His name was Karl, a 21-year-old German soldier who wanted to be forgiven by a Jew for the atrocities he committed against Jews during World War II. As he lay dying in a dark, isolated hospital room, he told his story to Simon Wiesenthal, a Jewish inmate from a nearby concentration camp. In a Russian town, several German soldiers were killed by booby-trapped doors. In retaliation for the German deaths, Karl's commander had his unit place several cans of gasoline in a small three-story house and then herd approximately 200 Jewish men, woman, and children into the house before setting it on fire. One Jewish family, a mother, a father, and their small child, tried to jump to safety, but the soldiers shot them as they fell to the ground.

Several weeks after this incident, Karl's unit advanced further into Russia. One day as Karl charged out of a trench during a battle, he froze because he saw the Jewish family that jumped out of the burning house coming toward him. As he stood there motionless and afraid, a shell blew up beside him, severely wounding him. Karl's physical pain was excruciating, but his conscience produced an even greater pain because it constantly reminded him of those innocent Jews he killed. Wanting to die in peace, Karl asked Simon to forgive him on behalf of the Jewish people he killed.

Simon believed that Karl was truly repentant, and as he looked at this helpless, young man with the blood of innocent people seared into his conscience, Simon asked himself what he should do. When Simon decided what to do, he stood up, looked at Karl, and left the room without saying a word. Simon recorded this incident in his book The Sunflower and ended his story with these words: "You, who have just read this sad and tragic episode in my life, can mentally change places with me and ask yourself the crucial question, 'What would I have done?'"1

Like Karl's story, Manasseh's story is one of tragedy and human depravity. During his reign, Manasseh encouraged idolatry, practiced and encouraged child sacrifice, practiced sorcery, divination and witchcraft, and consulted mediums. When he was suspected of being involved in plotting a rebellion against Assyria, the Assyrians put a hook through his nose and yanked him all the way to Babylon (2 Chron. 33:10-11). Now, pretend you were a Jew living in Babylon, and Manasseh came to you seeking forgiveness. Ask yourself the crucial question, "What would I have done?"

Honestly, we do not know how we would have responded to either man because they committed heinous acts. As Christians, however, we must ask ourselves whether we should forgive people like Karl and Manasseh or at least point them to God's forgiveness. Let's look at three reasons why being able to forgive the Karls and Manassehs of the world is something toward which Christians should strive.

Reasons for Forgiving the Unforgivable

One reason for forgiving the unforgivable is that God calls us to be ambassadors (2 Cor. 5:20). Ambassadors speak and act as commanded by a higher authority, not on own their authority. Therefore, our mandate as Christ's ambassadors is this: "Be reconciled to God whether you like the person or not."