I Am The Unmerciful Servant

One day, when I was probably about six years old, I looked through my sister's belongings, and found a booklet she had received in Sunday school. Written in comic book form, it introduced me to the Matthew eighteen parable of the unmerciful servant. If you know what I am talking about, you probably hate it too, and if you do not, here is a quick summary: this is the terrible story of a fellow who is forgiven an astronomical debt to the king, then turns right around and chokes some other guy who owes him a pittance. As punishment, the unmerciful servant was tortured until he could pay back all he had originally owed the king.

The whole thing with the king's mercy seemed really nice at first, but once I finished reading the booklet, I wished that I had never picked it up. Even though it was a small comfort to think that it was a story and not a real-life event, it depressed me to see how this was an illustration for something that goes on in every Christian's life, and the more I recognized my own sin, the worse I felt.

In the following years, I have run into that parable over and over again in sermons and youth group, and every time I see it coming, I dread hearing it. Although I may have an unusually extreme reaction to it, nobody likes this story, and the reason is clear: the servant's response is so stupid. If a debt you could not pay was suddenly canceled, would you not go out rejoicing? Upon running into someone who owed you money, you would cancel their debt and ask them to share in your happiness, because that is the only sensible reaction.

The point is, of course, that this is what happens to us when we place faith in Christ. God grants us forgiveness on a cosmic scale, but in addition to canceling our debt, He gives us blessings that we do not deserve, and adopts us as children. If we do not find this utterly astounding, then we do not understand God's infinite glory or our despicable sin. We must recognize that we are not just good people who need to get straightened up, but are foul and dirty in our sins. Even in our filthiness and enmity, God loved us, and He chose to rescue us. He did not have to, for we are not entitled to such mercy, but in His great kindness, He expressed an impossibly gracious love towards us.

Because we are forgiven and made clean, we are called to forgive those who sin against us. When our rebellion against a holy God has been blotted out from our record, how can we not turn in forgiveness towards others? Even a grudge that appears justified is absurd when placed in this light. Humans offend each other continually, and often very seriously, but when you look up to heaven and consider how far God went to redeem you, how can you stay enraged at what someone else has done? Their standing before you is utterly insignificant, when compared to your position before God while you were still in your sin. This other person has hurt you, but you rebelled against God's created order and refused His righteous lordship over your life.

In my own life, I do not necessarily want someone to experience pain because of how they have hurt me, but I do want them to be keenly aware of the hurt they caused, and feel like I cannot let go of my grudge until they know that they were in the wrong. When I consider the gospel, I see that this attitude is ridiculous. The Creator of the universe extended forgiveness to me when I was in rebellion, reaching out in relationship regardless of my inability to fully grasp the implications of my sin.

I have been the unmerciful servant, but I do not have to be that way. When I encountered the parable before, I always felt hopelessly guilty over how clearly I fit into that role, and feared that I could never be different. I lost the joy of the merciful king as I despaired in my own awfulness, missing the beginning of the story in my disgust over what followed. Until recent years, I never grasped the fact that it is because my debt was paid that I am able to show grace. God's mercy does not just hold me to a higher standard, but gives me the ability to express love that would never otherwise be in my heart.