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Creekside Church
Sermon of September
15, 1996
"To Whom Much
is Forgiven"
Matthew
18:21-35
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Rev. David
Bibbee
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A
minister was putting the finishing touches on a new section
of sidewalk that had just been poured in front of his home.
On his hands and knees, he carefully swept the trowel to give
the surface a smooth, level finish. He just finished the last
stroke when one of his parishioners happened by. They engaged
in conversation for a few minutes, when from behind came a
kid on a bicycle racing down the sidewalk. Right through the
cement he went and kept right on going. In an instant the
minister looked at the tracks and then tore after the kid
on foot. Catching him, the minister chewed him up one side
and down the other. The kid could hardly get a breath in edgewise
let alone a word. Red-faced and scowling, the minister returned
to smooth out the bicycle tracks. The parishioner felt compelled
to say something. He questioned the way the pastor dealt with
the kid..."especially since just yesterday you preached on
the necessity of forgiveness." "You're absolutely right,"
the pastor replied. "But I was preaching about forgiveness
in the abstract, not the concrete."
Its
easier to deal with tough topics in the abstract, isn't
it? One of the impediments to action is discussion. If you
don't want something done, just get people talking about
it. But Jesus didn't come to form discussion groups. "Alright
gentlemen, the philosophical question of the week is, 'Who
is my neighbor?' " The truth Jesus taught wasn't abstract.
It was LIVED truth. His concern wasn't for new ideas, but
new ways of living.
Last
week we looked at the matter of forgiveness. We said it
is not natural, but goes against our basic instincts. Today
we are going to delve deeper into forgiveness, and if you
are looking for my main point, it is simply this...it is
up to the forgiven to forgive. The forgiveness we have received
requires a concrete response.
Simon
Peter asked Jesus, "How many times do I have to forgive
the guy who hurts me? Seven times?" Jewish law said the
limit was three. Twice that many plus one seemed to Peter
exceedingly generous. "Whose counting?" Jesus replied. "Are
you a disciple or an accountant? If you want a number, try
seventy times seven." It was Jesus' way of saying there
is no cap on mercy. Paltry and puny doesn't begin to describe
the disparity between God's forgiveness and ours.
As
you would expect, Jesus answered him with a parable. A King
was settling accounts with his servants. An internal audit
revealed that one man owed ten thousand talents. This was
an incredible sum, equivalent to the gross national product
of a small country. There was no way in a lifetime such
a debt could be repaid. Since he couldn't pay, the King
ordered the man, his wife and children sold into slavery
and all their possessions seized. The servant fell to his
knees in a pathetic, sobbing, slobbering heap, pleading
in a performance worthy of an academy award. "Have mercy
on me, please, and I'll repay everything." The King was
moved with compassion. He forgave the debt. The servant
didn't have to repay one red cent.
No
interpreter needed to tell Peter or us who the indebted
servant is. His pardon is our pardon. It was given not because
the pleading was so persuasive, but it was within the heart
of the King to forgive. Think for a moment of your indebtedness...not
your mortgage or what you owe VISA or Mastercard. I'm talking
about the ledger which contains all you have ever received.
Parents who cared for, guided, instructed you, who shared
faith with you and sacrificed to give you the things you
needed to make it in the world. I'm thinking of friends...friends
who have remained that way not for what you do, but for
who you are. So much we have received from so many, yet
so often we have a so what attitude. We act more like entitled
people than indebted people.
But
life owes us nothing. We are the ones who owe. Think about
all you have...the abilities, opportunities, the resources,
the blessings and the breaks. Ask yourself, "What did I
do to deserve them?" Or more to the point ask, "What did
I do not to deserve them?" The apathy, the self-centeredness.
The words and acts which cut to the quick and have created
long standing grief. Think of all the times, if you can
face them all, that we have given others and God good reason
not to remain by our side. So much has been given and forgiven.
How could we ever pay back such a debt?
Pardoning
the servants debt was no easy thing. It came at a considerable
expense. Repairing the sin trail we've left behind is no
easy thing for God, either. The paid in full receipt has
a cross on it. We stand before the King with our six digit
debt and are told, "Though your sins be a scarlet, they
shall be white as snow." We look back over the trail of
casualties and mistakes and like our prodigal brother we
say, "We are no longer worthy to be called your sons and
daughters." And to those who can bear to receive it, the
King proclaims our pardon.
I said
"bear to receive it" because our forgiveness brings with
it a knowledge of self...a candid knowledge. I have a friend
who was praying for more insight into the truths of God
and herself. Her spiritual director cautioned her that in
the process she would see other aspects of herself that
were unbecoming. "Remember," she said, "the greater the
light, the darker the shadow." The more we discover about
the depths of God's forgiveness, the more we become aware
of our sinful nature.
Aleksandr
Solzhenitsyn was the novelist who spoke out against the
communist system in the Soviet Union. In his book the Gulag
Archipelago, he described his friendship with an army officer
during World War II. They were alike in so many ways...they
felt the same on many issues, held the same values, hopes,
and convictions. Years later Solzhenitsyn was thrown in
prison with untold thousands of other innocents and he survived
only by faith and courage. His friend, however, became an
interrogator who forced confessions from innocent people
by ghastly tortures. "How," he wondered, "could two men
so much alike have taken such different paths?" He thought
that if his teachers and circumstances would have been different,
he could have become like his friend. He couldn't believe
that he was a totally good person nor that his friend was
utterly evil. Listen to how he puts it:
If
only there were vile people, committing evil deeds, they
could be separated from the rest of humanity and destroyed.
But the line dividing good and evil cuts through every human
heart. One and the same person is, under various circumstances
a totally different person. At times close to being a double,
at times close to sainthood.
God
shows us that separating the sheep from the goats is not
as easy as we think. The forgiven see the truth of themselves
and the marvelous grace of God. They are awed that God's
forgiveness for them extends deeper than their capacity
to sin. We learn that forgiveness given to us must be given
by us. Here is where the parable turns.
The
servant had just received a new lease on life. But on the
way home he ran into a man who owed him ten bucks, and the
recipient of incredible forgiveness became Snively Whiplash.
"Hand it over!" "I can't pay you now." "What do you mean
you can't pay?" He shook him by the throat as the poor man
spoke the same words the servant had spoken to the King.
"Have patience with me, please, and I'll repay you everything!"
Nothing doing. He threw the man into jail until the debt
was paid. And when the King heard what happened, he ordered
the servant back and said, "You pleaded with me to forgive
your great debt and I did, but you refused to show mercy
to a man who owed you next to nothing. Send him to Alcatraz!"
and Jesus said, "So will God do to you if you don't forgive
your brothers and sisters from your heart."
It
is so important that we get the focus of this parable straight
because it has more to say about our tendencies and responsibilities
than it does about the character of God. The parable is
not saying God will only forgive if you do. This makes God's
loving conditional, and if this is so we are all in trouble.
It tells us that when we have our forgiveness, others must
have theirs. When we refuse to forgive, we shut ourselves
off from forgiveness. Frederick Buechner says that when
we don't forgive we feed on a feast of anger and resentment
fit for a King. The chief drawback is that you are wolfing
down yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.
If
others don't receive forgiveness from us, we don't have
it either. Jesus is saying there is no life that is open
to God that is not willing to forgive. Failure to forgive
consigns us to a prison of our own making. God is no King
who revokes a pardon. We do it. And we hold the key that
leads us deeper into the heart of God's compassion, but
as someone said, "A person who can't give mercy, can't understand
how to get it."
We
aren't in the service of a vindictive King who revokes forgiveness.
Psalms 103 tells us who he is:
God
is sheer mercy and grace, not easily angered, He's rich
in love. He doesn't treat us as our sins deserve, nor pay
us back in full for our wrongs. And as far as sunrise is
from sunset, He has separated us from our sins.
This
grand gift not only descends upon us, but should flow through
us. From time to time we catch a vision of forgiveness.
It stands there shining like a beacon beyond our attempts
and failures to show us the wonders it can do.
John
Killinger tells the story of a twelve year old boy who had
witnessed the murder of his father and the brutal rape-murder
of his mother. His life seemed over. He was sent to a state
school, but he was withdrawn and did poorly. He saw one
psychologist after another, but no amount of therapy could
break through the hard shell behind which he hid. After
graduation he went to a Young Life meeting. There he heard
several young people talk about the difference Christ had
made in their lives. That night he accepted Christ amid
a river of tears. Suddenly he was no longer withdrawn. He
made new friends.
He
went to college then to law school and while there, he did
something that had been on his mind since the night he committed
himself to Christ. He went to visit the man who murdered
his parents who was serving a life sentence. The visit wasn't
a good one. But he went back a second time. He told the
man, "If God can forgive me for the terrible hatred I carried
for you, God can forgive you for what you have done."
The
prisoner was moved. On the fourth visit he surrendered his
own heart and the two joined in an astounding, tearful embrace.
Several years later the man was paroled, and the young man
who was now an attorney in a nearby city helped him get
a new job and a new start in life. Only by the power of
Christ could such an amazing thing happen.
When
those who have been forgiven much forgive, the power of
Jesus Christ is unleashed. Little bridges are rebuilt between
people. Lives are changed. And God's will for the world
is moved a little further toward its fulfillment.
[This
sermon was inspired by David Redding's treatment of the
parable of the unforgiving servant in his book THE PARABLES
OF JESUS.]
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