Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” Matthew 18:21-22
Jesus, I come to you this morning very ambivalent—with two conflicting sets emotions at work. I have great gratitude in my heart and, yet, multiple knots in my “gut.” The gratitude is about the exhaustive forgiveness we have in you. The knots are about the costly implications of that same forgiveness. As I pray for myself, I pray for others with the same struggle to love well in broken stories that just won’t seem to go away.
As you well know, Jesus, I ran into an old friend recently with whom I’ve shared a lot of life and no small heartache. That run-in was kind of like bumping a previously broken shin into the corner of a low-sitting coffee table. I winced with pain and wanted to scream. Even worse, I did harm to him in my heart. And that’s just as stupid as kicking the low-sitting coffee table.
Jesus, I thought I was over the hurt. I thought I’d already forgiven him from my heart. I thought I was already healed. I thought I’d dealt with this thing a long time ago. But that’s obviously not true. Out of sight might be out of mind, but it’s not out of the memory band of betrayal and loss.
So I come to you today for 77-times grace. I’m being held hostage by my own unforgiveness. Certainly the gospel is big enough and powerful enough to set me free. So I humble myself before you, Jesus. I may never enjoy the gift of my brother’s repentance, at least this side of heaven… but there’s no justification for me tying my repentance to his.
I’m to forgive him as you’ve forgiven me. It’s as simple and as costly as that. No, I’m not to be a doormat, but I am to be a doorway to the miracle of reconciliation. By the work of the Holy Spirit, I ask you to show me what that will entail in these next several weeks. Some broken relationships are less complex than this one. Some are no-brainers, in terms of applying the gospel. But this one’s different.
Jesus, you’ve promised me all the wisdom I need, and I’ll take it. But I also ask you for a great measure of determination, strength and follow-through. Low-sitting coffee tables can morph into coiled rattlesnakes in time, and the venom of unforgiveness is just too toxic to ignore. Untie the knots in my gut with your liberating hands. So very Amen, I pray… we pray, in your redeeming and restoring name.