How Forgiven is Forgiven?

In this present crisis and our lock-down situation, I'm sure I'm not the only one who has turned to history to occupy my time.  Like many, I'm addicted to the past and have many books on my shelves that wouldn't look out of place in the history section of a school library.  That said, my particular brand of history isn't taught in school ... at least, it wasn't when I was there, although I've a suspicion that things may have changed a little now.

I'm talking about family history.  It began long ago when I made a list of all my father's brothers and sisters and asked questions about them.  I've now built up a database of over 5,000 names, and it's still increasing.  Of course, it's not just my direct ancestors; there are their descendants, all of whom are various degrees of cousin, but also their spouses, parents, and all sorts, many of whom are not strictly my relatives at all, but lines I've followed up because they look interesting.

For what distinguishes family history from simple genealogy (a list of fathers' names, like in Matthew chapter 1) is the background stories.  One source of this additional detail is the wills they left and, with a little guidance, it's quite possible - and extremely interesting - to read these strange documents.  What was hidden, as if in a foreign language, can be revealed and understood.

To find such documents, one must search an archive; until recently, the only way was by personal visit but, with more and more being available on line, that is so much easier now and at less cost.  So long as the archive fulfils its purpose, history is not lost.  But if there's a tragic fire - during a war, for example - then not only the documents, but the historic detail they contain, is lost forever.

I recall some while ago suffering just such a loss at home.  I wanted to trace the name of a shop in Bristol that I'd been to a few years earlier.  I knew I should find it in my financial archives on the computer.  Panic!  Somehow  I must have checked a wrong box in the archiving process, and the file for that year just wasn't readable: the filename was there, but it had no volume, no contents.  That block of data was completely erased!  But then common sense began to assert itself.  I asked myself, what actually was the extent of that loss?  The transactions in that archive were no longer live; the cost has long since been borne, the debts paid; the records, if there, would be no more than history.

Now, I can hear you asking, what has all this to do with my usual Christian message?  Have the isolation and my twin obsessions with family history and money finally nudged my mind out of kilter?  Not at all.  Just take a look at Isaiah 44:21-22 ... aren't these the words of a devoted father, pining over his child sulking in the corner because he can't bring himself to face up to some dreadful misdeed?  Isn't this the way he looks at us through the lens of Jesus' death and resurrection?