Forgiveness is one of the most powerful acts we humans can muster. When offered unexpectedly and unconditionally, it reshapes--if even for an instant--the lives of all who see or experience it, almost always cementing in both the forgiver and the forgiven the closest possible picture of the moment God receives us as His children through grace.

"But I say to you who hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you." Jesus, in Luke 6:27-28

      The scene at Appomattox that April morning was biblical in its' scale and emotion. It was biblical, too, in its' replication of one of the Bible's most moving passages; the moment when a once-conniving, now-fearful Jacob returned to face Esau, the brother who swore to kill him on sight. The instantaneous embrace and its' accompanying forgiveness shook Jacob.

      Forgiveness is one of the most powerful acts we humans can muster. When offered unexpectedly and unconditionally, it reshapes-if even for an instant-the lives of all who see or experience it, almost always cementing in both the forgiver and the forgiven the closest possible picture of the moment God receives us as His children through grace.

      Still, Esau and Jacob were just two men at war; could something so personal expand its drama to include two armies. Two men would try that April morning in Virginia, and the world still marvels at the moment.

      What some had thought could never happen had indeed happened; the war that "couldn't last long" had dragged an entire nation into its abyss, tearing families apart with its' vicious, unmerciful grip. Declared finished at last, emotions still ran deep on both sides.

      Troops of the once-proud Confederate Army struggled against their humiliation as they surrendered to the will of a deliriously happy Union army. It would take but one taunt, one shot fired in error; even something that just sounded like a shot to trigger an unholy last battle, where hand-to-hand combat and point-blank cannon-fire would scatter the dream of ending America's first and worst loss of life.

      Surely the wisdom of Solomon and the courage of King David were needed now.

      Enter Joshua Chamberlain, one of the great heroes of Gettysburg, who was selected by Ulysses S. Grant to oversee the surrender at Appomattox Courthouse on April 12, 1865.*

      Chamberlain positioned his Union soldiers on both sides of the road that morning. Relief was at hand for this still-young nation, and the professor-turned-soldier watched as the entire Army of Northern Virginia marched in battle array between his troops.

      Leading the defeated up the dusty road was John Gordon, picked by Robert E. Lee for this difficult and humiliating exercise. Eyewitnesses described Gordon's face as downcast, eyes searching out some distant place on the ground in a symbolic gesture of resignation and grief.

      Alas, the moment was at hand: Victory often breeds defeat when winners gloat. Defeat often breeds disaster when losers are defiant. On the heels of the most vicious bloodletting in American history, there was little reason to believe in those "better angels of our nature" Abraham Lincoln called out in his first inaugural address.

      Then something strange took place.

      Gordon heard clanks and rustles among the Union troops, and knew in an instant what was happening: Chamberlain had ordered his troops to salute the defeated enemy as they passed! No gloating here, no loud taunts or vicious reprisals: Only silence and the moving scene of soldier saluting soldier, each side marveling at grown men with "cheeks wet with tears."

      It was left to the vanquished to match this uncharacteristic kindness, and Gordon did not miss the moment. History notes that "at this clatter of arms he (Gordon) raises his eyes and instantly catching the significance, wheels his horse with that superb grace of which he is master, and drops the point of his sword to his stirrup...," returning in defeat the graceful salute offered in victory.

      That moment, marvelous for its picture of what power we humans possess when we look to heal instead of to avenge; when we long to reconcile rather than recoil, is but a pale reflection of the majesty of that instant when Jesus gave up His life to sweep away the wrongs that separate us from a loving Father.