I have watched, with some interest, the proceedings in Dallas surrounding the trial of Amber Guyger—the former police officer who was convicted of shooting Botham Jean … an unarmed 26 year old man sitting on the sofa in his apartment eating ice cream. She has steadfastly maintained it was a tragic accident—that she got confused and thought he was an intruder in her apartment when, in fact, she was mistakenly intruding and entering his. I don’t know what to make of her claim because, on the one hand, I have never been so tired and/or confused to where I walked in the wrong door thinking it was my house. At the same time, I also haven’t dealt with the unique stresses and pressures that accompany a career in law enforcement—the knowledge that a routine traffic stop, or the execution of an arrest warrant, could turn deadly in a split second because the culprit might pull a gun and how that sensitivity can mess with your thought process.
In a society that is exceptionally sensitive to racial issues due to the wrongful and unjust treatment of black people over the years, the fact the offender was white and the victim was black couldn’t help but cast a shadow over the proceedings. Was the jury going to exonerate a white defendant who took the life of an unarmed black man? Were they going to reach a verdict that showed that they believed his life mattered?
While the only exposure I got to the trial were news reports and brief videos here and there, there were a couple of things that made a powerful impression on me. The first was excerpts from Guyger’s testimony when she took the stand in her own defense. You could tell this was an exceptionally broken young woman. A horrible thing happened, and it has hung over her life every day since. Her life turned in that tragic moment and will never be the same. Just as what happened on 9.11 changed the lives of those of us that are Americans, so Amber Guyger’s life has been unalterably impacted by that deadly, tragic event.
Second was the video, at the sentencing phase of the trial, where the victim’s 18 year old brother Brandt spoke. He articulately expressed his forgiveness for the defendant, but then stunned everyone by asking the judge if he could hug her—a request the judge granted. (If you haven’t seen the gripping footage of this exchange, you can do so at https://www.facebook.com/MikeLeslieWFAA/videos/419595078697741/).
There are a few thoughts, as it relates to the topic of forgiveness, that come to me as I reflect upon that incredible event.
First—forgiveness is, as Philip Yancey refers to it in his book What’s So Amazing About Grace? “an unnatural act.” It is not some idealistic commodity that is doled out like hand sanitizer from a dispenser, for behind every expression of forgiveness is an act of betrayal or treachery. That’s what makes forgiveness excruciatingly difficult—we’ve been hurt … or wronged … or mistreated in some way. That’s also what makes it exceptionally compelling and captivating when we see it in action.
Second—words of forgiveness, while honorable and virtuous sounding, are pretty hollow unless they are supported by complimentary actions. While Brandt Jean’s words were compelling and moving, it was his willingness and desire to hug the defendant that truly carried the weight and let her know the forgiveness he offered was real. You cannot truly forgive someone while keeping your distance or maintaining a separation in the relationship. What makes forgiveness real is the actions that reinforce the words, and that requires incredible courage on the part of the forgiver.
Third … forgiveness does not minimize the nature or reality of what happened—in fact, it’s because what happened was so awful and abhorrent that forgiveness is necessary to begin with. Neither is forgiveness the elimination of consequences or the immediate restoration of trust. It is simply releasing the person to the control of God—leaving their fate in His hands—and wanting the best for them.
And finally—when forgiveness is genuinely and authentically extended, it demonstrates the transformative power of the gospel. When we know that we have been forgiven, we are much more able to forgive others. When we are the recipient of mercy and grace, we want to pay forward the grace that has changed us.
We saw it a little over a decade ago in Pennsylvania when an individual barged into a one-room schoolhouse in an Amish community and shot eight of ten girls ages 6-13, killing five, before taking his own life. Within a couple of days, members of the Amish community were at the home of widow, as well as the shooter’s parents, expressing their sorrow and forgiveness. We saw it in Charleston, South Carolina where the rage of a racist young man was met with redemption from the victim’s families in the wake of a shooting at the Mother Emanuel AME Church which took nine lives including that of the Senior Pastor. And we saw it again in Dallas where an 18-year old young man demonstrated the bravery and courage to do something that can bring about healing.
Some people, I’m sure, look at Brandt Jean’s actions as sincere yet naïve … honorable yet child-like in their innocence. But Jesus himself said, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven (Matt. 18:3 – NIV). Perhaps it took the inspiring example of an 18-year old “child” to remind us that, at the end of the day, the message of the gospel is incredibly simple while also being incredibly demanding and difficult to live out. But when we rise above the difficulties and demonstrate its practical realities in the crucible of real life, the result is something that garners the attention and captures the imagination of the surrounding world.