Did you ever play one of those classroom games at school where you started a message at the back of the class and then tried to pass it all the way to the front without the teacher noticing? In my experience the message rarely made it to the front intact, and never without the teacher noticing! Passing a message on from one person to the next, let alone from one generation to the next, is not necessarily a recipe for efficient communication.

And yet, that is precisely what has been required of the Christian church for the past 21 centuries. Ever since Jesus told the parable of the unforgiving servant in Matthew 18 v. 21- 35, we have been held responsible for passing on the message of forgiveness in both word and deed. How are we doing, do you think?

In some places the church is seen as an ally of oppression – building up a debt of things to be forgiven, rather than a track record of forgiving. In other places, she lives under the cosh of oppression, living out a daily credo of forgiveness towards those who maim and torture and steal. In other places still, the church is seen as nothing more than a building, and it is left to the members to weave a tapestry of forgiveness out of tiny acts of selflessness here and there.

Some years ago we played host at my church to the F-word exhibition – the brainchild of a journalist who had covered the ‘Truth and reconciliation’ hearings in South Africa. After the hearings were over, Marina travelled around the world documenting the stories of those whose lives had suffered great trauma. Some were Christian and others not. Some rose above their situation to forgive magnanimously, and others were too hurt to even contemplate it. The exhibition charts a number of their stories, and during its week here we had over 200 people in to visit it – from neighbours and friends to school pupils and our local MP. Thanks to a local garden centre’s help, we were able to create the water feature which you see pictured below. People were invited to pick up a pebble, write something on it which needed to be forgiven and forgotten, and then toss it into the pool.

The following week, when the exhibition was over, it fell to me to clear out the pool. Taking the pebbles out one by one felt like handling sacred artefacts. Each told an anonymous story of hurt, and expressed a heartfelt desire for forgiveness. I have a few of them now, framed in my office, lest I should ever forget.

Christ has charged us with the task of acting as agents of forgiveness and passing it on.

How are we doing, do you think?