Exodus 14:19-31 Ps 114 Romans14:1-12 Matthew 18:21-35
There are some words in Scripture that seem simple when we first hear them but become much harder when we try to live them. Forgiveness is one of those words. We know it matters. We pray for it every time we say the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.”
We know that mercy sits at the heart of the gospel. And yet forgiveness can also be one of the most difficult works of the Christian life. Today’s readings do not treat forgiveness as a small matter or a pleasant idea. They place it in the great story of God’s saving mercy. Psalm 130 begins with a sober truth: “If you, O Lord, should note what we do wrong, Lord, who could stand?”
The answer is clear: none of us. If God kept a careful account of every failure, every hard word, every selfish action, every hidden resentment, none of us would have a leg to stand on. But the psalm does not end in fear. It turns towards hope: “But there is forgiveness with you.”
That is where the Christian life begins. Not with our goodness, but with God’s mercy. Not with our ability to make everything right, but with God’s willingness to forgive, restore, and lead us into freedom. The first movement of faith is not to prove ourselves worthy; it is to receive the mercy of God and allow that mercy to change us.
In Exodus, the people of Israel stand at the edge of the sea. Behind them is Pharaoh’s army. In front of them is water. Humanly speaking, there is no way out. Then God moves. The pillar of cloud comes between Israel and Egypt. Moses stretches out his hand. The sea is driven back. Dry ground appears where there has only been danger. The people pass through, and Israel learns that salvation is God’s gift.
Psalm 114 sings that story with wonder. The sea flees. The Jordan turns back. The mountains skip like rams. Creation itself responds to the presence of the Lord.
The point is not only that God once did a mighty thing long ago. The point is that the living God still makes a way where there seems to be no way. God still brings people out of bondage. God still turns fear into faith, despair into hope, and hard places into springs of water.
This matters when we come to the Gospel, because Jesus is not simply asking us to be nicer people. He is calling us to live as people who have been rescued. Peter asks what sounds like a generous question: “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Peter is not being mean-spirited. Seven times sounds patient. Seven times sounds above average. Seven times sounds like more than most people would manage. But Jesus answers, “Not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”
In other words, forgiveness is not to be treated as a ledger. It is not a matter of keeping count until we can finally say, “That is enough. I have reached the limit.” Jesus moves Peter away from calculation and towards the overflowing mercy of God.
Then comes the parable. A servant owes the king an impossible debt: ten thousand talents. It is not just a large amount; it is absurdly large. It is beyond repayment. The servant begs for patience, promising to pay everything back, though everyone knows he never could.
And the king does something astonishing. He does not set up a payment plan. He does not reduce the interest, on the debt. He releases the man and forgives the whole debt.
That is the scale of mercy in the kingdom of heaven. God does not forgive us grudgingly. God does not forgive only the manageable parts of us. God forgives what we could never repair by ourselves.
Through Christ, God releases us from the debt of sin and draws us into a new life. But then the forgiven servant meets another servant who owes him a much smaller amount. And instead of passing on the mercy he has just received, he seizes the man by the throat and demands payment.
The contrast is shocking. He has been forgiven more than he could ever repay, yet he refuses mercy over a far smaller debt. Jesus tells this story because that danger lives close to every human heart. We can receive grace and still become hard towards others. We can thank God for mercy and still, keep careful records of other people’s failures. We can rejoice that God has not judged us as we deserve and then judge our neighbour without compassion.
That is why Paul’s words to the Romans are so important. “Welcome those who are weak in faith,” he says, “but not for the purpose of quarrelling over opinions.” The church in Rome was divided over matters of food and holy days. Some were strict; others were free. Some judged; others despised it. Paul does not tell them that convictions do not matter. Instead, he reminds them that every person belongs to the Lord. “Whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.”
That truth changes how we look at one another. The person who irritates us belongs to the Lord. The person whose opinions differ from ours belongs to the Lord. The person who has failed, struggled, misunderstood, or disappointed us still stands before the mercy of God. This does not mean pretending harm does not matter. Forgiveness is not the same as excusing wrongdoing, avoiding justice, or allowing abuse to continue.
But Christian forgiveness refuses to let resentment become our master. It entrusts judgement to God and asks for a heart shaped by mercy. That may be the most difficult part.
Forgiveness from the heart is not usually a single moment. Sometimes it is a long road. Sometimes we must pray the same prayer many times: “Lord, I am willing to be made willing.” Sometimes forgiveness begins not with warm feelings, but with the decision to stop rehearsing the injury, stop feeding revenge, and place the wound honestly into God’s hands.
And as we do that, we remember the sea. We remember that Israel did not create the path through the waters. God made the way. So too with forgiveness.
We may not be able to manufacture it by force of will. But we can stand before God with our closed fists, our hurt, our anger, and our fear, and ask God to open a way through. The God who turned the sea into dry land can also turn a guarded heart towards freedom.
The good news today is this: we are not asked to forgive, in order to earn God’s mercy. We are asked to forgive because God’s mercy has already found us.
We are not asked to release others because their debt does not matter. We are asked to release them because Christ has released us from a debt we could never pay.
So let us come again to the mercy of God. Let us bring the places where we need forgiveness, and the places where we struggle to forgive.
Let us ask Christ to free us from judgement, contempt, and bitterness. And let us pray that the mercy we have received may become the mercy we share.
May the God who opened the sea, the Christ who forgives without measure, and the Spirit who softens every heart, lead us into the freedom of mercy. Amen.