THE SPITE HOUSE
In 1882, a New York City businessman named Joseph Richardson owned a narrow strip of land on Lexington Avenue. It was 5 feet wide and 104 feet long. Another businessman, Hyman Sarner, owned a normal – sized lot adjacent to Richardson’s skinny one. He wanted to build apartments that fronted the avenue. He offered Richardson $1000 for the slender plot. Richardson was deeply offended by the amount, and demanded $5000. Sarner refused, and Richardson called Sarner a tightwad and slammed the door on him.
Sarner assumed the land would remain vacant, instructed the architect to design the apartment building with windows overlooking the avenue. When Richardson saw the finished building, he resolved to block the view. No one was going to enjoy a free view over his lot.
So seventy year old Richardson built a house. Five feet wide, and 104 feet long and four stories high with two suites on each floor. Upon completion, he and his wife moved into one of the suites.
Only one person at a time could ascend the stairs or pass through the hallway. The largest dining table in any suite was eighteen inches wide. The stoves were the very smallest made. A newspaper reporter of some girth once got stuck in the stairwell, and after two tenants were unsuccessful in pushing him free, he exited only by stripping down to his undergarments.
The building was dubbed “The Spite House.” Richardson spent the last fourteen years of his life in the narrow residence that seemed to fit his narrow state of mind.
MOVE OUT OF THE SPITE HOUSE
The Spite House was torn down in 1915, which is odd. I distinctly remember spending a few nights there last year. And a few weeks there some years back. If memory serves correctly, didn’t I see you squeezing through the hallway?
Revenge builds a lonely house. Space enough for one person. The lives of its tenants are reduced to one goal: make someone else miserable. They do. Themselves.
No wonder God insists that “we keep a sharp eye out for weeds of bitter discontent. A thistle or two gone to seed can ruin a whole garden in no time” (Hebrews 12:15 MSG)
God’s healing touch includes a move out of the spite house, a shift away from the cramped world of grudge and towards spacious ways of grace, away from hardness and towards forgiveness. He moves us forward by healing our past.
Can He really? This mess? This history of sexual abuse? This raw anger at the father who left my mother? This seething disgust I feel every time I think of the one who treated me like yesterday’s trash? Can God heal this ancient hurt in my heart?
FORGIVING JERKS? REALLY??
Take the story of Joseph. Sold into slavery by his ten brothers. Thrown into prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Abused, neglected, forgotten. But circumstances changed, and in miraculous fashion he went from prisoner to prince of the land in a matter of days.
And then his brothers came back on the scene. Hungry, wanting to buy food for their families. And he just happened to be in charge. Could he be blamed if he’d retreated to the spite house?
He snapped at them, accused them of treachery, and had them thrown into jail. “Take that, you rascals!”
Joseph Was Human
Isn’t it good to know that Joseph was human? The guy was so good it hurt. He endured slavery, succeeded in a foreign land, mastered a new language, and resisted sexual seductions. He was the model prisoner and perfect counselor to the king. Scratch him, and he bled holy blood. We expect him to see his brothers and declare “Father, forgive them, for they knew not what they did” (see Luke 23:34). But he didn’t. He didn’t do that because forgiving jerks is the hardest trick in the bag.
But God says…
“Don’t let the sun go down while you are still angry” (Ephesians 4:26 NLT)
“Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamour and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice” (Ephesians 4:31)
As Christ forgave you, so you must also do” (Colossians 3:13)
Really, God?
SMALL MATTER OF VENGEANCE
A friend was six years old when her mother ran off with a salesman, leaving her to be raised by a good hearted Dad who knew nothing about dolls, dresses, or dates. The father and daughter stumbled through life and made the best of it. Recently the Mom reappeared, like a brother out of Canaan, requested a coffee date with her daughter, and said, “I’m sorry for abandoning you.” The Mom wants to reenter her daughter’s world.
Forgiveness Seems Too Easy
My friend’s first thought was, That’s it? I’m supposed to forgive you? Seems too easy. Doesn’t the mom need to experience what she gave? A few years wondering if she will see her daughter again. Some pain – filled nights. A bit of justice. How do we reconcile the pain of the daughter with God’s command to forgive? Isn’t some vengeance in order? Don’t we deserve to live in the spite house?
Of course some vengeance is in order. In fact, God cares about justice more than we do. Paul admonished, “Never pay back evil for evil…never avenge yourselves. Leave that to God, for He has said He will repay those who deserve it” (Romans 12:17, 19, TLB).
We fear the evil doer will slip away into the night, unknown and unpunished. Escape to Fiji and sip mai tais on the beach. Not to worry. Scripture says “God WILL repay, not He MIGHT repay.” God will execute justice on behalf of truth and fairness.
Vengeance is in Order
Vengeance is God’s. He will repay – whether ultimately on the Day of Judgment or intermediately in this life. The point of the story? God handles all wrongdoers. He can discipline your abusive boss, soften your angry parent. He can bring your ex to his knees or her senses. Forgiveness doesn’t diminish justice; it just entrusts it to God. He guarantees the right retribution. We give too much or too little. But the God of justice has the precise prescription.
Unlike us, God never gives up on a person. Never. Long after we have moved on, God is still there, probing the conscience, stirring conviction, always orchestrating redemption. Fix your enemies? That’s God’s job.
Forgive your enemies? Ah, that’s where you and I come in. We forgive.
Back to Joseph.
KEEP ON FORGIVING: AVOID THE SPITE HOUSE
The brothers returned to Egypt from Canaan for a second purchase of food. This time Benjamin, their youngest brother, was with them. Joseph invited them all to dinner. He asked about his father, Jacob, spotted Benjamin, and all but came undone. “God be gracious to you, my son,” he blurted out, before he hurried out of the room to weep (Genesis 43:29).
Then he returned to eat with them. He seated them in birth order, and singled out Benjamin for special treatment. Every time the brothers got one helping, Benjamin got five. They noticed this. But said nothing.
Joseph loaded their sacks with food and hid his personal cup in Benjamin’s sack. The brothers were barely down the road when Joseph’s steward stopped their caravan, searched their sacks, and found the cup. The brothers tore their clothes (the ancient expression of grief or calamity) and soon found themselves back in front of Joseph, fearing for their lives.
The Spite House vs The House of Forgiveness
Joseph couldn’t make up his mind! He welcomed them, wept over them, ate with them, then played a trick on them. He was at war with himself. These brothers had peeled the scab off his oldest and deepest wound. And he’d be hanged if he’d let them do it again. On the other hand, these were his brothers, and he would be hanged before he lost them again. The spite house versus the house of forgiveness.
Forgiveness vacillates like this. It has fits and starts, good days and bad. Anger intermingled with love. Irregular mercy. We make progress only to make a wrong turn. Step forward and fall back. But this is okay. When it comes to forgiveness, all of us are beginners. No one owns a secret formula. As long as you are trying to forgive, you are forgiving. It’s when you no longer try that bitterness sets in and you end up in the spite house.
Stay the course. You’ll spend less time in the spite house and more in the grace house. And as one who has walked the hallways of both, I can guarantee you are going to love the space of grace.
Source:
You’ll Get Through This
Max Lucado
https://maxlucado.com/youll-get-through-this/