O
OneSheep
Guest
Let me do something a little different here, by starting with a short story, which is based on something that really occurred. Once upon a time, there was a man who owed a lot of taxes to a newly crowned king. The man tells the king that he will pay him all the money he gets when he sells his house. The man sells his house, but he and his wife decide that the amount he got for his house was more than he owed in taxes, so he would keep some of the money.
The man goes before the king, and gives him what he and his wife decided would be a fair amount. The king, however, is disappointed, for he knew the sale price. “You lied to me, and did not give me what you promised. You lied to me before God.” Overcome with guilt and shame, the man suddenly dies. The man is immediately taken away by subjects and unceremoniously buried.
In the mean time, the man’s wife is called before the king. She is not told of her husband’s death. “How much tax have you decided to pay me?” he asks. She tells him the amount that she and her husband agreed upon. The king points to his subjects and says to the woman, “You have lied to me, and those who buried your husband are taking you too!” The wife, in her immediate grief, falls dead.
Now, folks, if you are like me, you would have a reaction of resentment toward the new king. The fact that the man was unceremoniously buried might be somewhat understandable in say, the middle ages. What particularly bothers me is the way the wife was treated, that she was not told of her husband’s death nor consoled by anyone in the story, and that she was told she would go where her husband has gone. Have you, the reader, also held something against the king? And, if so, can you forgive him?
This, however, is not the end of the story. Commentators on the occurrence have justified the actions of the king, saying they served as a warning to others. It is our calling to forgive the commentators too, if we hold something against them. How do we go about this?
The man goes before the king, and gives him what he and his wife decided would be a fair amount. The king, however, is disappointed, for he knew the sale price. “You lied to me, and did not give me what you promised. You lied to me before God.” Overcome with guilt and shame, the man suddenly dies. The man is immediately taken away by subjects and unceremoniously buried.
In the mean time, the man’s wife is called before the king. She is not told of her husband’s death. “How much tax have you decided to pay me?” he asks. She tells him the amount that she and her husband agreed upon. The king points to his subjects and says to the woman, “You have lied to me, and those who buried your husband are taking you too!” The wife, in her immediate grief, falls dead.
Now, folks, if you are like me, you would have a reaction of resentment toward the new king. The fact that the man was unceremoniously buried might be somewhat understandable in say, the middle ages. What particularly bothers me is the way the wife was treated, that she was not told of her husband’s death nor consoled by anyone in the story, and that she was told she would go where her husband has gone. Have you, the reader, also held something against the king? And, if so, can you forgive him?
This, however, is not the end of the story. Commentators on the occurrence have justified the actions of the king, saying they served as a warning to others. It is our calling to forgive the commentators too, if we hold something against them. How do we go about this?