I paint a masterpiece. You then scratch/scar/scuff the product of my hard work, something of great value to me. You feel bad and want to apologize. Do you apologize to the painting, or do you apologize to its creator?
At this point, someone could point out that paintings are inanimate, whereas humans feel and experience. Shouldn't, then, the apology be re-directed to the wounded human?
Well, think of it this way: the Painter is greater than the painting; the God of the universe is greater than a human... we are only dust. Just because a specific created thing (a person) happens to be magnificent, unique, and ever so intricate, it doesn't mean that the Creator-creation relationship breaks down. It just means that the Creator is that much more greater (and, therefore, all the more worthy of being asked for forgiveness).
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—C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
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At this point, someone could point out that paintings are inanimate, whereas humans feel and experience. Shouldn't, then, the apology be re-directed to the wounded human?
Well, think of it this way: the Painter is greater than the painting; the God of the universe is greater than a human... we are only dust. Just because a specific created thing (a person) happens to be magnificent, unique, and ever so intricate, it doesn't mean that the Creator-creation relationship breaks down. It just means that the Creator is that much more greater (and, therefore, all the more worthy of being asked for forgiveness).
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One part of the claim tends to slip past us unnoticed because
we have heard it so often that we no longer see what it amounts
to. I mean the claim to forgive sins: any sins. Now unless the
speaker is God, this is really so preposterous as to be comic. We
can all understand how a man forgives offences against himself.
You tread on my toes and I forgive you, you steal my money
and I forgive you. But what should we make of a man, himself
unrobbed and untrodden on, who announced that he forgave
you for treading on other men's toes and stealing other men's
money? Asinine fatuity is the kindest description we should
give of his conduct. Yet this is what Jesus did. He told people
that their sins were forgiven, and never waited to consult all the
other people whom their sins had undoubtedly injured. He
unhesitatingly behaved as if He was the party chiefly concerned,
the person chiefly offended in all offences. This makes sense
only if He really was the God whose laws are broken and
whose love is wounded in every sin. In the mouth of any
speaker who is not God, these words would imply what I can
only regard as a silliness and conceit unrivalled by any other
character in history.
we have heard it so often that we no longer see what it amounts
to. I mean the claim to forgive sins: any sins. Now unless the
speaker is God, this is really so preposterous as to be comic. We
can all understand how a man forgives offences against himself.
You tread on my toes and I forgive you, you steal my money
and I forgive you. But what should we make of a man, himself
unrobbed and untrodden on, who announced that he forgave
you for treading on other men's toes and stealing other men's
money? Asinine fatuity is the kindest description we should
give of his conduct. Yet this is what Jesus did. He told people
that their sins were forgiven, and never waited to consult all the
other people whom their sins had undoubtedly injured. He
unhesitatingly behaved as if He was the party chiefly concerned,
the person chiefly offended in all offences. This makes sense
only if He really was the God whose laws are broken and
whose love is wounded in every sin. In the mouth of any
speaker who is not God, these words would imply what I can
only regard as a silliness and conceit unrivalled by any other
character in history.
—C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
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