Seth Godin quotes Brian Eno as saying that, although the first Velvet Underground album only sold 1,000 copies, all those who bought it formed a band. He goes on to note that, “many of us sell ideas, not widgets, and …ideas are best when used, and the more they get used, the more ideas they spawn.”
It strikes me that is what we ought to be looking to do as churches - not being consumed by wanting to sell more records ourselves but gladly seeing other bands forming.
In Luke 5, Jesus tells a paralysed man, ‘Your sins are forgiven’ (v.20). The Pharisees respond by accusing him of blasphemy and ask, ‘Who can forgive sins but God alone?’ - a rhetorical question that expects the answer ‘no one’.
It’s a good question - and a moot point.
In his account of the incident, Matthew tells us that the crowd who saw the miracle responded with awe and praise because, as they saw it, "God…had given such authority to men." (Mt. 9:8) Authority to do what? To heal? Yes. And to forgive? Well, that would certainly seem to be part of the package they have in mind.
The Pharisees were angered because, as they saw it, God alone can forgive sins. The crowd are amazed because, as they see it, God has conferred that authority on men (not just the Man). So who is right?
It’s often said (by preachers, at least, and I know because I’ve said it) that the Pharisees were at least right on this point: only God can forgive sins. Where they went wrong was in not recognising that God was among them in the person of his Son. So they were right and the crowd was wrong.
But let’s think for a minute about what the Pharisees actually believed. They knew that the LORD had delegated his power of forgiveness and attached it to the sacrificial system, presided over by the High Priest. That reality runs throughout the Old Testament: sacrifices are offered and atonement is made and the people are pronounced 'forgiven' (see Lev. 4:20,26,31,35 etc - the references are copious).
So perhaps their question is, in fact, a shorthand way of saying, ‘God alone can forgive sins which we all know he does via the delegated authority of the Law and via the priestly system.’ The forgiveness is still God’s to give but he chooses to give it in that context.
In which case it seems that the Pharisees were actually questioning Jesus’ positioning of himself as one who takes the place of the sacrificial system and the work of the High Priest. In so doing, it would seem to them that he was making himself equal to God by insisting he was in a position to make such a change to the Law.
But it goes even further than that. In Matthew’s account, as we noticed earlier, the people praise God for giving such authority to people (the word translated ‘man’ is in fact plural). They recognise in Jesus not a usurping of God’s authority but a delegation of it, to human beings (not just to this human being) and outside of the provisions of the Law.
Of course, it might be argued that the crowd knew very little and were hardly sophisticated in the finer details of the sacrificial system (no doubt the Pharisees would choose to argue along those lines). But Matthew, writing after Jesus’ resurrection and with a fuller grasp of such issues, in no way writes negatively of the people’s assessment. There is not even a hint in how he writes up this incident that the crowd were wrong in their conclusion, that they were enthusiastic but misguided. No, Matthew doesn’t suggest that at all.
But does God - has God - given the authority to forgive sins to people? Jesus apparently believes that he has. In fact, he himself extends that authority on God’s behalf to his people: "If you forgive the sins of anyone, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven" (Jn. 20:23); "whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven" (Mt. 18:18).
We might want to call a halt at this point and caution that the matter of forgiveness would then be open to all sorts of possible abuses, including abuses we thought it had been rescued from in the Reformation. Is God bound to forgive anyone whom I choose to forgive? What if that person isn’t truly repentant? And will God withhold his forgiveness from someone who is genuinely repentant because I’ve decided they aren’t really sincere in seeking it? Not to mention the potential for pride and the rise of an unbiblical priestliness.
That was my first reaction, too. People don’t need to ask me for forgiveness; they go to God through Jesus. He alone can forgive sins. Except he tells me to forgive others, not just in the passages just referred to but in a whole host of others. I am to act in a priestly capacity as authorised by God, in light of Jesus’ once-for-all sacrifice for sin, the true fulfilment of the whole sacrificial system of the OT. And not in any sense because I happen to be a minister but simply because I am a Christian, as part of the universal priesthood of all believers.
So what about those pitfalls - people getting forgiven when they oughtn’t to be and vice versa? Well, no one ever said God’s hands were tied on this matter, any more than they are tied by the 'ask anything in my name and it will be done' strand of Jesus’ teaching. God is big enough to handle our fallibility.
But he has commissioned us to proclaim forgiveness in Jesus’ name and to enact it in our relationships. Yes, that takes place via gospel preaching (the way some would apply the John 20 text) but not only so; Jesus makes it far more personal. He enacts it in the presence of the Pharisees and God is glorified for it by the people. The old was passing, the new was being unveiled. Decisive atonement was being located in Jesus’ death and forgiveness on the basis of his atoning sacrifice was to be actualised through his people, as indwelt by his Spirit (John 20:22).
The most important thing is to be aware that culture is always, already there–something in which we live and move and have our historical being–and that it is always actively cultivating, always forming habits of the heart and habits of perception. Of course, it also helps when the first mate–one’s pastor theologian–is a competent seahand. “Competence” here means knowing both one’s ship (the church) and the sea (the world). The image of the church as maritime vessel is a good one. Throughout Scriptures, water is often a symbol for powers that can engulf us. But the church should not be wholly anti-world either, for the sea, as part of the created order, is in another sense what sustains us. Ultimately it is the wind–the breath of the word-ministering Spirit–that allows the church to be counter-cultural and to set her course against the prevailing intellectual currents.