How to Forgive Others When You Don’t Want To

Exodus 14:19-31; Matthew 18:21-35

            I watch politics as a pastor, not as a politician.  As a pastor, I can imagine the bitterness Kevin McCarthy must feel, the anger, the sense of rejection, the desire for revenge, and the temptation to spiral into depression.  Politics can be a nasty business, and many people are hurt very deeply.  As a pastor, I also know what that kind of hurt can do to us—emotionally, physically, and spiritually.  There is a reason we say “my blood was boiling.”  Something is literally happening inside our bodies that is not healthy.  That kind of anger and resentment, all the grudges, the desire for revenge, all that is toxic, and over time it can take a toll on our wellbeing.

            We’ve all been there, haven’t we?  We’ve all been treated like a thing, by a colleague.  We’ve been betrayed by someone who claimed to love us.  We’ve been stepped upon, overlooked, and beaten up.  We’ve all felt bitterness about something, anger at someone, rejection, and the sweet desire for revenge.  We’ve all been tempted by that accumulation of negative emotion to spiral into depression.  It really is a dangerous place to be.  The thought of forgiving that person almost makes us sick.  We know we should forgive.  We know our better self would forgive.  But we just don’t really want to.

            Apparently, the apostle Peter had someone in his life he didn’t want to forgive.  His question of Jesus in Matthew is quite telling:

Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive?  As many as seven times?

            Actually Peter was being pretty generous, don’t you think?  Especially since there is no indication of an apology.   Forgive someone seven times who doesn’t apologize?  That’s pretty generous.

            Notice Jesus’ response, though: “Not seven times, but I tell you, seventy-seven times.”  This was not a lesson in math, okay.  This was a theological lesson.  Forgiveness should be unlimited.

            Jesus tells a story to illustrate the lesson.  A king, Jesus says, wanted to settle accounts with one of his servants.  This servant apparently managed the king’s business affairs, and the servant had racked up an enormous debt, probably from mismanagement of the king’s wealth.  Jesus said he owed 10,000 talents.  Let me give you a little background on this.  A talent was their largest denomination of money.  It has nothing to do with singing or playing the piano.  Anybody know what our largest denomination of money is?  It’s the $100 bill. I asked a banker once why we don’t have a $1,000 bill or a $10,000 bill.  He said simply, “What if you lost it?”  I accidentally dropped my wallet in Lake Guntersville a few years ago.  Imagine if I had had a $10,000 bill in it! So our largest bill is $100.  The talent was theirs.  Ten thousand was their largest number.  We don’t have a largest number; they did and it was 10,000.  What Jesus is describing is an amount beyond calculation, their largest denomination of money times their largest number.  It was enormous.  It was unpayable.  In other words, this servant was hopelessly in debt to the king.

            Jesus says that the servant fell on his knees before the king.  He begged, “Have patience with me, and I will repay you everything.”  Remember those words.  Though they were not true—he could never repay the debt—his words are important to the story.

            The original hearers of this story probably expected a ruthless response from the king.  Surely they were surprised when the king extended mercy to the servant.  The king forgave his unpayable dept.

            But notice what happened.  As this servant left the presence of the king, forgiven a great debt, he ran into someone who owed him money.  He seized the man by the throat and said, “Pay what you owe.”  Jesus says that the man owed him one hundred denarii.  It was miniscule compared to what the first servant owed the king.  It was nothing.

            Okay, do you remember the words of the first servant when he begged for forgiveness?  The second servant said the same thing to him, “Have patience with me, and I will repay you.”

            But Jesus says that this servant who had just been shown mercy by the king refused to show mercy to the man who owed him.  This unmerciful servant threw that man into prison.  He had just been forgiven an unpayable debt, and he threw a man in prison over a miniscule debt.

            Some people saw it and reported it to the king.  The king summoned the servant and said to him,

“You wicked slave!  I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me.  Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?”  And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay the entire debt.

            Here’s what I think.  Peter’s question of Jesus was the wrong question.  How often should I forgive, Jesus?  As many as seven times?  If you’re counting, you haven’t really forgiven.  If you’re counting, the bitterness is still there, along with the anger and the desire for revenge.  If you’re counting and you get to number seven, you’re probably hoping that they’ll do it one more time.  Then you can rightfully, justifiably unleash all that boiling blood upon them.  No, Jesus said, not seven times.  Seventy-seven times.  Or as some translations read, seventy times seven.  Unlimited mercy.  Unlimited forgiveness.

            Jesus knew how destructive unforgiveness, anger, bitterness, and grudges are.  He knew we’ve got to get rid of all that because it is toxic—emotionally, physically, and spiritually.  So the question is, how?  It’s not like a light switch that we can simply turn off.  How do we forgive others, especially when we don’t really want to?  Consider these four steps.  This requires some humility.

            First, we must recognize that no one is perfect, including the person who hurt us.  When we’re angry with someone, we tend to lose our perspective about that person.  We tend to dehumanize them and think of them only as evil and mean.  Most people are not.  But we are imperfect, including our parents, our spouse, our boss, our neighbor.  No one is perfect.

            Second, we must acknowledge that the person who harmed us is more than just the person who harmed us.  Whether we want to admit it or not, she is a real human being whose personhood extends beyond the hurtful thing she did to us.  She still has the capacity for good, to love and be loved.  She is not defined only as the person who harmed us.

            Third, we must be willing to let go—of anger, bitterness, resentment, the desire for revenge.  I say we must be willing to let go.  That doesn’t mean it will happen instantly or easily.  In fact, do not expect the anger and bitterness to go away immediately.  But if we are willing to let it go, over time it will abate, and we’ll be free.

            And fourth, here’s the theological lesson: we must remember that we have been forgiven.  An enormous debt.  An unpayable debt.  “While we were yet sinners,” Paul wrote, “Christ died for us.”  The King has shown mercy to us.  The appropriate response to that gift of mercy is to show mercy to others.

            If I could speak to Kevin McCarthy (not that he would listen to anything I have to say), I would tell him that releasing the anger, bitterness, and desire for revenge could be the greatest gift he could give himself.  By forgiving others, we ultimately set ourselves free.  So be free.  By the mercy of the King, be free.

Closing Praye 

            Set us free, Lord, from all the anger and resentment that holds us bondage.  Amen.