Why Forgiveness is Hard: Breaking Down Matthew 18 Like a Netflix Series

I was asked to lead our D-Group tonight. I reviewed the assignment earlier this week, and my first thought was, “This again?”

Forgiveness is an important topic, don’t get me wrong. But it can be tiring to always hear that we need to forgive because we have been forgiven. As much as I want to simply copy/paste the lessons from Sunday school, I felt the responsibility to give more.

I began to dig deeper into my topic and, at the same time, reflected on my own life. What I found out was that despite hearing countless lessons about forgiveness, I still find it difficult to do.

And this is how I arrived at this question: Why is it so hard to forgive?

*

What is forgiveness?

Before I tackled the why, I first considered the what. I need to recognize what I am giving up when I forgive.

Jesus gave a parable in Matthew 18 that illustrates what forgiveness is.

He said that there was a king who had a servant who owed him an immense debt: 10,000 talents. It amounts to billions of dollars today.

One talent was equivalent to twenty years of a worker’s wages, making it impossible to repay in a lifetime.

The king planned to sell the servant and his family as slaves due to their debt. But the servant begged for more time to repay it.

Moved by pity, the king completely forgave the debt.

After leaving the king, the servant met another servant who owed him a smaller amount—about a few thousand dollars.

The second servant also pleaded for time to settle his debt. But the first servant denied him and threw him in jail.

The king was furious when he learned what happened. The servant who had received such great mercy refused to do the same to his peers.

The king sentenced the unforgiving servant to a life behind bars for his insurmountable debt.

Based on the parable, this is what forgiveness is: the act of canceling a debt.

The story taught me that forgiving is about releasing someone from their obligations. I should let the person go, regardless of whether they apologized, accepted responsibility, repaid me, or showed any remorse.

I find this picture comforting if I were the one who owed someone a debt. But it’s a different story if I am on the side of setting an offender free.

Now that I have gotten a clearer view of what forgiveness is, let’s go back to the main topic. Let’s talk about the obstacles that make canceling a person’s debt hard.

*

The story of the ‘Unforgiving Servant’ is at the end of Matthew 18. If that chapter were a Netflix series, I see it as the season-ending finale.

“Finale” refers to the last part of a series or performance, often intended to give an exciting conclusion. But the excitement for a TV show’s ending often relies on the build-up.

The build-up is the gradual increase in tension, pressure, or drama in earlier episodes, contributing to the climax. This narrative technique makes the season finale memorable and provides a satisfying close to the story.

I observed that this is the technique Jesus used in Matthew 18. Before He gave the finale about forgiveness, He first used the earlier verses to build it up. And that’s where I got some clues on why forgiveness is so hard to do.

Episode 1: The Pride

At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. — Matthew 18:1-4

Matthew 18 begins with a question from the disciples to Jesus: “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” This question lays the groundwork for the chapter by exposing the hearts of the disciples. It seems like they are more interested in their positions than in serving the Lord.

I see myself asking the same thing if I were one of the twelve.

I played for several basketball teams growing up. While I am obsessed with winning, I find myself more focused on being the best player on the team. I never made it obvious, but I’d rather lose the game as the main player than win as the sidekick.

Jesus addressed this attitude by putting a child in the middle of the group. He tells them that unless they turn and become like children, they won’t even enter the kingdom of heaven. His point is not that Christians should be gullible or immature. The point is that if you want to be the greatest, you have to be humble like a child.

Now, what does this have to do with forgiveness?

As you already know, the opposite of humility is Pride. In the book “Mere Christianity,” C.S. Lewis called Pride the most evil because through it, “the devil became the devil.” We can see in Isaiah 14 how Lucifer lusted after the position of the Most High.

Lewis also said that we thought “people are proud of being rich, or clever, or good-looking, but they are not. They are proud of being richer, cleverer, or better-looking than others.”

The pride inside me makes it difficult to forgive because it is competitive by nature. It can create feelings of superiority if someone owes me, or a promise for revenge if I feel wronged.

This often happens to me on the road. When a car cuts me off, I will go out of the lane and cut that car off as well.

Pride leads to holding onto anger, not wanting the other person to “win.” It can make us view forgiving someone as a sign of weakness or giving up our position.

Episode 2: The Unwillingness

And if your hand or your foot causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life crippled or lame than with two hands or two feet to be thrown into the eternal fire. And if your eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into the hell of fire. — Matthew 18:8-9

In episode two, we see that as if Jesus is teaching about self-harm as a way to stop sin. He’s not. Because even doing so would not remove the source of sin, which is the heart. This is a deliberate exaggeration, as He urges His disciples to go to extremes to avoid sin.

The first question that popped up after reading this passage was: Is withholding forgiveness a sin?

I did a quick study. I found Matthew 6:15, Mark 11:25, Colossians 3:13, and Ephesians 4:31-32. They all tell me that, without a doubt, unforgiving is a sin.

The next question I asked myself was: Is there someone I haven’t forgiven yet?

I set a timer to 15 minutes. I explored the depths of my heart to see if there were names that would come up. The timer rang, and there was no one.

I closed the lid of my laptop to take a break when the name “Kelvin” came up. I felt my face flushing, jaw and fists clenching. A heavy sigh pushed past my lips, “Oh, yeah. That guy.”

*

Kelvin and I were batchmates in grade six. Together with our group, we shared meals, played basketball, joked around, hunted for girls—the usual stuff little men do. But he disappeared during high school.

We met again four years later. It was in an interschool basketball league, and we were on opposing teams. I approached him before the game, showing my hands, expecting a high five. He looked at me with a straight face and said the F-word version of “get lost.”

“What’s the problem with this guy?” I asked myself. He acted as if we didn’t know each other. Even worse, he acted like I had done something wrong. He keeps mouthing the f-word every time I look at him. I wasn’t sure if he was playing with my mind so I would lose focus on the game. He was acting really weird. We jumped the ball, and the game was underway.

By the second quarter, there was a moment when Kelvin’s teammate passed him the ball for a fast break. I ran toward him, and that put us in a situation to go one-on-one. And this is where it happened. He stopped. Held the ball. Instead of shooting, he fired the ball to my face while cursing me with f-bombs.

After I regained my balance, I went straight and tackled him on the concrete floor. I pinned him down and intended to give him a blow to the jaw. But our teammates stepped in and broke us apart.

We were both thrown out and never saw each other again. I can’t recall if our team won the game. But I’ll never forget the dents in my wall and the scars on my fists. They served as a reminder of the rage that consumed me that day.

*

Unforgiving is a sin. But the mere thought of typing Kelvin’s name on social media already made me feel nauseous. Besides, wouldn’t it be weird to bring up childhood fights in our forties?

Forgiveness is difficult because it demands a drastic approach. A level of commitment most people like me are unwilling to make. Ideally, I should reach out, invite him to coffee, and talk about that day. It’s going to be bizarre, but I guess it’s one way of going to extremes.

Episode 3: The Ignorance

See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven. What do you think? If a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray? And if he finds it, truly, I say to you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray. So it is not the will of my Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish. — Matthew 18:10-14

In this episode, Jesus teaches us not to judge others harshly when they sin. He reminds us that God loves everyone. His love is like a shepherd who leaves the flock to bring back a lost sheep.

I know I have to love all people as God does. We are his children and that makes us brothers and sisters. But after enduring so many offenses, I found myself craving justice more than grace. Deep down, I hope the wolves devour all those who wronged me and never return.

But later I came to realize that this is a shortsighted way of thinking.

There is a story in Mark 2 when Jesus spent his time eating with “sinners.” I imagine walking into McDonald’s seeing Jesus, Kelvin, and the driver who cut me off sharing a Happy Meal. I picture my jaw dropping and asking Jesus: “Why are you sharing meals with these ‘sinners?!'”

And that’s exactly what the “righteous” people in the story asked.

Jesus’ response was, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.”

Forgiveness is hard because I am ignorant of the real effects of sin. When I am offended, I get angry at the person, not at the “sickness” corrupting the person from the inside.

As Lewis put it:

“When a man is getting better, he understands more and more clearly the evil that is still left in him. When a man is getting worse, he understands his own badness less and less. A moderately bad man knows he is not very good: a thoroughly bad man thinks he is all right.”

When a normal guy slaps me in the face for no reason, I will get angry and slap him back. But when one who suffers from a mental illness does the same, I will be more forgiving. Slapping back the person who doesn’t really know what he is doing will make me the one in the wrong.

All people are sick. We are plagued by sin, which causes us to sin more. This is why I must extend extra grace to every person I meet. Even the Apostle Paul faced this difficulty. In Romans 7, he wrote:

“For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me.”

Episode 4: The Limited Capacity

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

We’re now in the last episode before the finale. Here’s what I’ve learned up to this point: I should set aside my pride and be willing to forgive. Because most people don’t really know what they are doing.

Okay, Lord. Noted. But what if the people I forgave repeat their offenses? Should I forgive them again?

I am glad Peter had the same question in mind. He said, “Lord, how often will I forgive my brother who has sinned against me? “Seven times?”

That’s too much; twice or thrice is more than enough. I told Peter in my mind while reading verses 21 to 22.

But Jesus replied, “It’s not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” Some translations even say “seventy times seven.” His point wasn’t about a specific number; instead He implies that we must be ready to offer unlimited forgiveness.

As a human, there are limits to what I can do. It’s unimaginable to keep canceling the debt of someone who borrows with no intention to repay. I can let it slide a few times to keep the peace. But there comes a point when enough is enough.

One money lesson I learned the hard way is to never lend to family or friends. It’s a recipe for future conflict.

But if there’s a genuine need, I give them something I can afford to lose. (Please don’t tell them). That way, I don’t feel resentful if they can’t pay me back.

Still, my unspoken rule is that if they do pay me back, I’m more willing to help again. If they didn’t, then that’s the last they’ll get from me. I don’t have the capacity to bail them out forever, even if I wanted to.

The Finale

We already know what happened here. This is Jesus’ mic drop on the topic of forgiveness. I checked the next chapter to see if He had something more to say, but He said nothing. Matthew 19:1 stated that after He finished talking, He went away.

He was like,

“Forgiveness is hard to do,
but do it anyway,
’cause you’ve been forgiven too.”

Dropped the mic and exited the stage.

*

Have you ever felt like you’re left hanging, with more questions than answers? I leaned back in my chair, and told myself, “I can’t end my lesson here.” Forgiveness is hard. Now what? Should I just forgive over and over again? I need to know more.

So with eyes closed, I imagined myself running after Jesus as He walked away. The disciples tried to stop me, but I managed to weave through them. When I finally caught up, huffing and puffing, I asked, “Lord, is that it? Won’t you give us some pointers to make forgiveness easier?”

He stopped, turned to me, and said, “Son, will you follow me, even if it’s hard?”

Takeaways

I shared this lesson with my D-group last night, and it went better than I hoped for. Thanks to an imaginary meeting with Jesus, I gained two powerful insights that helped me wrap up this assignment nicely.

1. Christians are Forgivers.

I now understand that Jesus’ story of the Unforgiving Servant wasn’t intended to guilt trip me into action. He is reminding me of my new identity and job description as His follower.

C.S. Lewis said:

“To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.”

Forgiveness isn’t based on what I feel or think. I forgive people because I am a follower of Christ.

I am a Forgiver.

2. It doesn’t need to be easy before I follow.

I like how Johnny Cash’s words hit me like a cold splash of water. He said: “Being a Christian isn’t for sissies. It takes a real man to live for God—a lot more man than to live for the devil, you know? If you really want to live right these days, you gotta be tough.”

I now feel embarrassed for asking Jesus to make things easier. I should have asked for the strength to handle them instead. Christians should be bold like lions, and here I am acting like a frightened cat.

I see why the finale of Matthew 18 felt off to me at first. I expected Jesus to give a solution, but instead, He posed a challenge: Will I forgive even when it’s difficult?

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Magic Cards, Missing Money, and a Lifelong Punishment

Note: This reflection was originally published on June 21, 2020, and has been edited and republished.

“Class dismissed.” I hoisted my backpack on my shoulders and rushed out of the classroom. Oh, how I’ve waited to hear those words since this morning!

I skip-walked and greeted everyone in the lobby as I exited the school campus while humming Breakfast At Tiffany’s.

Have you heard of Magic: The Gathering?! Everyone’s crazy about it these days. You collect cards, build decks, and go battle with friends. It’s really fun!

The only catch is that it costs a lot of money.

What’s good is I don’t have to worry about that today. In fact, I’m on my way to the card shop to buy the latest edition! Woohoo!

I entered the store with my head held high. While all the mortal kids here are buying their cards in packs, I’m here to buy mine in a box.

I flipped my wallet and slid out three one thousand peso bills. “Miss, please give me a box of Mirage.” I said, then handed the money to the storekeeper. Suddenly, there was silence. As the vendor hands me a denim-blue package, I notice all the other kids watching with their mouths wide open.

Here it comes!

I received my Magic booster box with sweaty palms and an eager nose. I enjoy the smell of new cards. It’s addictive. I kissed my new treasure and stuffed it in my bag, then commuted home.

The clock says four forty-five.

I quickly washed my hands and changed clothes as I got home. There’s a lot of unpacking to do. A box have five hundred forty cards divided into thirty-six packs.

I hurried because I have to finish before my brother and cousins came home. I want to surprise them with my new deck.

Halfway through my unboxing, someone knocked on the door.

“Hi Jed, what are you doing?”

It’s my dad. “Hi, Paps! You’re home early?!”

He glanced down at the messy green carpet. Piles of cards and wrinkled foils are scattered all over.

“Well, I need to get some rest. Something happened at the office.”

“Something happened?” I inquired.

“I was supposed to pay someone, but my cash is gone. I wonder where it went.”

He paused for a while—more like a hesitation—then he eventually asked, “Have you seen it?”

“N-No, of course not,” I responded.

“Well, if you ever see it, let me know.”

“Sure, Paps.”

Then he gently closed the door.

I took another pack, cut it open, and slid out the cards. My nose suddenly felt stuffy, and my chest was heavy. Tears brimmed in my eyes.

I didn’t bother to ask the amount of the missing money because I knew exactly how much it was.

What should I do?

I thought of various ways to confess my deed. A light bulb went on when I saw a paper and an orange crayon lying around the room.

Papa,

It’s me. I took your money.

I am so sorry. =(

Jed

I folded the letter and put it inside an envelope.

I went downstairs to find him in his usual spot: the aquarium.

With my legs shaking, I got out of the room and took my first step down. Then second. But I hesitated to take the third.

Should I give this to Dad? I asked myself. It’s still not too late to throw this paper away.

I could stay silent and let this case be a mystery forever. But I’m sure Dad already knows who took them. How could a fourth grader afford those cards?

No matter which path I choose, either way will result in a death sentence.

My dad is one of the most gentle and kind people I know. But you don’t want to see him angry.

Maybe I could get a lower penalty if I were to admit my crime.

I pushed and took another step down. Time passed slowly from that point until I reached the first floor. Fear has put me in a trance and showcased every worst possible punishment I could get.

Will it be the hanger, the belt, or the stick? Step.
Will I ever play basketball with friends again? Step.
Will he burn and throw away all my cards? Step.
Will I go to jail? Step.

I wiped my eyes dry and took a deep breath before I got on the last step. As expected, Dad is in the fish area. I picked up my pace and acted normal as I approached him.

“Hey, Paps, busy?”

“Mm?” He responded.

Half of his right arm is immersed in the fish tank. He uses a clear tube to siphon dirty water from the aquarium into an emerald bucket.

“Uhm… Paps? I’m s-sorry to bother you. I saw this mail in the mailbox. And uh…It’s for you. It loo-looks urgent, so please read it right away.”

I placed the letter on his marbled work table and zoomed my way upstairs to hide.

My heart pounded as I ran up. 

I took the thickest blanket in my parent’s bedroom and hid under it.

There were a few minutes of silence before I felt footsteps coming this way. I started to cry. I covered my mouth to keep myself quiet, but I’m not sure if it’s helping at all.

Our bedroom door opens and then closes. Another door opens, then closes again. “JEEEED!” Dad called out.

I trembled and held tightly onto the furry blanket.

What happened next is a blur. The next thing I knew, Dad swiftly seized my cover and carried me back to the green-carpeted room.

“I’m sorry Paps, I’m so sorry!!” This is the time when my emotion is at its peak. Tears and milky snot flooded my face as I wailed.

Dad sat me on his lap in front of the scattered cards. I can feel the power of his hands grasping me to stay in place.

“Why, why did you do that?!” he asked. I wiped my eyes with my left forearm and pondered on what to say.

Yet again, the only words that came out were “I’m sorry.”

I honestly didn’t know how to answer. I wasn’t sure what got into me. It was an impulsive act when I saw his wallet lying on top of the cabinet.

It’s time for my punishment.

Dad slowly raised his hand and pointed at the cards. I winced and bid farewell to my collection before he can even say a word. I already see what’s coming.

“Jed, listen to me,” Dad said in a commanding tone.

“All those toys, cards, or whatever you call it…”

“…I want you to consider them as my gift to you.”

His words interrupted me from sobbing. I looked at him. Puzzled.

His tone suddenly changed.

“Your birthday is coming up, right?”

I didn’t know how to respond. The feeling is foreign.

Dad spoke a language I didn’t understand, but it touched me deeply. I buried my tear-streaked face in his torn white shirt and a new wave of tears flooded my eyes.

“But next time…” He uttered in a sweet tone.

“…tell papa if you want anything, okay?”

*

We never talked about that day ever again.

Most people think I dodged a huge bullet.

I thought so too. I got away with stealing? That sounds too good to be true.

Years later, I realized that I indeed got my punishment that day — and it’s more than I ever imagined. I never understood its implication until I graduated college.

It’s my ninth month at my first job when my phone was stolen. Well, I actually left it in the men’s room after brushing my teeth and someone took it. I borrowed my colleague’s phone and typed a message on the numeric keypad. I asked the person to return it to our office, and the reply I got was: “It’s my phone now.”

I was furious. Six months worth of work, gone. The plan was to launch an internal investigation. This isn’t just about my phone. It’s about justice. I have every right to reclaim what’s mine, and bring the thief to account, no matter who he is.

But then I was flashed back to that day. I heard the echo of my father’s voice of forgiveness. I realized I was a thief who was angry at another thief. I called off the investigation at the last minute and replied to the message, “Okay, enjoy your new phone. It’s my gift to you.”

It’s always heck a lot easier to make people pay. To deny forgiveness. To demand what’s fair. But this is the new standard of living Dad modeled to me. Turns out there’s a term for it – it’s called Grace. It’s to show kindness to all people whether they deserved it or not.

Dad’s inexplicable act of grace gave me the punishment of a lifetime: To do the same to others.

*

It’s been more than two decades since I last played Magic.

I can’t even remember how to play the game anymore. Yet I still have a vivid memory of what happened. 

Many times I wonder why Dad didn’t go the other way. He should’ve just got rid of my cards, or even beat me with a rod. I’d rather have a one-time sanction than a lifelong penance. 

It’s not until I became a dad myself when I understood things a little better. 

Punishment is intended to teach good behavior, not to inflict pain. It’s not an outlet for anger but an opportunity to express love. 

My dad is not the expressive type. But I know that day, he said, “I love you, son.”

I love you too, Paps.

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The Practice Is The Reward

I can’t remember where I first encountered this phrase. Was it from a dream, or some books I’ve read? One thing is for sure: I didn’t see the importance of that five-word sentence until I experienced its wisdom firsthand.

The phrase I’m talking about is: “The practice is the reward.”

I started this blog in 2019 to record my learnings and adventures as a new dad. But more than the content, I love the process of writing. I like the practice of forging my bodiless thoughts and ideas on paper to make them come to life. I like the challenge of applying logic, strategy, and some creativity to make information or stories easier to absorb.

Writing helps me declutter my mind, make life lessons easier to remember, and, in some weird way, regulate my emotions. I love writing so much that I dare say it is my new sport. (And everyone—including my wife—knows that basketball is my first love.)

But as I got deeper into “blogging,” I found out that you can actually monetize your content. That is, to make money from it. I was captivated by the idea. “Making money while doing what I love?” So I started to explore further, and a new world opened.

Suddenly, I was bombarded by new terms such as Search Engine Optimization (SEO), Keyword Research, and Affiliate Marketing. The more I learned, the more things I had to learn. But the bottom line is, if I want to make money on my blog, I need traffic. I need people to visit my website so I can show them some ads, sell a course, or refer them to products to get commissions. I need to build a brand and grow my tribe so I can incur a steady income stream.

That’s when I started to drift away from the core.

The blog was no longer focused on writing. It is now meant to get traffic and make money. I am so sorry that it happened. Because my joy wasn’t tied to the practice anymore, but to the rewards I could get from it.

Imagine a musician who plays only for fame and fortune, rather than love and devotion to the craft. I wrote articles not because I wanted to write them, but because their keywords had the most potential for traffic. I wrote for the search engines and algorithm instead of for myself or those who matter to me.

The truth is, I already quit writing. I worked on this website for five years, and I didn’t get the results I wanted. But thanks to the boy I saw playing basketball by himself under the scorching sun. He kept shooting even though there was nobody to pay him to do it. He doesn’t care whether someone was watching or not. All he did was play. That’s love. That’s joy. I hope I am not yet that far away from it.

And so, this is my reset.

I removed the logos, the ads, and everything that might distract me from writing in this blog. If there’s someone else reading this now, welcome. But know that I am writing this for myself. I am trying to come back to the way things should be: when practice itself is the reward.

Follow the Journey

This journal is my way of making sense of the lessons from the journey. Get the next full entry delivered straight to your inbox.