Wednesday night studying through the Gospel of Luke, we recently arrived at chapter 11, where Jesus teaches his disciples to pray. Here, Luke gives us a version of the “Lord’s Prayer” that is slightly shorter than Matthew’s, and notably, without the explanatory follow-up about forgiving others. Whereas Matthew includes a propositional statement—“For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses” (Matt. 6:14-15)—Luke instead moves directly into a parable. Jesus does not tell us in explicit terms what forgiving others looks like; instead, he tells a story about a man who receives a guest at midnight but has nothing to set before the visitor.
At first glance, this parable seems to have little to do with forgiveness. A man, caught off guard by an unexpected visitor, finds himself unprepared, lacking the provisions necessary for proper hospitality. So he goes to his friend’s house in the dead of night and knocks persistently, asking for bread until the friend finally relents—not necessarily out of love, but because of the man’s sheer boldness. What does this have to do with forgiveness? Jesus is revealing something profound about our spiritual life, something that applies not only to prayer but also to the very act of forgiveness itself. Namely, that we do not always have within us what we need. Sometimes, when confronted with a call to forgive our enemies, we find ourselves spiritually bankrupt. We know we ought to forgive, but deep down, we simply lack the resources—the grace, the generosity, the strength—to actually do it.
And so, what are we to do? Exactly what the man in the parable does. He does not have the bread, so he goes to someone who does. Likewise, when we find ourselves unable to forgive, when we lack the interior resources to extend mercy, we must go to the One who is abundant in mercy. “Lord, I myself don’t have what it takes to forgive the one who has trespassed against me, but you do—and I’m counting on you to provide what I lack.” This is the dynamic Jesus describes when he teaches us to pray, “Forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone who is indebted to us.” Not that we can always summon forgiveness from within, but that we recognize our need and turn to the One who is rich in mercy. The Christian life is not a self-sufficient moral project. It is a participation in the divine life, a continual drawing from the inexhaustible treasury of God’s grace. So, as we reflected together on Wednesday night, forgiveness is not always something we generate from our own reserves. It is something we receive and then extend, just as bread is received and then shared. This, I believe, is why Jesus offers a parable rather than a mere proposition. He is teaching us not only what to do, but where to go when we find ourselves empty.
Maranatha,
Jordy
Next Week’s Sermo
