Tonight's episode takes us into one of Jesus'
most unsettling, liberating lessons, the parable
of the unforgiving servant. It's a story that
doesn't just expose our grudges, it holds them
up to the light and asks why we're still carrying
the weight. Jesus doesn't answer Peter's question
with math. He answers with mercy. Mercy always
asks something of us. It asks us to breathe again.
Now, settle in with me. It's Wednesday night
in the Fellowship Hall. The crockpots have cooled,
the kids are allowed somewhere down the hall,
and the lights hum that soft, fluorescent hymn.
Folks shuffle in with their Bibles, burdens,
and whatever bitterness they've been dragging
behind them all week. Spirit's moving between
the tables like she always does. Quiet as a whisper,
sharp as a mirror. Let's take a breath. I'll
see you on the other side. So now that we've
cleared the decks, Wayne, Wayne's thumbs up.
So tonight we are, this is actually our last
parable we're going to look at. And we're going
to find it in Matthew 18 tonight. Just to kind
of set the scene in the story before the parable
we're looking at in Matthew 18, Jesus has just
taught about life in the upside -down kingdom.
The book of Matthew is all about Jesus showing
you what the kingdom of God looks like. But when
you compare it to the kingdoms of the world,
it looks upside -down, right? And he's trying
to show this to people who are listening to him.
so that they could possibly begin to see what
he's talking about when he's talking about God's
kingdom. So he tells these parables to try to
explain it. Right here where we're at, he's just
talked about the lost sheep, how to confront
sin gently, how heaven backs the work of reconciliation,
how two or three gathered in his name can shake
the gates of hell. And then Peter, God love him,
steps forward. And I give Peter a hard time.
So if you've been around for a while, you know
that Peter's the kind kid in class who raises
his hand when everybody else is staring down
at the floor. He's the one who says things we
often think, but we're afraid to say. He's not
trying to be difficult. He's trying to be practical
because Peter's been listening. He heard Jesus
talk about seeking the lost sheep, about confronting
a brother who sins. He heard all that kingdom
math about reconciliation and restoration and
something in Peter's chest tightened. Because
one thing Peter does start to understand is reconciliation.
It's hard work. Restoration costs something.
And Peter, like every single one of us, wants
to know where the finish line is. So Peter asks
the question nobody else wants to say out loud.
Lord, how many times do I have to forgive my
brother? Seven times? Now, before we judge Peter
too harshly, we need to understand that seven
times would have been generous by rabbinical
standards. The prevailing teaching at the time
said three times. Three strikes, you're done.
Some rabbis taught that God himself only forgives
a person three times. After that, judgment falls.
So Peter doubles it and adds one for good measure.
Offers what to him seems like radical grace.
He's not asking here about generosity. He's actually
asking about limits. He wants a number. a boundary,
a spiritual cap on mercy. He wants to know when
does he get to stop. When he closes the ledger,
he could say, I can walk away with a clear conscience
because I did my part. And right there, on that
dusty road, When the disciples are leaning in
and the Galilean sun is burning down, Jesus decides
to tell a story. Because Jesus doesn't answer
questions with math. He answers them with parables.
And he doesn't give Peter a higher number. He
gives him a totally different economy. Forgiveness
isn't math. It's mercy. It's memory. It's the
place where heaven's accounting does something
wild and unreasonable and holy. In God's kingdom,
nobody keeps a ledger. Nobody runs a tab. Nobody
says, that's strike seven, one more and you're
done. Because... Grace doesn't count sins. Grace
cancels them. And that's why Jesus tells the
story about a king, a ledger so full that it
could crush a man, and a mercy so fierce it ought
to change the way we breathe. This parable isn't
about morality. It's about mimicry. It's about
whether we become what we have received. See,
the kingdom of heaven operates on an economy
Peter doesn't fully understand yet. An economy
where the first is the last. Where the greatest
is the servant. Where losing your life means
finding it. Where a seed has to die before it
bears fruit. And in that economy, Forgiveness
isn't a transaction. It's transformation. You
don't forgive to settle a score. You forgive
because you are living on canceled debt. And
if you forget that, if you lose sight of the
mercy that has set you free, You become the very
thing grace saved you from. Friends, the reading
of Holy Scripture, the gospel account according
to Matthew in his 18th chapter, beginning with
verse 21. Peter came to Jesus and asked, Lord,
how many times shall I forgive my brother or
sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?
Jesus answered, I tell you, not seven times.
but 77 times. Therefore, the kingdom of heaven
is like a king who wanted to settle accounts
with his servants. As he began the settlement,
a man who owed him 10 ,000 pags of gold was brought
to him. Since he was unable to pay, The master
ordered that he and his wife and his children
and all that he had be sold to repay the debt.
At this, the servant fell on his knees before
him. Be patient with me, he begged, and I will
pay back everything. The servant's master took
pity on him, canceled the debt, and let him go.
But when that servant went out, he found one
of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred
silver coins. He grabbed him and began to choke
him. Pay back what you owe, he demanded. His
fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him,
be patient with me. I will pay it back. But he
refused. Instead, he went off and had the man
thrown into prison until he could pay the debt.
When the other servants saw what had happened,
they were outraged and went and told their master
everything that had happened. Then the master
called the servant in. You wicked servant, he
said. I canceled all that debt of yours because
you begged me to. Shouldn't you have had mercy
on your fellow servant just as I had to you?
In anger, his master handed him over to the jailers
to be tortured until he should pay back all that
he owed. This, Jesus says. It's how my heavenly
father will treat each of you unless you forgive
your brother or your sister from your own heart.
Friends, the reading of the word. Jesus isn't
giving a threat. He's giving an x -ray. He's
showing us what unforgiveness looks like on the
inside. unforgiveness is the torture chamber,
resentment is the jailer, bitterness, the iron
across the door. And here is the thing that nobody
tells you about holding a grudge. You think you're
punishing the other person, but you're the one
in chains. You think you're protecting yourself.
You're building your very own prison. You think
you're keeping score, but the ledger is wrapped
around your throat. When we refuse to forgive,
we reenact the violence done to us. We choke
others with the same hands that once begged for
mercy. We forget that grace set us free. Forgiveness,
beloved, is not the reward of the worthy. It's
the overflow of the forgiven. And if the overflow
stops, the well runs dry. Now, you already know
this. Forgiveness is the one spiritual discipline.
We all want exceptions for. We don't ask, how
many times must I pray? We don't ask, how many
times must I love my neighbor? But forgiveness?
That one feels expensive. Where's the line, Jesus?
Where do I get to stop forgetting? When? Do I
get to say enough is enough? Because every single
one of us in this room has a list, a face, a
memory, a taste that is still bitter to our tongue.
Maybe, maybe at this time of year, right? Maybe
it's the family member who said something at
Thanksgiving that cut so deep to the bone and
then never apologized. They smiled across the
table the next year like nothing was wrong. Every
time you see them, that wound opens back up.
Maybe it's the friend who betrayed your trust,
told your secret, threw you under the bus. And
they said they were sorry, but they did it again
and again. Maybe it's the church member who spread
gossip about you, who questioned your faith,
your motives, your character, and smiled you
in the face next Sunday. And you're supposed
to worship next to them. You're supposed to take
communion with them. You're supposed to call
them brother, sister. Maybe it's the ex -spouse
who walked out, who broke promises, who left
you with the wreckage and then moved on like
nothing happened. And you, you find yourself
still picking up the pieces years later. Maybe
it's the person who hurt your child, who bullied
them, who abused them, who damaged them. And
you have been carrying that rage like a stone
in your chest ever since. Peter's question is
our question. How many times, Jesus, just give
me a number. Give me a boundary. Tell me when
I get to be done. Jesus knows the human heart
better than we even know ourselves, doesn't give
Peter a higher number. Instead, he breaks the
calculator. Jesus tells this parable because
Peter's question reveals a heart condition. The
unforgiving servant wasn't cruel because he was
evil. He was cruel because he had forgot. He
had forgot the weight of his own debt. He forgot
that mercy let him walk out the door. Now, I
love context. So, let's talk for a moment about
the debt. This is the part that maybe sometimes
you've read this parable, you know the parable
I'm talking about, but because you missed this
piece of context, there's a whole other part
of the story you've missed. So let me see if
I can illuminate it, okay? The text says 10 ,000
talents. Now I read from the NIV tonight, it
says 10 ,000 bags of gold to make it more accessible.
That usage in the NIV actually undersells the
absurdity of what Jesus is actually saying. We've
talked about this before. A talent wasn't just
a coin, it was a unit of weight. One talent of
silver was roughly 6 ,000 denarii, a denarii
being a day's work. 10 ,000 talents equals 60
million days of work. If you worked every single
day, no Sabbath, no rest, no vacation, it would
take you 164 ,000 years to pay off that debt.
This isn't a mortgage. This isn't credit card
debt. This is the GDP of a small nation. The
entire annual tax revenue of Judea, Idumea, and
Samaria combined to only 800 talents. The servant
in this story owes. more than 12 years of tax
revenue from the three provinces combined. It's
an impossible number. And that's the point. Because
Jesus is painting a picture of debt so vast,
so crushing, so unpayable, that the only reasonable
response is despair. The servant just doesn't
owe money. He owes everything. And the servant
falls to his knees and begs, be patient with
me and I will pay back everything. But here's
the thing. He can't. It would be impossible.
Not in this lifetime, not in ten lifetimes. He's
making a promise he cannot keep because he is
desperate. And he knows his life is over. This
is a prayer of a drowning man. And the king,
listen to this, the king takes pity on him. Love
this kind of stuff, the Greek word there. Splagneozomohi.
Splagneozomohi. And it is really hard to say.
But I like using this one because of the visual
that this word means. It means to be moved in
your gut. To feel compassion so deep that it's
visceral in you. And it's also the same word
used when Jesus sees the crowd like a sheep without
a shepherd. It's the same word used when the
father sees the prodigal son and he goes running
out to meet him. It's gut level mercy. Not obligation,
not policy, not calculation, pure, unreasonable,
visceral compassion. And the king doesn't just
give him more time. He doesn't set up some payment
plan. He cancels the whole thing. Again, the
Greek word there, and it means to send away,
to release, to let go completely. Same word used
for forgiving sins. It means to dismiss something
entirely. to act as if it never existed. The
debt is gone, the ledger is blank, and the servant
walks free. And, imagine that moment. Imagine
walking into the throne room, knowing with certainty,
Your life is over. And then you walk out free.
Not on probation. Not on a payment plan. Free.
The debt that should have crushed you is gone.
That should change you. That should shatter you
and remake you. That should become the central
facet of your existence. And here's where the
parable turns. That servant who just received
a mercy so staggering that it should have undone
him. walks out of the door and finds a fellow
servant who owes him 100 denarii. 100 denarii,
that's 100 days wages, right? About four months
work. It's real money. I'm not saying it's nothing,
but compared to what he had just canceled, the
ratio is absurd. 60 million to 100. 600 ,000
to one. It's like someone forgiving a trillion
dollar debt and then you turning around and choking
someone out over 20 bucks. And that's exactly
what he does. He grabs him by the throat. Tech
says he began to choke him. Violent, physical,
personal. He has his hands around this man's
neck, cutting off his hair. Pay back what you
owe me. And the fellow servant falls to his knees,
using the exact same words the first servant
used before the king. Be patient with me, and
I will pay it back. Same plea, same posture,
same desperation. But the unforgiving servant
refuses. He doesn't remember. He doesn't connect.
He doesn't see the mirror. He throws the man
in prison until his debt is paid. Unforgiveness
is spiritual amnesia. It's what happens when
we forget the weight of our own debts. When we
forget the miracle of our own release. When we
choke others with the very hands grace set free.
So when Jesus says not seven times, but 77 times,
he's not expanding Peter's limit. He's abolishing
it. Some translations say 70 times seven or 490
times. That's still missing the point. Jesus
isn't giving a bigger number. He's giving an
impossible one. And for all of you Hebrew Bible
nerds, he's also echoing Lamech's boast in Genesis
4 and 24. If Cain is avenged sevenfold, then
Lamech 77 -fold. Lamech was bragging about...
unlimited vengeance. Jesus uses the exact same
words and flips it over and makes it unlimited
forgiveness. Where Lamech multiplied violence,
Jesus multiplies mercy. And he said, you don't
forgive because they've earned it. You don't
forgive because they deserve it. You forgive
because you. are living on canceled debt. Here's
the kingdom economy Jesus is teaching. God cancels
our unpayable debt, and we cancel each other's
smaller ones. Nobody keeps score. Nobody runs
a tab. Forgiveness becomes the very air we breathe.
The word ephemihe shows up twice in this parable.
once when the king cancels the servant's debt
in verse 27, and once in verse 35 when Jesus
commands us to forgive our brothers and our sisters.
It's the same word, the same action, and the
same release. What God did for you, you do for
others. The mercy you received, you extend. This
is not complicated theology. It's just mimicry.
You become what you've been given. Now, at the
same time, I think it's pastorally responsible
to take a moment to talk about what forgiveness
is and what forgiveness is not. Forgiveness is
not pretending the hurt didn't happen. It's refusing
to make the hurt the master of your soul. Forgiveness
is not reconciliation. Reconciliation actually
takes two people. Forgiveness only takes one.
Because you can forgive someone who never apologizes.
You can forgive someone who's dead. Forgiveness
is not trust. Trust is earned over time. Forgiveness
is given because you've been forgiven. And you
can forgive someone and still have very healthy
boundaries. And forgiveness is not forgetting.
Forgiveness is remembering without the venom.
It's being able to recall what happened without
being controlled by it. Forgiveness is not saying
it's okay. Some things are not okay. Forgiveness
is saying it's not okay, but I'm... releasing
my right to make you pay for it. And here is
the hard truth Jesus is teaching. If we refuse
to forgive, we prove that we never understood
the forgiveness that we received. The unforgiving
servant didn't just fail a character test. He
revealed the king's mercy. never actually penetrated
his heart. He walked out with a canceled debt,
but an unchanged soul. And that's the torture
Jesus is talking about in verse 34. The king
hands him over to the jailers until he should
pay back all that he owed. But remember, he can't
pay it back. It's impossible. Torture isn't a
finite sentence. It is a permanent condition.
And then in verse 35, this is how my heavenly
father will treat each of you unless you forgive
your brother or sister from your heart. The Greek
there from the heart means from the core, means
from the center of who you are. Not out of obligation,
not from guilt, not from fear. but from that
same gut -level mercy that moved the king, from
the same place where you remember your own unpaid
debt. Friend, forgiveness is not about excusing
what happened. It's not about pretending it didn't
hurt. It's not about letting toxic people back
into your life without boundaries. It's not about
being a doormat. It's not about enabling abuse.
Forgiveness is about refusing to live your life
with your hands around somebody else's throat.
Because here's what nobody tells you about this.
When you refuse to forgive, you're not punishing
them. You're torturing yourself. You're the one
in the cell. You're the one replaying the offense.
You're the one losing sleep. You're building
a prison and locking yourself inside. Peter wanted
a limit. Jesus offers liberation. He says, essentially,
forgive as many times as it takes to keep your
own soul free. And I know that's hard. And I
know some of you are sitting here tonight with
wounds so deep they have become a part of your
identity. I know some of you have been sinned
against in ways that defy language. And you're
right. I don't know what they did. But Jesus
does. And he's not asking you to do something
that he hasn't already done himself. Jesus didn't
forgive from a safe distance. He forgave from
the cross. He didn't wait for an apology. He
forgave while they were still mocking him. He
said, Father, forgive them for they know not
what they do. That's the pattern. That's the
kingdom. That is the air we forgiven people breathe.
So let me ask you, who are you choking? Whose
name makes your jaw clench when you hear it?
Whose face shows up in your mind when you can't
sleep at night? What debt are you demanding repayment
of? God's already canceled in you. And? What
if you let that go? Not because they deserve
it. Not because they've earned it. but because
you have been forgiven of an unpayable debt.
What if forgiveness isn't something you do for
them, but you actually do for yourself? What
if the torture chamber Jesus is talking about
isn't some future judgment, but the bitterness
you're living in this very second? What if the
jailer isn't God, but resentment? What if the
chains aren't divine punishment? They're your
own refusal to let go. You don't have to walk
forward tonight. You don't have to raise your
hand. You don't have to make a public confession.
Come back next week. Let grace work on the knot
inside your chest. Let mercy loosen your grip.
Let the Spirit remind you. The debt you couldn't
pay. Because when you remember what you've been
forgiven of, when you remember it, when it gets
down in your bones and it changes the way you
breathe, forgiving others stops being a burden.
Starts being the overflow. So stop counting.
Stop keeping score. Just release it the same
way it has released you. Not because you're strong
enough, but because you've been forgiven enough.
Not because the hurt doesn't matter, but because
the mercy you have received matters more. Not
because justice doesn't count, but because you
live in a kingdom where grace rewrites the ledger.
Maybe tonight, right here in this fellowship
hall, you can take one step towards freedom.
You can whisper that name to God. You can say
something like, I don't know how to forgive them,
but I don't want to be the jailer anymore. You
can ask Jesus to give you that same gut -level
mercy the king had, and you can release your
grip just a little. See if you can breathe again.
Because tonight, in this room, we're not just
hearing a parable. We're being invited into a
kingdom where nobody keeps score. Where grace
cancels what we cannot pay. Where forgiveness
becomes the only response that makes sense. Not
seven times. Not 77 times. Until the calculator
breaks. Until the mercy is all that's left. Until
you can walk away free. Amen? Amen. Thanks, guys.
If this parable is pressed onto a tender place
tonight, you're not alone. Forgiveness always
does. It's easy to talk about it in theory. Man,
it is harder than bone in real life. But hear
me. Jesus never names the wound to shame you.
He names it to free you. Whatever bitterness
you've carried into this little digital sanctuary,
whatever name tightened your chest, may the Spirit
loosen your grip tonight. You don't have to rush
it. You don't have to fake it. Just take one
small step towards the mercy that's already chasing
you down. You've been forgiven more than you'll
ever know. Let that mercy hold you while you
learn to release what's been choking you. And
before we go, let me give you the invitation
we always give around here. If what we do at
this little digital church stirs something true
in you, if it helps you breathe a little deeper,
feels like grace found you somewhere in the static,
then throw that like in the offering plate. Not
a donation, treat it like a declaration that
you're out there listening, still walking the
road with us. And if you want to know when we're
having church again, go on and tithe your subscribe.
It costs you nothing, but it tells me and the
rest of this little scattered congregation that
you're still a part of the story we're telling.
As always, be blessed. It's late. The static's
humming. And if you ain't going to send your
money to me, then just whisper that like into
the plate. Every click's a candle in the dark
telling heaven we're still here, still listening.
So before you turn that dial, throw it in the
plate.