise."  Luke 23:43

     Like the first word of the seven last words, ("Father forgive them....") this second word attributed to Jesus from the cross is unique to the gospel of Luke.  And, again like the first word, if any of the four gospels would provide this moment, it would be Luke.

    Though all four gospel writers record that Jesus was crucified along with two other individuals - identified as "bandits" in Matthew and Mark, "criminals" in Luke, and merely referred to as "others" in John - the relationship between Jesus and those crucified with him is interpreted differently.

    For John, there is no interaction between the three men.  Matthew and Mark add the voices of the two bandits to those who are deriding Jesus on the cross.  But not Luke.  Luke, who throughout his gospel has been the champion of the downtrodden, the outcast, the marginalized, the unclean, speaks of a conversation from the cross between Jesus and a seemingly repentant criminal that has captured the hearts of Christians over the centuries.

   In Luke's account, both criminals speak.  The first one, unrepentant to the end derides Jesus,
           "Are you not the Messiah?  Save yourself and us." 

    The second criminal rebukes the first,
           "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of
           condemnation?  And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are
           getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing
           wrong. Then he said, 'Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.'" 

      And it's in response to the second criminal that Jesus offers these hopeful words in Luke's Gospel:
           "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise."

    Sometimes I've struggled to reconcile this image of a momentary, immediate experience of life after death with the historic creeds of the Church.  In the Apostles' Creed, we affirm our belief in "the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting."  In The Nicene Creed,  "We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come."   

 

    When we experience the death of a loved one, we can find great comfort in this Lukan conversation between Jesus and the second criminal on the cross, because it gives us hope that there is an instantaneous cross-over from this life to the next.   Several years ago, while preparing for a funeral with a family in the church I was serving, I was asked to focus on the immediacy of the afterlife, rather than focusing on the more creedal understandings (and other biblical teachings) that support a final resurrection theology.

     Some reconcile this tension between a "now or later" experience of Heaven, by envisioning a person's soul/spirit entering into heaven upon death, awaiting to be reunited with a resurrected body at the resurrection of the dead at Christ's Second Coming.  Others have wondered exactly what Jesus meant by "Paradise".  Is it heaven, in the way we imagine heaven?  Or could it be likened to a kind of Roman Catholic understanding of Purgatory?

     Of course, maybe fixating on exactly what Jesus meant regarding "Paradise" and its relationship to the afterlife is missing the point.  After all, whenever and however and wherever it is that we shall find ourselves brought into the fullness of God' presence, and what form and shape that will take is far beyond our pay grade.   These are God-sized matters.  In death or in life, our role is to trust the One who knows and holds those deep truths that we cannot begin to fathom.

     Maybe Luke offered this conversation between Jesus and the criminal, not so much to provide us with a full-proof, hard-clad doctrine of life after death.  Perhaps he shared with us this moving moment, simply as a way of bearing witness, yet again, to the heart of God revealed in Jesus. 

     Maybe this moment can simply be seen as one more in a series of moments when Jesus welcomes sinners, providing another example of Jesus offering hospitality to the "least, the last and the lost" (a phrase Disciple Bible Study Students will remember).  Perhaps Luke offers this moment not so much to try and give us a peak into the next world, as to give us hope in this world.

     I, too, find comfort in hearing Jesus speak of "Paradise" in light of my own view and hope of Heaven.  But maybe the themes of repentance and faith, hospitality and welcome, compassion and love are more central to Luke's intent.

     In Luke's crucifixion narrative, one criminal remained defiant and unrepentant to the end.  The other criminal, in the presence of Jesus, realized that the kingdom of Christ was to be desired over the kingdom of Caesar, over all the kingdoms of the world.  

     Maybe, after all is said and done that's really at the heart of the matter here.   Maybe Luke is simply bearing witness to a cross-shaped truth:  

     Paradise is the fruit of aligning our lives to the right kingdom....           



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meditations on the Seven Last Words of Christ From the Cross - The First Word...

"Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing."  Luke 23:34

 

 

    Even though some ancient authorities don't include this verse in Luke's Gospel, it marks the starting place for those who have traditionally found meaning in reflecting on these "Seven Last  Words from the Cross", a gathering of the sayings attributed to Jesus during his crucifixion from the gospels of Luke (3), John (3) and Matthew (1).  

 

   If any of the gospel writers would offer this sentiment from the cross, this amazing act of forgiveness spoken from the lips of Jesus, it would be Luke.  Luke trumpets the downtrodden, the broken, the outcasts and disenfranchised.  Luke sees Jesus as one who stands firm against long-held religious and cultural norms.  He reaches out to the unclean, welcoming those who, social and religious practices demanded, were to be kept at a safe, respectable and un-defiling distance.    

 

  And he forgives those who have no business being forgiven.

 

  We might ask the question, "On who's behalf is Jesus seeking forgiveness from the Father?" 

• Is it Judas who betrayed him?
• Is it Peter who denied him? 
• Is it the council that condemned him?
• The men who blindfolded him, mocked him and beat him?
• Is it those who accused him falsely?
• Is it the crowd who called for Barabbas' release, shouting for Jesus' crucifixion? 
• Is it Pilate, who saw no offense in Jesus but gave into the crowd's demands? 
• Could it have been Herod and his soldiers who mocked Jesus and treated him with contempt? 
• Is it those who cast lots for his clothing? 
• Or the people who stood by watching.  
• The leaders who scoffed at him? 
• The soldiers that mocked him? 
• All of the above? 

    In this extravagant display of forgiveness from Jesus' breaking, yet unbreakable heart - this picture of wounded, yet unconditional love -  maybe there really isn't any need to look for boundaries.  Perhaps there aren't enough bullet points to list everyone that could be included in this.

 

    We know where this kind of love begins.  It originates in the heart of God.  We have no way of imagining how far this kind of love is capable of stretching.  

 

    The best visual expression we have comes in the shape of a cross.

 

    And, quite frankly, that's the best I can do in trying to understand this moment, this moment of forgiveness that defies logic, societal norms, and even our modern day religious expectations.  The best I can do is to point to the cross, to consider what it represents and the message it still speaks.

 

      And it does still speak. 

      Sometimes its a whisper. 

      Sometimes its a shout!

 

      The 2006 shooting deaths of 5 little girls in the Nickel Mines Amish School in Lancaster Pennsylvania horrified us all.  The response of the Amish people mystified us.  They forgave.  They forgave the shooter, they reached out to his family, they comforted his wife. They responded to unspeakable violence, with unshakable faith.  In their deep, profound and unspeakable suffering, they were unconditional love incarnate.

 

      Members of the Mother Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston South Carolina responded to the 2015 shooting deaths of nine people by forgiving the shooter.  Family members, even as they gave eloquent voice to their deep personal grief at the bond hearing of the person responsible, still somehow found a way to speak words of forgiveness.

 

     How could such cruelty be forgiven?  How could love be unconditional in the face of such abominable and inexcusable atrocities? 

 

     How can someone find forgiveness who has no business being forgiven?

 

     I don't know.  I honestly don't know.

 

    The best I can do, is point to the cross.

 

    Of course, these are extreme examples.  Thankfully for most of us, throughout the course of our lives we will be challenged with much less dramatic and painful opportunities to offer forgiveness for the wounds and wrongs received at the hands of others.

 

     And yet, we all know how hard it can be sometimes.   A wounded heart can quickly become a hardened heart.  And even if we don't actively seek revenge, at least some degree of restitution often seems to be in order.  It just seems natural to require some degree of penance, to receive some measure of satisfaction from the offending party, to repay us for the wrong we have incurred.

 

     The truth of the matter is that wounds hurt, and sometimes it takes a long time for the hurting to stop and for the wounds to heal.  And we can replay the wrongs we've incurred over and over again, countless times in our minds.  And wounds can run the gamut, from an untended slight to a calculated act of cruelty to a trust-destroying moment of betrayal.

 

     How can we forgive someone who has no business being forgiven?

 

     I don't know.  I honestly don't know.

 

     The best I can do, is point to the cross.

 

     It's sounds a bit preachy to say "Jesus forgave us, so you should forgive others".  But, of course, Jesus does teach that - "forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us". (Luke 11:4). (Jesus is less concerned about sounding preachy than I am!)

But our relationship to Christ and the authenticity of our Christian witness does really rest at the heart of our attitude and practice regarding forgiveness.

 

    Maybe it would help if we considered the power that forgiveness has to shape us more fully into a person who, as the old saying goes, "doesn't just talk the talk, but who walks the walk".  Perhaps we would do well to reflect on how the practice of forgiving can serve to make us a little more like Jesus, enabling us to grow in Christ-likeness and Christian maturity.  

 

    And of course you're absolutely correct if you're thinking that the person who has wronged you doesn't deserve forgiving.  You'll get no arguments from me on that one!

And so, if you're wanting me to explain to you how you can forgive someone who has absolutely no business being forgiven, I'm afraid I don't know.  I honestly don't know.

 

    The best I can do, is point to the cross.