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It was time.
The king had postponed this unpleasantness for quite a while. He was compassionate and kind. A gracious monarch.
He wanted to be reasonable and to give every fair opportunity.
There would be no more delays. The time had come for an accounting. He knew who he had loaned money to. He had kept careful records.
His borrowers, who served in the king’s court, had been genuinely grateful. They had promised to repay the king. He had taken them at their word. He recalled their sincerity, humility, their professed honesty.
He knew their need. He could help meet it—and he did. He didn’t make them beg. He didn’t make them feel guilty. He was a gentleman.
Those who had borrowed money from him were summoned to the palace. One by one they were ushered into the king’s presence. It was time to pay up or have a good reason why they couldn’t.
One of the borrowers owed the king a huge sum. He was in no position to repay his debt. Perhaps ever. He pleaded with the king to give him more time; he’d pay it all back, he promised. There were some good opportunities ahead, right around the corner. His ship was coming in, he just knew it.
The king suspected this guy; nor was he moved by his pleadings. He ordered that this debtor be sold into servitude, along with his wife, his children, and everything he owned. It may have been harsh, but it was the only way the king would permit this debt to be cleared.
Then suddenly, the servant fell to his knees and began to weep uncontrollably. “O Sire, I beg of you, please don’t do this thing. If you can’t have mercy on me, be merciful to my wife and my children. Do what you will to me. I know I deserve this, but I beg you, upon my very life, let my family go.”
The king was moved. His eyes glistened as he watched this unfortunate man writhing in emotional agony on the floor before him, pleading for those he loved most.
His knights raised an eyebrow when the king forgave this servant his debt—not some of it, not half of it, but the whole thing. The hopeless debtor left the palace that day a changed man. He marveled at the king’s extravagant grace, his tender heart, his enormous compassion.
What monarch would do such a thing as this?
What ruler of unquestioned power and authority would show such amazing generosity? The freed debtor laughed with joy and jumped with relief all the way home. He was free! What glory! What deliverance! What mercy!
It would be nice if that’s where the story Jesus told in Matthew 18 ended. But it isn’t.
A few months later, this same servant went to a man who owed him money. He demanded immediate payment. The man begged the servant to be patient and give him time. “I’ll pay it all back, I promise.”
The servant, unmindful of his recent encounter with royal benevolence, grabbed the man by his throat. “You’ll pay or else!” he shouted in rage. The man begged for time and understanding. He begged for leniency.
Instead of kindness, the servant showed this man angry retribution. He had him arrested and thrown into prison. His wife came to this hardened and proud servant and pleaded with him to set her husband free. “He’ll be free when every penny of his debt is paid—not one moment sooner!”
Word got back to the king. Could this be the same guy he let go, after fully and unconditionally canceling one of the biggest debts ever amassed in the entire kingdom? After showing this servant incredible mercy and undeserved kindness? Now he’s done this to another debtor?
The king had this heartless and hateful servant thrown into prison. “I had mercy on you and cancelled your enormous debt,” the king told him. “Now, you have refused to show mercy upon a man who owes you much less than you owed me.”
Jesus paused for emphasis.
“That’s what my heavenly Father will do to you if you refuse to forgive your brothers and sisters from your heart” (Matthew 18:35, emphasis added).
Jesus took forgiveness seriously. He taught it. He showed it. He illustrated it. He commanded it.
His words were straight-forward and unconditional. He said you and I should not presume to worship God if we have not first reconciled to others. He accused the religious establishment of majoring on the minors and neglecting the teaching of more important things, such as mercy, justice, and faith.
Jesus horrified the self-righteous by bestowing extravagant grace upon extravagant, undeserving sinners. In his Sermon on the Mount, he elevated the standard and definition of love forever. Hate our enemies? No, love them. Forgive them. Pray for those who oppose and persecute you. Never seek vengeance, for that belongs to God alone.
There must be no place for retribution in the heart of the Christian.
If we love only those who love us—only those who share our beliefs, our values, our lifestyles, our politics, our opinions—then you and I are no different than anybody else.
God shines his sunlight on both the good and the evil among us; his rain he sends on both the just and the unjust. His love for those who see and those who are blind.
As we face the angry, divisive, and confusing headwinds of this combustible year, you and I must always remember that we once had a debt we could never pay. You and I were as helpless and doomed as that servant before the king.
Jesus Christ paid a debt he never owed. It was fully canceled. For you and me, he nailed it to the cross.
He set us free.
As he died in agony upon that cross, he asked his Father in heaven to “forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
May God bless you and your family.
In His Grace,
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