This past week, the Christian world lost one of our generation’s greatest voices for the gospel and effective cultural engagement. Tim Keller’s passing at the age of 72 is a loss we will feel for a long time, only partially dampened for us by the rich legacy of writing and recordings that he left behind.

His passing prompted a massive outpouring of tributes from Christian leaders of various camps and led many from outside evangelical circles to praise him as well. The common themes were his ability to communicate truth clearly to our culture, his faithfulness to his beliefs, and his irenic spirit, which refused to engage in controversies not central to his ministry focus. This latter approach prompted opposition and even attack from people on his theological left and right. Still, my appreciation for him grew as he continued as he always had—engaging objections to truth, answering them clearly but peacefully, and pointing people to Jesus. His biographer (and others) said that he had never heard him say a disparaging word about another believer.

His last message to the church network he founded in New York City encouraged them to faithfulness and engagement that was not pursuing greatness in the eyes of others. He urged what he had modeled during his decades as the Pastor of Redeemer Church in Manhattan. Planting a conservative Presbyterian church in the heart of New York was considered craziness when he began. It proved to be God’s incredibly gracious gift to the city’s people and many more.

As I reflect on the tributes to Tim Keller and his impact on my life, I’ve been prompted to consider how his gentle love for others made his ministry so powerful. Of course, the greatest power in his ministry was the gospel and his passion for knowing Jesus and for others to know him. But that passion was saturated with love for others they could sense, which seems like it should be assumed but can’t be in our day.

Throughout this past week, I’ve considered Keller’s example and thought of how easy it is for me to be less charitable to those who have hurt me or my reputation. Today, that was again brought into clear focus by Keller and a much older, much longer departed Reformed preacher—J. C. Ryle. I heard a Keller interview on the nature of forgiveness. But before that, I read Ryle’s very pointed statement about forgiveness from his exposition on the Sermon on the Mount. Here is what confronted me this morning.

Our "Father in heaven" is kind to all. He sends rain on good and on evil alike. He causes "His sun" to shine on all without distinction. A son should be like his father. But where is our likeness to our Father in heaven, if we cannot show mercy and kindness to everybody? Where is the evidence that we are new creatures, if we lack charity? It is altogether lacking. We must yet be "born again."

For another thing, if we do not aim at the spirit and temper here recommended, we are manifestly yet of the world. Even those who have no religion can "love those who love them." They can do good and show kindness, when their affection or interest moves them. But a Christian ought to be influenced by higher principles than these. Do we flinch from the test? Do we find it impossible to do good to our enemies? If that be the case, we may be sure we have yet to be converted. As yet we have not "received the Spirit of God." (1 Cor. 2:12.) There is much in all this which calls loudly for solemn reflection. There are few passages of Scripture so calculated to raise in our minds humbling thoughts. We have here a lovely picture of the Christian as he ought to be. We cannot look at it without painful feelings. We must all allow that it differs widely from the Christian as he is (Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels, Matthew 5:38-48, Kindle Edition).

Yes, this did arouse the “painful feelings” that Ryle intended. Thankfully, as Keller spoke on forgiveness, he reminded me of two truths that help us. First, forgiveness begins with a decision, not a feeling, instead of vice versa. We choose to forgive, and then we seek to implement that choice daily. Eventually, our feelings conform to our choice if we seek the Lord’s grace. Our practice of forgiveness requires just that—practice, and it will often be imperfect along the way.

The second truth is that the Father has perfectly forgiven us through the work of the Lord Jesus. He sees us through the lens of perfect righteousness imputed to us and perfect atonement for sin made.

I am only six years younger than Tim Keller when Jesus called him home. But my prayer today was that the years I have left would be marked by an ever-increasing gentleness and forgiving spirit that springs from a greater appreciation for the forgiveness I’ve received.