That’s no accident. There’s a reason for it and I call it the shirt button rule. When I was a small child, learning to dress myself, every morning I seemed to do my shirt buttons up wrongly. Most days, I would start in the middle and work up… “Oh, two buttons left and only one buttonhole. It’s not straight. OK, let’s undo the buttons and start again... This time, start at the bottom and work up. There we go… Oh! It’s still not straight. What’s happened there then? Ahh, that one’s the spare button, that’s why it’s all out of kilter again.” My mum used to walk in and say, “John, you’ve taken half an hour to button your shirt and it’s still all wrong. You’ve got to start at the top with the collar button and then work down.” She was a born theologian, my mum.
Here’s the shirt button rule: In all my thinking about God, his kingdom, my life, my work, the church, my family, the world – the only way to get it all in the right order, in the proper perspective is to start at the top, with God. If we get God right we get everything else right too. If we take mere human wisdom as our starting point we get God, life, the world, relationships, everything out of line.
Whenever I’m at a crossroads in life; job issues, relationship tensions, money difficulties… top button first - what does God think about this? What would he want me to do here? Or whenever a question raises itself; what about Asylum seekers in Stockton? Should I bother about global warming? What about the plight of the unborn? What should I say about the BNP? Top button first - how does God feel? Where is God on this issue?
Well, we got to the “us” half of the Lord’s Prayer last week. Give us today our daily bread. It’s about asking God for what we need, not necessarily what we’d like. What we need – which is enough to live on, and some to give away. The God we know though Jesus Christ is the God who, according to Psalm 52, owns the cattle on a thousand hills and the wealth in every mine. He is the God who defines himself as Yahweh Jireh – the Lord is my Provider. As SM Lockeridge put it, “No far-seeing telescope can bring into visibility the coastline of his shoreless supplies and no barrier can hinder him from pouring out his blessing.”
But Jesus didn’t just tell us we can pray for food, did he? He also told us that we need to pray for forgiveness - and express to God our readiness to forgive anyone who has wronged us.
Janet needs to forgive Derek for criticising her last week; he didn’t mean any harm and probably doesn’t even know how he hurt her feelings.
Fred needs to forgive a client who inconvenienced him by being late for an appointment. It was a small thing – but it meant he couldn’t get home to see his daughter before she had to go out. And he resented that.
Karen needs to forgive her husband for taking the car before asking if she needed it – which, it just so happened that she did.
I need to forgive the cat for getting me up in the middle of the night meowing.
All these are fictitious, but realistic, examples (except the one about cat, it really did wake me up at 3:00am). These things are all trivial really, but those little bits of gunk that we unthinkingly wash down the plughole end up blocking the drain. And minor resentments, that are not dealt with, over time, become major issues.
For example (and this is a true story) Richard Daley was a famous and popular Mayor of Chicago. He was an absolute giant on the political scene there and was re-elected several times. His total career as Mayor spanned from 1955 to 1976, that’s 21 years, a record that still stands to this day.
One morning his speech writer came to see him to ask for a rise. “I’ve been writing your speeches for years now and my pay is still the same as it was when you first hired me. I think I’m worth a bit more.” Well, Mayor Daley didn’t take kindly to this sort of request so he turned round and said, “Now listen up. You better forget what you just said. The fact that you work for an all-American hero such as Mayor Richard Daley ought to be reward enough.”
The following day, Mayor Daley had an important engagement. He rarely had the time to rehearse his speeches; so what happened usually was that he was briefed on the next engagement on the way there by his staff and he was handed a wad of paper just before he stood up to speak.
So here he is, one afternoon, about to address a huge public gathering to honour all the war veterans of the state of Illinois. Everybody is there; the State Governor, the national TV news crews, all the big cheeses from the armed forces – you name it. And so Daley begins his speech.
“Veterans of Illinois, I stand here today and salute you. The freedom we enjoy today we owe to men and women of valour like you. We are proud of your courage, your dedication, your heroism and your professionalism. And lest anyone forget the sacrifice you have made on our behalf, I announce today a 17 point plan of entirely new policy measures to keep the flame of your noble legacy burning for years to come.”
Everybody holds their breath. You can hear a pin drop. What is the good Mayor going to announce? Seventeen new policy measures? What is he going to say? Everyone wants to know. Mayor Daley himself wants to know! He turns the page of his speech notes and there, written in large letters, it just says, “You’re on your own now you all-American hero!”
If only Daley’s speech writer had been more… forgiving. But have you ever spent hours, or days, or longer harbouring resentment and nursing a seething dislike for someone who has done you wrong? I have. It’s one of the hardest things to stop doing; it’s like trying to get a red wine stain out in the wash - no matter what soap you use it’s always there.
When I was a kid we used to say the Lord’s Prayer at school. And I was always a bit curious about this bit. “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” I wonder how many kids couldn’t get out of their mind the image of a signpost in Jesus’ front garden saying, “Trespassers will be prosecuted” and Jesus coming out and getting really irate because we were treading on his lawn again.
So we had to say, “Oh, forgive us our trespasses.”
Of course, it’s nothing to do with being on anyone’s property and the modern version says “sins” which covers a bit more doesn’t it? “Forgive us our sins.” In fact, more literally, it’s forgive us our sins just as we have forgiven those who have sinned against us.”
I think we know what this means. It is spelt it out uncomfortably for us in Matthew 6.14-15 where Jesus says, “If you forgive others when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” I can’t wriggle out of that one. It means what it seems to mean. Jesus says here that the amount of forgiveness we get from God is directly proportionate to the amount of forgiveness we release to others who have hurt us. I’ll come back to that word “release” later.
Whenever I preach about forgiveness I feel nervous; I half expect someone to say to me afterwards, “It’s all right for you to talk about forgiveness, but let me tell you what happened to me…” And then they tell me about something appalling in their life; ‘A’ was rejected by his mother, ‘B’ was raped by her uncle, ‘C’ was humiliated in public by her husband, ‘D’ and ‘E’ were left out of their parents’ will after years of loving care. ‘F’ became an alcoholic because ‘G’ drove him to it. ‘H’s son committed suicide because he was constantly bullied and the school did nothing.
Saying “I forgive you” to someone who has irrevocably spoiled your life is one of the hardest things it is possible to do. How much forgiving do you have to do?
Apparently, the rabbis in Jesus’ day often discussed this very question. How many times can you forgive the people who have damaged your life before you just can’t do that anymore?
You can just imagine how pulsating those rabbinical council meetings must have been can’t you? “Right chaps, first item on the agenda tonight; matters arising, how many times do you have to say, “Behold, thou hast done much smiting unto my camel, but, lo, that’s OK” before you can legitimately declare, “Hark, thou hast gone a bit too far this time! Verily I say unto thee that thou art not forgiven at all. My camel hath been smote asunder and yea, I have got the hump!?”
And it transpires that the rabbis eventually agreed, after much deliberation, that three times was about right. “Oh, all right, I forgive you. Oh, all right, I forgive you. Oh, all right, I forgive you.” But if you trespassed a fourth time, well, that was different. Nobody had to forgive anyone for anything after three strikes.
So when Peter comes up to Jesus in v21 and says, “Lord, how many times should I forgive someone who sins against me? As many as seven times?” he’s thinking, “This is going to sound extra holy. This will get me the Nobel Peace Prize. Nobody would ever be so gratuitously noble as to suggest seven times.” So when Jesus replies, “No, not seven times…” Peter’s thinking, “Ah, the Lord is going to say to me, ‘No, not seven times Peter. What a saintly man you are choosing the Hebrew number of complete perfection. No Peter, in the real world, I reckon three or four should be about right.” That’s what Peter thinks Jesus is going to say.
So what a shock when Jesus says, “I’m telling you Peter, not seven times, but seventy seven times (or seventy times seven).” In other words, “No counting, Peter; just go on forgiving anyone who wrongs you, and who is truly sorry and repentant, however many times it happens.”
And I love to picture Peter’s stunned face; his mouth open, his lips moving slightly trying to find words that don’t come, his blinking eyes searching for some kind of sign on Jesus’ face this is all a joke… But no Jesus just stands there and looks him in the eye. Peter clearly doesn’t have all the lights on upstairs. “So Jesus says, “Look, it’s like a king who had to settle his accounts with his subjects...”
Well, you know the story. A man owes a lot of money. How much? Ten thousand talents. As the footnote in your Bible says, just one talent was worth about 20 years’ wages for a casual labourer… Twenty years’ pay! That’s one talent. This man owes 10,000. If the average wage in Britain is about £20,000 a year, which is what I’m told it is, then the equivalent sum to the one Jesus gave in this story, for us, would be about £200 million. In Jesus’ day, according to Michael Green, this sum was equivalent to ten thousand times the annual revenue of Galilee, Judea, Samaria and Idumea put together. Just paying the interest would ruin anyone but the super rich.
We think it’s bad being in debt today – and it is. But in that society, debt was devastating. Any lender who was not getting his money back could seize the borrower and sell him into slavery or force him and his family to work night nad day until the debt was paid off. Or he could lock him up in jail and sell off his land or even force relatives to pay off the sums owed. That explains v25; “Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt.”
So the man goes to the king, with his heart in his mouth. You know what it’s like when you know it’s going to be “no,” but nothing ventured, nothing gained eh?
(I once made an offer for a Renault Espace that was being advertised for 15,000€. I only had 6,000€. So I made the offer hoping the seller would be totally stupid or desperate. “Look,” I said. “I really like the car. I’m really interested. Have you had much interest yet? No? Good. I’d like to make you an offer. I can’t quite match the asking price of 15 grand, but I’m happy to offer, well, 6 thousand.” Now, I thought the seller would refuse point blank… And actually he did).
But this guy, like me with that car, what has he got to lose? The money lender can only say “no” can’t he? “Look,” he says, “just give me a bit more time and I’ll… I don’t know, I’ll get some cash together, I could borrow a few grand from my parents, maybe sell some old stuff on eBay. I promise you, I will do everything I can to pay it all back.”
And, incredibly, the king lets him off. Moments later the shoe is on the other foot. He bumps into a colleague who owes him three months’ wages; £5,000. I’ve done the maths. The debt is one six-hundred-thousandth of the first debt.
“Give me a bit of time!”
“No, I want it now.”
“Please, just be patient, if you can just wait a couple of weeks…”
“I can’t wait. You’re going down until I get my money back.”
“Forgive us our sins, as we have forgiven also those who have sinned against us.”
The king finds out and when he does he changes his mind about the first servant. He throws him into prison and says, “You’re not getting out until you’ve paid yours.”
Then this devastating conclusion in v35; “This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive a brother or sister from your heart.” That’s tough isn’t it? That’s uncompromising, teaching.
The word “forgive” in Greek, the language the New Testament was written in, literally means to let go, to release, to send away. Imagine you’re holding on to a rope attached to a boat. To describe the action of pushing the boat away and letting go of the rope you’d use the same word as the word “forgive.” You’ve got to just let go, you’ve got to release all that pent up frustration and resentment. Let it go!
I was praying with a woman once for physical healing, I can’t remember what sickness she was suffering from. As I was praying I felt the Holy Spirit urge me to ask her if she had had a difficult relationship with her sister. Straight away she stiffened up and folded her arms. All her childhood, her parents had said, “Why can’t you be more like your sister?” All those comparisons, all that humiliation, the pain of not being accepted for who she was…
She talked a bit and then I asked her if she was prepared to forgive. I told her that real freedom can only come when we leave behind our hurts and resentments that are so toxic to the soul. She said to me, “No, I can’t. It’s too much to ask. Can you pray anyway?” I said, “I’m sorry, I can’t. This is the only way through for you.”
You’ve got to let it go. Jesus let go of your sin against him. “Father, forgive them, they don’t know what they are doing.” You’ve got to leave the past in the past and refuse to hold it in the present. Jesus nailed your past to the cross – and it’s still there and your sins he remembers no more.
Colossians 3.13 says, “Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” Someone once came to me and complained about someone else in the church. “I felt really insulted by her. She really upset me. She was bang out of order. You’re the minister, sort her out.”
I said, “Debbie, did she spit in your face?” “I should hope not!”
“Did she pull a crown of thorns down on your head?”
“Did she pull your shirt off your back and give you 40 lashes?”
“Did she make you carry a cross up a hill before a baying crowd?”
“Did she crucify you between two criminals?”
“Did she put a sarcastic sign over your head and leave you to die?”
They did it to Jesus. “Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”
Sermon preached at All Saints' Preston on Tees, 25th October 2009
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