Sam Bush, “God’s Favorite Car”
Many of you know by now that Maddy and I are expecting our third child later this fall. This week, in preparation for this big change, we surrendered our pride in exchange for a minivan. Now that any sense of style or dignity has been laid to rest, we can finally stop caring about what people think of us, or, as one comedian says, “This is when we let go of our egos and begin our spiritual journey.” Of course, our spiritual journey will be kept in check due to one thing: car payments. We may “own” a minivan, but we will spend the next handful of years paying back the debt we have accrued with this purchase.
Can you relate at all? Debt is an inescapable part of life. Even if you’ve paid off your student loans, medical bills and this month’s utilities, you probably owe somebody something – an apology, a thank you card, a phone call. What do you say after a friend helps you? “I owe you one!” In a sense, to be alive is to be in debt.
Thankfully, Jesus is not ignorant to this reality. This morning, he tells a story that’s all about debt. A king wishes to settle all accounts with his slaves. One particular slave owes him ten thousand talents which is roughly $10 million. Jesus says the king was going to sell this man into slavery along with his wife and children (which was a common punishment at the time), but the servant begs for patience and says he’ll pay back everything. Out of pity, the king cuts his losses, absorbs this man’s debt and releases him.
The slave, in his newfound freedom, comes across a fellow slave who owes him a hundred denarii which is about $12,000 in today’s terms (it’s not nothing, but let’s keep things in perspective). He seizes his fellow servant by the throat and, despite the man’s plea for mercy, he throws him in prison. Now, word gets back to the king
who summons the first slave and says, “I forgave you all that debt. Should you not
have had mercy on your fellow slave?” He then hands him over to be tortured. It’s not a happy ending.
What are we to make of this story? First, God recognizes that to be human is to be under an overwhelming sense of debt. The Bible constantly uses language about debt because it’s often the perfect illustration for how sin operates in our lives. It is an unseen power that overcomes our own agency, an outside force that slowly and quietly constricts our freedom and can drive us to despair. For people living under significant debt, you are what you owe.
Thankfully, Jesus does not assume the position of the loan shark, but that of the redeemer. It turns out, he is a terrible bookkeeper. In Luke’s Gospel he says, “Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back.” He flatout refuses to keep tallies on who owes or deserves anything. To live in a spiritual kind of debtor’s prison and then hear you don’t actually owe God anything is the sound of a jail cell door clattering opening. The king has absorbed your debt. You’re free to go.
The tricky thing is that he asks us to do the same with each other. Earlier in Matthew’s gospel, when Jesus instructs us how to pray the Lord’s Prayer, the phrase “Forgive us our trespasses” is interchangeable with “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.” In today’s passage, when Peter asks Jesus how many times he should forgive someone, suggesting, “as many as seven times” Peter thinks he is being generous. Within Judaism, three times was sufficient to show someone mercy. What does Jesus say? He says, “You know, I would just stop counting altogether.” Where the world says, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” Jesus says, “Get fooled seventy-seven times! Play the fool! Stop counting.”
How on earth are we to follow these instructions to forgive and forget, to let bygones be bygones, to bury the hatchet? Easier said than done, isn’t it? As American cartoonist Kin Hubbard once said, “Nobody ever forgets where they buried the hatchet.” Even moreso, what about justice? Are we going to let people get away with murder? Shouldn’t they be punished; held accountable?
To that question, Jesus first reminds us that we are not the ones in power. The writer David Foster Wallace once said that we are “kings and queens of our skull-sized kingdoms,” but Jesus reminds us who the true king is and that we are but lowly servants. If you are keeping someone under your thumb until they pay back what you think they owe you, you are mistaking yourself for the king and forgetting the much greater debt that has been forgiven you.
Even still, that takeaway is not enough. This story shows us that being the recipient of mercy does not automatically make you merciful. We are not the obedient servants we were intended to be. To forgive is divine as the saying goes, but it is not in our nature. When a 19th century prime minister of Spain was on his deathbed, he was asked to forgive his enemies. He replied, “I don’t need to forgive my enemies, I have had them all shot.” You see, forgiveness is taking the bullet. It’s paying the cost that someone else owes. Rather than take the bullet, we will sooner hold a grudge, keep accounts and demand repayment.
This is why the king subjected himself to be a lowly slave, handing himself over to be tortured in place of the wicked servant until the entire debt was paid off. You see, on the Cross, you and I got away with murder because Jesus chose not to get away. You and I were let off the hook only because God put himself on the hook in our place. On the Cross, he absorbed our debt by absorbing our sin.
You see, God is not interested in repayment, but in redemption. In his final moments he proclaims a word that was often used in contracts, maybe one that Jesus was familiar with as a carpenter. When the last payment of debt had been made, the lender would write on the contract tetelestai or “It is finished.” In other words, “The debt has been paid in full.” The contract has been fulfilled and has been signed in blood. If we are given eyes to see how precious that gift is, all other debts owed to us pale in comparison.
Rod Rosenbladt is a theologian who once told the story of wrecking his car when he was sixteen. He was out with his friends who had all been drinking and he was drunk driving. After the accident, Rod called his dad and confessed that he was drunk. Later that night, he walks into his father’s study and falls apart out of shame and guilt. He knew what he had done; that he was responsible. After Rod had cried all there was to cry, his father asked him a question: “How about tomorrow we go and get you a new car?”
Now, you might scoff at that gesture; you might think it’s irresponsible. But Rod says at that moment he became a Christian. That’s when forgiveness was not just an idea, but a personal experience. Rod has since devoted his life to the gospel, teaching students for over 30 years about the wonders of God’s. This is the kind of forgiveness God has extended to you through Jesus Christ. In the car wreck of your life, he has given you a brand new car. It happens to be a minivan, but it’s paid in full. Amen.
