Mutual Forbearance
J. R. Miller
Among all Christian duties, there are few that touch life at more points
than the duty of mutual forbearance, and there are few that, in the
observance or the breach, have more to do with the happiness or the
unhappiness of life. We cannot live our lives solitarily. We are made to be
social beings. It is in our communion with others that we find our sweetest
pleasures and our purest earthly joys. Yet close by these springs of
happiness are other fountains that do not yield sweetness. There often are
briars on the branches from which we gather the most luscious fruits. Were
human nature perfect, there could be nothing but most tender pleasure in the
mutual minglings of life. But we are all imperfect and full of infirmities.
There are qualities in each one of us that are not beautiful—many that are
annoying to others. SELF rules in greater or less measure in the best of us.
In our busy and excited lives, we are continually liable to jostle against
each other. Our individual interests conflict, or seem to conflict. The
things we do in the earnest pressing of our own business and our own plans
and efforts seem at times to interfere with the interests of others. In the
heat of emulation and the warmth of self-interest, we are apt to do things,
which injure others.
Then, in our closer personal contact, in society and in
business relations, we are constantly liable to give pain or offence. We
sometimes speak quickly and give expression to thoughtless words, which fall
like sparks on other inflammable tempers. Even our nearest and truest
friends do things that grieve us. Close commingling of imperfect lives
always has its manifold little injustices, wrongs, oppressions, slights and
grievances.
Furthermore, we do not always see each other in clear and
honest light. We are prone to have a bias toward self, and often misconstrue
the bearing, words, or acts of others. Many of us, too, are given to little
petulance’s and expressions of ill-humour or bad temper, which greatly
lessen the probabilities of unbroken fellowship.
Thus, it comes about that no Christian grace is likely to
be called into play more frequently than that of mutual forbearance. Without
it, there can really exist no close and lasting friendly relationships in a
society composed of imperfect beings. Even the most tender intimacies and
the holiest associations require the constant exercise of patience. If we
resent every apparent injustice, demand the righting of every little
wrong, and insist upon chafing and uttering our feelings at every
infinitesimal grievance, and if all the other parties in the circle claim
the same privilege, what miserable beings we shall all be, and how wretched
life will become!
But there is a more excellent way. The spirit of love
inculcated in the New Testament will, if permitted to reign in each heart
and life, produce fellowship without a jar or break.
We need to guard first of all against A CRITICAL SPIRIT.
It is very easy to find fault with people. It is possible, even with
ordinary glasses, to see many things in one another that are not what they
ought to be. Then some people carry microscopes fine enough to reveal a
million animalcules in a drop of water, and with these, they can find
countless blemishes in the character and conduct even of the most saintly
dwellers on the earth. There are some who are always watching for slights
and grievances. They are suspicious of the motives and intentions of others.
They are always imagining offences, even where none were most remotely
intended. This habit is directly at variance with the law of love, which
thinks no evil.
We turn to the Pattern. Does Christ look upon us sharply,
critically, suspiciously? He sees every infirmity in us, but it is as though
He did not see it. His love overlooks it. He throws a veil over our faults.
He continues to pour His own love upon us in spite of all our blemishes and
our ill-treatment of Him. The law of Christian forbearance requires the same
in us. We must not keep our selfish suspicions ever on the watch-tower or at
the windows, looking out for neglects, discourtesies, wrongs, or grievances
of any kind. We must not be hasty to think evil of others. We had better be
blind, not perceiving at all the seeming rudeness or insult. It is well not
to hear all that is said, or, if hear we must, to be as though we heard not.
Many bitter quarrels have grown out of an IMAGINED
slights, many out of an utter misconception, or perchance from the
misrepresentation of some wretched gossip-monger. Had a few moments been
given to ascertain the truth, there had never been any occasion for
ill-feeling.
We should seek to know the MOTIVE also which prompts the
apparent grievance. In many cases, the cause of our grievance is utterly
unintentional, chargeable to nothing worse than thoughtlessness—possibly
meant even for kindness. It is never fair to judge men by every word they
speak or everything they do in the excitement and amid the irritations of
busy daily life. Many a gruff man carries a good heart and a sincere
friendship under his coarse manner. The best does not always come to the
surface. We should never, therefore, hastily imagine evil intention
in others. Nor should we allow ourselves to be easily persuaded that our
companions or friends meant to treat us unkindly. A disposition to look
favorably upon the conduct of our fellow-men is a wonderful absorber of the
frictions of life.
Then there are always cases of real injustice. There are
rudenesses and wrongs, which we cannot regard as merely imaginary or as
misconceptions. They proceed from bad temperament or from jealousy or
malice, and are very hard to bear. Kindness is repaid with unkindness. We
find impatience and petulance in our best friends. There are countless
things every day in our associations with others, which tend to vex or
irritate us.
Here is room for the fullest exercise of that
divinely-beautiful love which covers a multitude of sins in others. We seek
to make every possible excuse for the neglect or rudeness or wrong. Perhaps
our friend is carrying some perplexing care or some great burden today.
Something may be going wrong in his business or at his home. Or it may be
his unstrung nerves that make him so thoughtless and inconsiderate. Or his
bad health may be the cause. A large-hearted spirit will always seek to find
some palliation at least for the apparent wrong.
Another step in the school of forbearance is the lesson
of keeping silent under provocation. One person alone can never make a
quarrel: it takes two. A homely counsel to a newly-married couple was that
they should never both be angry at the same time—that one should always
remain calm and tranquil. There is a still diviner counsel, which speaks of
the soft answer, which turns away wrath. If we cannot have the soft answer
always ready, we can at least learn not to answer at all. Our Lord met
nearly all the insults He received with patient uncomplaining silence. He
was like a lamb silent before the shearer. All the keen insults of the cruel
throng wrung from Him no word of resentment, no look of impatience. As the
fragrant perfume but gives forth added sweetness when crushed, so cruelty,
wrong, and pain only made Him the gentler and the love that always
distinguished Him the sweeter.
It is a majestic power, this power of keeping silent.
Great is the conqueror who leads armies to victories. Mighty is the strength
that captures a city. But he is greater who can rule his own spirit. There
are men who can command armies, but cannot command themselves. There are men
who by their burning words can sway vast multitudes who cannot keep silence
under provocation or wrong. The highest mark of nobility is self-control. It
is more kingly than regal crown and purple robe.
"Not in the clamor of the crowded street,
Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng,
But in ourselves, are triumph and defeat."
There are times when silence is golden, when words mean
defeat, and when victory can be gained only by answering not a word. Many of
the painful quarrels and much of the bitterness of what we call so often
"incompatibility of temper" would never be known if we would learn to keep
silence when others wrong us. We may choke back the angry word that flies to
our lips. The insult unanswered will recoil upon itself and be its own
destruction.
There is also a wonderful opportunity here for the play
of good nature. There are some people whose gracious attitude always comes
to their relief when they observe the gathering of a storm, and they will
have a little story ready, or will suddenly turn the conversation entirely
away from the inflammable subject, or will make some bright or playful
remark that will cause the whole trouble to blow off in a hearty laugh.
It would seem possible for all to learn to bear insults
or grievances in some of these ways, either in silence—not sullen,
thunder-charged, but loving silence—or by returning the soft answer which
will quench the flame of anger, or by that wise tact which drives out the
petulant sentiment by the expulsive power of a new emotion.
There are at least two motives, which should be
sufficient to lead us to cultivate this grace of forbearance. One is that
no insult can do us harm unless we allow it to irritate us. If we endure
even the harshest words as Jesus endured His wrongs and revilings, they will
not leave one trace of injury upon us. They can harm us only when we allow
ourselves to become impatient or angry. We can get the victory over them;
utterly disarm them of power to do us injury, by holding ourselves superior
to them. The feeling of resentment will change to pity when we remember that
not he who is wronged, but he who does the wrong, is the one who suffers.
Every injustice or grievance reacts and leaves a stain and a wound. All the
cruelties and persecutions that human hate could inflict would not leave one
trace of real harm upon us, but every feeling of resentment admitted into
our hearts, every angry word uttered, will leave a stain. Forbearance thus
becomes a perfect shield, which protects us from all the cruelties and
wrongs of life.
The other motive is drawn from our relation to God. We
sin against Him continually, and His mercy never fails. His love bears with
all our neglect, forgetfulness, ingratitude and disobedience, and never
grows impatient with us. We live only by His forbearance. The wrongs He
endures from us are infinite in comparison with the trivial grievances we
must endure from our fellow-men. When we think of this, can we grow
impatient of the little irritations of daily fellowship? We are taught to
pray every day, "Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors." How can we
pray this petition sincerely and continue to be exacting, resentful,
revengeful, or even to be greatly pained by the unkind treatment of others?