The last decade has seen the curious development of what we generally refer to as “cancel culture.” The idea is that when somebody with a platform makes a mistake and their sins are exposed (regardless of how distant), they are immediately shunned and demonized. We’ve seen celebrities and influencers get “cancelled” for things that happened years ago, causing them to disappear from popular conscience altogether. Grace and forgiveness can often take a back seat when we get too focused on holding people to their past failures.
On a personal level, it can sometimes be tempting to imitate what we see happening online. When someone wrongs you, it is socially acceptable to vilify that person, creating a world in which you’re the victim and have the right to be discontent. Pettiness is highly valued today and in a weird way has almost become a sort of virtue. The world will tell you to take revenge and hold on to grudges for as long as you can.
I deeply understand this urge. Relationships are hard, and people can hurt you deeply while seeming to have no remorse at all. Why would you forgive someone who doesn’t even feel the need to apologize to you or acknowledge that they were ever in the wrong?
Jesus, more than anybody, understands what it means to be hurt and betrayed, and yet he offers his disciples a story which gives us a better way to look at those who hurt us.
How many times do I need to forgive somebody before I’m justified in torching them?
Then Peter came up and said to him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times.
“Therefore the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his servants. When he began to settle, one was brought to him who owed him ten thousand talents. And since he could not pay, his master ordered him to be sold, with his wife and children and all that he had, and payment to be made. So the servant fell on his knees, imploring him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ And out of pity for him, the master of that servant released him and forgave him the debt. But when that same servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii and seizing him, he began to choke him, saying, ‘Pay what you owe.’ So his fellow servant fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ He refused and went and put him in prison until he should pay the debt. When his fellow servants saw what had taken place, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their master all that had taken place. Then his master summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. And should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his master delivered him to the jailers, until he should pay all his debt. So also my heavenly Father will do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart."
Matthew 18:21-35 ESV
When Jesus tells a parable, he’s telling a fictional story to illustrate a spiritual truth. Understanding this allows us to mine the story and find out what Jesus is trying to say.
The master in the story is obviously God. The servant who owes his master an insurmountable debt is the listener. It’s you, and it’s me. The debt we owe God is the payment for our sin. Every time we sin, every time we choose to be bad rather than good, we offend God and his perfect holiness. And God’s perfect justice demands that sin needs to be punished.
That is what happens when the master comes to collect the debt. The servant knows that he is unable to pay the debt back but begs for mercy from his master even though he knows he does not deserve it. Scholars differ on exactly how much money ten thousand talents would be today, but it is far more than a servant could ever hope to repay (think millions of dollars). It is not the servant’s merits that prompt the master to forgive the debt, it is the master’s goodness.
This is what God does for us through Jesus and the cross. Rather than exacting punishment on the servant, he completely removes his debt. There are no payment plans, he simply cancels the debt. It’s like it never happened.
This of itself is an amazing truth which is worth reflecting on. But that’s not Jesus’ ultimate point in telling the story, because the narrative continues.
The newly forgiven servant goes forth with his newfound freedom and promptly goes to collect a far lesser debt from a fellow servant who owes him money. The actions of the servant and his jarring unforgiveness stand in stark contrast with the master’s loving mercy. The servant has been forgiven an enormous debt, and yet demonstrates no gratitude for the master’s actions by immediately going and acting unmercifully.
Do you see the point?
If the massive debt the servant owed the master represents the sins that you have committed against God, then the much lesser debt owed the protagonist must be some transgression someone has committed against you.
Now do you see the point?
What Jesus is telling Peter (and us) is that asking how many times we are required to forgive somebody who wrongs us is asking the wrong question. Jesus, as he so often does, broadens our vision to look at the big picture. You’ve sinned against God and offended him far worse than any one of the people in your life could hurt you. And yet, even though God would have been well within his rights to punish you and collect the debt you owe for your sin, he chose of his own volition to completely waive your debt and give you a fresh start.
So when someone wrongs you, Jesus tells you to forgive them not because they necessarily deserve it, but because you didn’t deserve it either. He forgave you a larger debt, he expects you to forgive others their much smaller debts.
This has been an unyielding truth in my adult life. It is at the same time a source of immense comfort, and yet has also many times been convicting.
It’s so tempting to want to hold grudges.
But even when the people in my life let me down and fail me, even when people hurt me repeatedly and don’t seem to even care, even when my heart feels torn and broken, I know that I’ve done far worse to God’s heart than anybody could do to be, because God’s capacity for love is far greater than mine. In my experience, it hurts worse when the hurt comes from someone you care deeply for. With that in mind, I recognize that the magnitude of God’s love for me dwarfs my capacity to love anyone else on earth.
This truth is sobering and convicting.
If God forgives you for everything you’ve done, and everything that you haven’t done, the things seen and unseen, the correct response when somebody hurts you, difficult as it is, is to reflect the undeserved grace of God by forgiving your neighbor when they stumble.
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