I suppose I’d read and heard the Old Testament story of Abigail’s offering to David many times over the years. (See 1 Samuel 25) Still, I’d totally missed the deeper meaning that James L. Ferrell pointed out in his book The Peacegiver.1 You remember the story: David, who had recently done a great service to Nabal, securing his flocks, sent some of his men to request sustenance. Nabal “rails on them” and turns them away. David and his men, seething at the injustice, determine to march against his household and slay all the males. Abigail, Nabal’s wife, becomes privy to the plot,  gathers great stores of food, and hastens to intervene. She approaches David, offering to make up for her husband’s affront to the men.

I always thought Abigail was being a really brave and loving wife to intercede with David in hopes of securing her husband’s safety. But there is so much more to it than that. Ferrell explains the symbolism as Abigail kneels before David and his men, and says, “Upon me let this iniquity be,” offering, as Christ does, to take another’s sin upon herself and, in her case, atone for it by offering many times the goods he had requested of her husband. But here is the kicker, Abigail’s concern is not only to save her husband and the men of her household, but to save David from doing this great wrong, to keep his previously unsullied soul safe. She said, “Please accept of my offering, that this shall be no grief unto thee.”

Inexplicably, she says, ”forgive my trespass,” claiming the sin as her own. Abilgail asked David’s forgiveness not because she needed it (she, like Jesus, had done nothing wrong) but because David needed to forgive instead of multiplying Nabal’s sin with his own. Through her merciful act Abigail created the most forgiveness-friendly environment possible. She offered to compensate for the sin David was raging against, full measure, running over—much more than he had originally asked for.

Farrell explains that Jesus does the same with us in every situation where we are wronged by another; thus Abigail is the perfect “type” of the Savior’s merciful dealings with his children. 

We can see many applications of this story in daily life scenarios. Sometimes, the offense to us may be huge, sometimes small, but the temptation is the same: to allow the wrong done to us to justify feelings and actions that cause us to lose the Spirit at least, our souls at most.

I recently heard a man relate a personal experience that illustrates this principle. He was going to Home Depot on a Saturday morning to get a new disposal to replace the one that was leaking under his sink. He couldn’t afford a plumber and was loathing the idea of spending Saturday doing this task. He wanted very much to get it done as quickly as possible. When he pulled into the parking lot it was completely full. He saw a man return to his car and positioned his car to take his spot when he pulled out. He tried to be patient while the man got into his car, and fumbled with a map, because the parking place was close to the entrance. Just as the man pulled out, another car pulled around him and screeched into the empty stall taking the place he had clearly been in line for.

He was livid, and his response was not polite! He raged at the man all the while he found another spot, made his purchase and came back to his car. He was sorely tempted to key the person’s car who had done him wrong or slash his tires (as some punk had done to his car recently), but resisted. As he pulled out of the parking lot he realized that his rage had caused him to lose the Spirit and prayed repeatedly for forgiveness and that he might regain the Spirit.

Finally he was given a glimpse into this other man’s heart—that he, too, was facing an unwanted project that would eat up a lot of his precious time on his only day off, and almost in desperation had gone for the only possible parking place he had seen. He recognized this was a brother, and had compassion for him and was able to forgive him and ask forgiveness for his own unrighteous reaction the Spirit flowed back into his heart.

How many times has my reaction to being wronged been a far more serious transgression than the one I was reacting to? How many times have I lost the Spirit because of it? Why am I tempted to think that a wrong done me by someone else justifies resentment, anger, or unkind feelings? Every time that happens, Satan laughs because He has accomplished his purpose of making me miserable.

In Luke 6:37 we read, “Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.”

In D&C 64:9 we read, “Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.”

It is the greater sin, because it is the one we are accountable for, the only one we can do anything about. We can’t repent of someone else’s sin against us, but we can repent of the hardness of heart that may result from our lack of forgiveness, and that is the sin that hurts us most.  Let me give you a personal example. Although he is wonderful in many ways, believe it or not my husband is not perfect. (One of his virtues is that he’d be the first to admit it!)   Many times I have been tempted to the greater sin by focusing on his shortcomings. My own lack of charity can be the beam in my eye blinding me to the bounteous good in him, while his problems are little motes in comparison. Every time I’ve decided I needed to call him to repentance, I’ve learned that the greater need for repentance was mine! I told the following story about one such time in my book, Trust God No Matter What. 3

I remember clearly the Saturday night conference meeting when our visiting Authority, addressed the subject of marriage; we were so close to him that I could clearly see the earnestness on his face.

He counseled us to be kind in our dealings with our spouse. Then, he seemed to look right at me, and his words went right to my heart.  The message was that only the Savior knows our spouse's great potential. We personally offend Him when we judge our spouse harshly.

Just that week I'd been in a judgmental, self-righteous mindset, fearful of the future, certain that the problems in our marriage could never be resolved unless he changed. I sat in tears realizing my own need to change. Later that evening I was so grateful for my husband's kind response when I asked his forgiveness.

Looking back, the contrast is amazing between the misery I have felt whenever I self-righteously judge others, contrasted with the sweetness of the Spirit when I can see my own need to repent and ask forgiveness. That night when I responded to Church leader’s inspired words, a surrender of sorts, I felt the rest of the Lord. The adversary can only keep me miserable if I forget to apply the sweetness of repentance and forgiveness, the sweetness of resting in His way.

This story brings me back Into Farrell’s book, The Peacegiver. Farrell teaches great lessons through the Grandpa’s words to his grandson, Rick, who was bitter and unforgiving toward his wife. Grandpa explained that when we withhold forgiveness from others, we are in effect saying that the atonement alone is insufficient to pay for their sins. We are holding out for more. The Lord is right there, kneeling before us, assuring us of His total ability to recompense us for the hurt of their sins because His atonement is never lacking. But we are finding fault with the Lord’s offering. We are in essence demanding that the Lord repent of an insufficient atonement. So when we fail to forgive another it is as if we are failing to forgive the Lord—who needs no forgiveness.2

Applying the Abigail Principle

The Savior, in absolute humility, kneels before us offering the bounteous blessings of the Atonement for the poor choices of others. The Atonement Jesus offers promises to “make up” for the hurts and affronts and wrongs done to us by others—to heal us and restore us and make our lives even better than before. Like Abigail The Savior offers much more than what we originally wanted from the person who wronged us (sometimes through the great life lessons we learn from the experience).  Like Abigail, His great concern is to keep our souls safe from anger, revenge, and from withholding forgiveness. His concern is to open heaven’s windows to us, to make the Atonement available, to save us from the “greater sin” of lack of forgiveness of others that can keep the Lord from forgiving us.

When Jesus said in the Lord’s prayer, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive our trespassers, He was teaching us an inescapable fact, a law. If we are holding anger, malice, or resentment in our hearts for anyone, withholding forgiveness for any reason, those feelings close or harden our hearts to the love and forgiveness of God. And we are the ones who have shut the door, not Him. It is something like the law of the harvest--there is no receiving without giving. Dead-sea hearts that want to receive without giving are themselves damming their capacity to receive. As we give, it is given unto us. That is the law of life.

The Lord said, in D& C 82:1, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, my servants, that inasmuch as you have forgiven one another your trespasses, even so I, the Lord forgive you.”

May the symbol of Abigail’s offering, of her humbly kneeling, of her compassionate desire to save David from “the greater sin”  inspire and bless us daily. May we remember that the Savior’s atonement is great enough to cover every wrong done to us as well as every wrong that we commit. May we open our hearts to His compensating blessings by being willing to have His spirit teach us how to forgive.

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