I read this in a book by Jeff Lucas the other day, it really blessed and challenged me.
The scene is South Africa during the truth and reconciliation process, it is a courtroom filled with people, the accused and the accusers.
‘A frail black woman stands slowly to her feet. She is something over seventy years of age. Facing her from across the room are several white security police officers, one of whom, Mr Van der Broek, has just been tried and found implicated in the murders of both the woman’s son and her husband some years before. It was indeed Mr Van der Broek, it has now been established, who had come to the woman’s home a number of years back, taken her son, shot him at point blank range and then burned the young mans body on a fire while he and his officers partied nearby.
Several years later, Mr Van der Broek and his cohorts had returned to take away her husband as well. For many months she heard nothing of his whereabouts. Then, almost two years after her husbands disappearance, Mr Van der Broek came back to fetch the woman herself. How vividly she remembers that evening, going down to a place near a river where she was shown her husband, bound and beaten, but still strong in spirit, lying on a pile of wood. The last words she heard from his lips as the officers poured petrol over his body and set him aflame were “Father forgive them”.
And now the woman stands in the courtroom and listens to the confessions offered by Mr Van der Broek. A member of South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission turns to her and asks, “So what do you want? How should justice be done to this man who has so brutally destroyed your family?”
“I want three things, begins the old woman calmly, but confidently. I want first to be taken to the place where my husbands body was burned so that I can gather up the dust and give his remains a decent burial.”
She pauses, then continues. “My husband and son were my only family. I want secondly therefore, for Mr Van der Broek to become my son, I would like for him to come twice a month to the ghetto and spend a day with me so that I can pour out on him whatever love I still have remaining within me.”
“And finally” she says “I want a third thing, I would like Mr Van der Broek to know that I offer him my forgiveness because Jesus Christ died to forgive. This was also the wish of my husband. And so, I would kindly ask someone to come to my side and lead me across this courtroom so that I can take Mr Van der Broek in my arms, embrace him and let him know that he is truly forgiven.”
As the court assistant came to lead the elderly woman across the room, Mr Van der Broek overwhelmed by what he had just heard, faints. And as he does, those in the courtroom, friends, family, neighbours – all victims of decades of oppression and injustice – begin to sing, softly but assuredly; “Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me’
