Offensive Grace
It was a rather odd 24 hours. I’d been sworn at by half a dozen different people, none of whom know me or each other, but apparently despised me nevertheless. I’d received three messages from one young mother telling me that I made her sick to her stomach, and I surely couldn’t be a parent of children. And in one particularly vitriolic email, I’d been advised that I’m as bad as a child molester. If you’re wondering what horrendous crime I’d committed, it’s simple. On Facebook, I requested prayer for a newly incarcerated prisoner, who was just beginning a prison sentence. As far as I know, he’d never been in jail before.
His name was Rolf Harris.
In the wake of the monstrous abuses committed by Jimmy Saville, society was understandably appalled at the revelations about the previously iconic Harris. Perhaps our capacity for hatred is increased when someone that we love dearly betrays us, and so news that the jaunty painter and presenter was actually a serial predator was devastating. And so it was with a nervous heart that I made this post:
This is likely to create some reaction, but I feel compelled to write. My request is simple – pray for Rolf Harris today, as he is sentenced. Before picking up that stone or firing off an angry response, let me be clear: what he has done is utterly evil and reprehensible. Not only is he a child abuser, but he has allowed his victims to suffer more by not admitting his guilt and forcing them to relive their terror in court. Justice must and should be done. I offer not a single word of defence for these terrible crimes. Utmost in our minds must be prayers for his victims and those who perhaps have still not been heard. Our prayers are with countless others who are still in a situation of ongoing abuse, who long for liberation and justice. But I return to one core question: does God love Harris? Did Jesus die for him? The answer is yes. And so, as he experiences utter hostility and loneliness and fear today, we should pray for him, that somehow, in some way, he might discover Christ in the midst of this dark day.
I was stunned by the response. The posting hit over 27,000 Facebook pages. There were hundreds of comments, and over a thousand people clicked ‘like’. The post was republished by Christian radio stations and news websites. The vast majority of people were supportive and in agreement with the call. But I was not prepared for the angry eruption from the few.
Some of the anger came from so-called ‘trolls’, who just like to pick an online fight. Perhaps some were reacting out of their own bruising experiences at the hands of their own abusers. And some of those who reacted so spitefully were probably not believers, and therefore might not have understood that prayer for someone is not about approving or excusing what they did. I was careful not to mention forgiveness – for one thing, only those that have been hurt by Harris can forgive him.
But I called for pray for prisoner Harris, not least because his heart and mind needed to change. However, this was not just a prayer for change in him so that no more vulnerable people would be exploited, but comes because the grace of God is so utterly stunning. Years ago I used a phrase in a sermon, describing grace as outrageous. Songwriter Godfrey Birtill was present during that talk, and went on to write the song, ‘Outrageous Grace’, which beautifully captures something of the wondrous love that God has for each and every human being. If grace is not amazing, it’s not grace.
But grace is offensive at times, because it means that God likes people that I want Him to hate. Like Jonah, who stomped out of the revival town that was Ninevah because God was offering mercy to a hated people group who were on the map for skinning people alive, I’d like God to show mercy to relatively nice people (like me, at least in my estimation), and nuke the Hitlers, Stalins, and Yorkshire Rippers of the world.
But the confusing, glorious truth is that Jesus made a continuous habit of hanging out with the wrong people. Like the woman caught in adultery. Zacchaeus, the tax fraudster. A thief dying on the cross next to His.
Like you.
Like me.