Man refuses to forgive friend of sixty-two years

BRISBANE, Australia

Sixty-seven year old Jonathan Duncan has had a falling out with his lifelong friend, sixty-eight year old William Jones, after the latter forgot to attend a rugby game.

"It wasn't a big deal, you know, but I just can't forgive him." Jonathan told reporters on Monday, the day after the incident occurred. "I had a spare ticket for the game and Will said he'd come along, but he completely forgot about it. Normally I'd just shrug it off, but this time I can't forgive him."

When asked why, Jonathan responded, "It's Biblical."

Apparently, the rugby game slip-up was William's four-hundred and ninety-first offense against Jonathan over the course of their sixty-two year friendship.

"I still remember the first one. William stole my bubble-gum. He later apologised - he always apologises, he's great like that. And of course, I forgave him. I had to, Jesus says we have to."

But with William, that law no longer applies. "Jesus said that we weren't to forgive seven times, but seventy times seven. That makes four-hundred and ninety times. I never thought Will would hit that point, but I suppose after sixty-two years, you end up forgiving a lot. We're practically like brothers as a result. Or, at least, we were until this last one."

William doesn't understand Jonathan's logic. "I always thought Jesus was talking figuratively. I haven't been keeping track of how many times I've forgiven Jonny, it's gotta be a few hundred too. Now that he hasn't forgiven me for missing the rugby game, we haven't really spoken since."

When asked about the possibility of restitution, Jonathan was sullen. "I'd love to make up with him, it really wasn't all that big a deal, it was a bad game anyway. But if I were to forgive him, it would be blatantly disobeying a direct command of Jesus, and I have to love my God more than I love my friends, you know? I've done what Jesus asked me to with William."

So what next for Jonathan? "Well, I'm looking for a new friend now. Gordon down the road I've known the last five years, and I've only forgiven him thirty-seven times. I figure he should last me out 'til I cark it."

Lest We Forgive

Although it is not yet ANZAC Day here in Toronto, it is in Australia. This is the first of such days that I have remembered outside of Australia. I think it's also the first that I have properly understood.

For those who don't know, ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, and ANZAC Day is celebrated every April 25th, commemorating the first soldiers' landing in Gallipoli in WWI. It has, over time, become a day that invites Aussies and Kiwis to recognise the significance of all those who fought for and defended our country.

My grandfather (whom we called "Dadda") was one of those men. He changed his age in order to protect his country in WWII, and at twenty-one (my age now) was taken as a prisoner-of-war in the Pacific Islands. Many of his comrades didn't make it out alive due to the harsh conditions that they were forced to live in - Dadda wasn't expected to live past forty, have children or ever live a normal life again.

In God's providence, Dadda went Home last October, at the ripe-old age of 87 (the Australian cricketer's unlucky number, as he would remind us!), leaving behind a wife, six children and a brilliant Christian legacy for the Coller family. It was that last part that struck me once again today, as I was able to witness to a 67 year old Japanese man who does not yet know Christ.

It struck me that this conversation that I had with the man (his name was Ken) was evidence of amazing forgiveness. It was the Japanese that had brutalised Dadda, killed many of his friends and given him nightmares for years following the war. Following these events, the easiest, most natural and most justifiable reaction would be to hold on to whatever animosity and hatred that was surely felt towards them during the war years. Dadda, humanly speaking, had every right to pass on a disgust for the Japanese that would have been handed down to my father and thereby to me.

But Dadda didn't react humanly. I'm sure in his mind this never ceased to be a struggle for him, yet outwardly he handed down to his children and grandchildren a legacy of love (because God first loved us) and forgiveness (because we have been forgiven much). As if to force this forgiveness in Dadda's own heart, God went so far as calling my aunty (Dadda's youngest child) and her husband to be missionaries in Japan, where they served for seven years.

Then today I was able to speak about Jesus in a situation that might have seemed impossible two generations ago, if it weren't for forgiveness. I am indebted to Dadda for the sacrifices he made to defend my country,

But even moreso, I am indebted to him for the Christ-like example he set for his whole family, through circumstances that, God-willing, I will never even come close to experiencing.

Lest we forget. Lest we forgive.