31.01 | Beyond Pink Lycra
Matthew 18:21-35
“Then Peter came up and said to him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times.”
Matthew 18:21-22
When I was twenty-one, I ran my first half marathon. I trained pretty hard, running laps of my local park in a pair of old Converse sneakers. So when it came to race day, I was fairly confident I could run it in a good time.
The big day came, and the crowds of runners flocked to the starting pen to get ready. A lot of stretching, shoelace tightening, and adjusting of those running belts that hold little shots of sugary gel. The atmosphere was electric, and when the countdown ended and the horn sounded, I was pumped for the race. I headed out of the starting arena, dodging the crowds and trying to find my rhythm.
It was about then that she appeared. Five foot tall, about 15 years my senior, and sporting a bold pink lycra, she came silently from behind and overtook me in a majestically steady rhythm.
I don’t know why (no reason I can think of is flattering), but this piqued a competitive bone in me. She overtook me. How dare she! I’m taller, younger, and should be able to take this small runner.
So I upped my pace, and caught her, pushing hard to stay in rhythm and build a comfortable distance between us.
A mile or so later, she overlook me again.
Game on.
The race went on like this, a grim battle of wills of which she had no idea that she was a part of. But every time I overtook, she came right back, like a relentless lycra-clad hunter. And I was the prey.
The final mile was the hardest. She didn’t even look tired, clearly in her zone. I was pale, and beyond sweating in some kind of dehydrated state of clammy exhaustion. But as we entered the stadium, I found some last push of energy. A final explosion of speed, and I came bounding past pink Lycra lady to one of the great sporting achievements of my life.
I checked my watch. I’d finished the race fifteen minutes faster than the time I’d trained for.
Pink lycra lady was my pacesetter that day. She set the bar, and my race time that day was always going to be dictated by hers.
Peter’s question today is a bit like this. What is the pace that I have to run at? What is the minimum standard for success? If I’m to stay ahead of the holiness line, how quick do I need to be?
Or, more specifically: Ok Jesus, you want me to forgive my brother: how many times is reasonable?
Jesus responds with a story.
A man owed a king ten thousand talents. A talent was about twenty years wages for a labourer. Ten thousand was the highest numeral you could write down in ancient Greek.
Jesus is essentially saying that the man owed a bazillion dollars. A ridiculous amount.
The king forgives him the debt. Extraordinary grace.
The man goes out, and bumps into a guy who owes him one hundred denarii. A denarius was a day’s wages for a labourer. Not an insignificant amount, but compared to the bazillion he’s just been forgiven, it’s nothing.
The man doesn’t forgive the debt, and the king, when he hears, is outraged. He throws the man in prison.
What is Jesus saying?
He wants Peter to change the paradigm.
Peter’s asking the minimum pace he needs to run at to win. The minimum standard required. A safe number. A reasonable number. How many times do I have to forgive someone before I can switch back to the good old paradigm of revenge.
Jesus’ story points to what the Father is looking for.
He’s not looking for people who will complete a certain number of righteous actions. He’s looking to make us righteous people.
He’s not looking to make us people who sometimes forgive, up to a point. He’s looking to make us gracious to our very core.
He’s not looking for stingily measured acts of grace from us; He’s looking to make our basic instinct and habit in all situations to be grace.
Grace like His.
Jesus invites Peter to step out of legalistic counting and frugal forgiveness, and to become a radically different person from the inside out.
Reflect:
Take a look at your relationships today. What paradigm are you in? Minimum standard? Or inhabiting the grace of the Father?
Pray:
Father,
Help me to see;
Help me to see what you have given me,
In its extraordinary measure.
Soften my hard heart,
To stop counting and criticising,
To stop living to a just-about minimum standard.
Instead,
Restore me to true wholeness;
Give me a heart of radical compassion;
Help me to live, not to the metrics of ‘just enough’,
But to the unlimited beauty of your heart,
That gives without measure,
And becomes wholly love.
In Jesus’ Name,
Amen.
Old Testament:
For those also reading the Old Testament this year, your additional readings are here:
Exodus 13:17 | Psalm 18:1-19