The discussion navigates the profound concept of forgiveness, particularly focusing on how it operates within the context of intimate relationships, such as marriage. As we explore the dynamics of forgiveness, we find ourselves diving into the depths of what covenant forgiveness truly entails. It’s not merely about forgetting past grievances but rather the commitment to never wield those grievances against one another again. This idea allows love and redemption to flourish in the future, steering clear of the pitfalls of accusation and blame. We draw on the poignant parable of the unforgiving servant to illustrate this point, where a servant, forgiven a monumental debt by his king, fails to extend the same grace to a fellow servant. This stark contrast serves as a reminder that maintaining a ledger of wrongs in relationships not only undermines forgiveness but also reveals a troubling forgetfulness of one’s own need for grace. We challenge ourselves to rethink the question of how often we should forgive and instead ask ourselves why we are counting at all. By shifting our perspective, we can begin to grasp the depth of compassion that should govern our interactions with loved ones, fostering an environment where love reigns over bitterness and resentment. In this episode, we delve into the heart of forgiveness through the lens of biblical teachings, particularly highlighting the story of Joseph as a model of grace and redemption. Joseph, despite facing unimaginable betrayals from those closest to him, chooses to interpret his life through the lens of God’s sovereignty rather than the pain inflicted by his brothers. This choice not only protects him from bitterness but also allows him to emerge as a figure of compassion and forgiveness. We reflect on how Joseph’s journey exemplifies the principle that true forgiveness transcends mere human logic. His ability to forgive stems from a profound understanding of God’s hand at work in his life, reminding us that every injustice can be reframed within the narrative of divine providence. Furthermore, we transition to the New Testament, where the parable of the Prodigal Son serves as a rich illustration of the contrasting attitudes toward forgiveness, showcasing how the characters embody different responses to grace and redemption. By examining these biblical narratives, we uncover a transformative approach to forgiveness, urging listeners to release their own ledgers and embrace the liberating power of grace.

Takeaways:

• Forgiveness in relationships isn't merely about forgetting; it's about not holding past mistakes against one another, creating a future governed by love.
• The parable of the unmerciful servant illustrates that true forgiveness transcends human calculations; it calls us to release our ledgers of wrongs.
• Joseph exemplifies a profound approach to forgiveness by interpreting wrongs through God's providence rather than focusing on human betrayal.
• The story of the Prodigal Son highlights the contrasting attitudes of restoration versus resentment, emphasizing the importance of compassion in our relationships.

Well, good day to you and thanks for joining us in our study.

We left last time talking about forgiveness.

And of course, this is all in the context of a man's responsibility in relationship to his wife.

That's been our focus now for several weeks.

I want to pick up with that.

We left off discussing what covenant forgiveness really accomplishes.

Rather than just being forgetful and not remembering the past.

It's the idea of not bringing it up, not ever using it again against anyone.

And so it allows the future to be really governed by love and redemption rather than by accusation and trying to find fault and keeping a ledger, as we've been discussing now for several weeks.

And that brings us to one of the greatest parables that our Lord ever told concerning forgiveness.

And I want to study this with you.

This morning, Peter had reproached the Lord with what he believed to be remarkable generosity.

He had said, lord, how oft will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him till seven times.

Somehow Peter imagined that forgiveness could be measured.

He assumed that mercy possessed a reasonable limitation.

Surely seven offenses demonstrated extraordinary patience.

And so.

But there's a cutoff somewhere, is the assumption.

And Jesus answered in a way that completely shatters his arithmetic.

He said, I say not to you until seven times, but until 70 times seven.

Now, please understand, our Lord was not giving Peter a larger calculator.

He was.

Taking the calculator away is the point.

Love can't be measured by keeping score.

This is what we've been saying all along.

The very act of counting reveals the ledger is still open.

And so the question is no longer, how many times should I forgive?

The question becomes, why am I still counting?

It's not about how many times or how often.

Jesus immediately then tells the story of a servant who owed his king an impossible debt.

The amount was so enormous that no lifetime could repay it.

But justice demanded payment.

So the servant had nothing.

He pleads for mercy.

And the king did something astonishing.

He forgave him everything.

All of the debt was paid and forgiven.

Not part of the debt.

All of the debt.

The books were closed, the account was completely settled, and the servant walked away a free man.

Yet before the day ended, he found a fellow servant who owed him a comparatively small amount.

And instead of extending the same mercy and consideration that he had received, he seized this man by the throat and demanded immediate payment.

Now, this contrast could.

Couldn't be any greater.

Here's a forgiven man who became a debt collector.

That's exactly what happens whenever a husband maintains a ledger against his wife.

He who has been forgiven 10,000 talents begins demanding payment for a hundred pence.

He who lives every day beneath the mercy of Calvary suddenly insists upon strict justice within his own home.

That's a tragedy.

It's not merely that he's forgotten his wife's failures.

The tragedy is that he has forgotten his own forgiveness.

And so the King's final word should shake every believing heart.

He says, shouldest thou not have had compassion on your fellow servant, even as I had pity on thee?

There is a foundation for or of forgiveness.

It's not because your wife deserves it, but.

But it's because Christ showed it to you.

You see, the Gospel forever changes the mathematics in any relationship.

And every offense committed against us must eventually be measured beside the infinite greater debt that Christ has already canceled on our behalf.

So only then does the ledger begin to loose its grip upon the heart.

There's another example I think, that ought to stand out.

When we talk about this topic, you remember Joseph.

He becomes a living illustration of everything Jesus has just been teaching.

He's the man who had every reason to keep the ledger, and yet he chose to interpret his entire life through God's providence, by God's hand, rather than through his brother's cruelty.

He said, you might have meant it for bad, but God meant it for good.

I think Joseph deserves an entire major section by himself because he is in so many ways the Old Testament embodiment of Christ's example of love.

I mean, he.

Even he fits the picture described in First Corinthians 13.

I think Joseph is actually the perfect bridge between theology and practice.

Here's why.

Up to that point, you know, we've.

We've explained already that God doesn't remember our sins and what he does with our sins.

We looked at Psalm 103 and Micah 7, Jeremiah 31, Hebrews 8, Matthew 18.

And though we haven't spent an enormous amount of time on any of them, we brought them to your attention because they established this teaching on forgiveness.

And you might be thinking, has anyone ever actually lived this way?

Joseph says, yes, I have.

But I don't want to use Joseph merely because he forgave his brothers.

That's true, true enough, but it barely scratches the surface on what we're trying to say today.

The greatness of Joseph's forgiveness is found in how he interpreted his entire life.

You see, he refused to allow the sins that were committed against him to become the controlling explanation of his life.

Instead, he interpreted every injustice and every sin against him through the sovereign providence of God and That's key.

That's why Joseph never became a prisoner.

His ledger and I want to develop the same kind of an attitude.

And as I've said already, if we could learn from Joseph, he possessed every human reason to keep a record of wrongs.

And yet Joseph refused to do it.

I think few people have ever suffered like Joseph did.

He suffered injustice at the hands of those who would should have loved him most.

His enemies were not strangers, they were his own brothers.

And they didn't merely speak harshly to him during a moment of anger.

They conspired to kill him.

They stripped him of his robe the father had given him, then cast him into a pit.

And they sat down then to eat while he pleaded for his life.

And finally they sold him into slavery as though he were nothing more than property to be exchanged for money.

And then to complete their deception, they carried his blood stained garment back to the father and allowed this aged father to believe that his son had been torn apart by wild beasts.

Now, if ever there was a man justified in keeping a ledger, Joseph appears to be that man.

Had Joseph devoted every day of the next 20 years to rehearsing and thinking about the cruelty of his brothers and how he would get even, why, few people would have questioned his bitterness.

He would have been justified in the minds of every carnal minded man for sure.

Humanly speaking, he had every reason to be resentful.

And every chapter of his early life seemed to provide another entry.

For the record, his brothers betrayed him.

Potiphar's wife falsely accused him, his integrity placed him in prison, the chief butler forgot him, promising that he would remember him when he got out.

And again and again Joseph experienced disappointment and injustice and abandonment.

If anyone had cause to be bitter, it would have been Joseph.

One could hardly imagine a life that provided any more opportunities for it.

And yet something very remarkable happened in Joseph's life because the circumstances didn't determine the condition of his heart.

Think about that.

It deserves some very careful consideration because it lies at the very center of biblical forgiveness.

We assume that bitterness is the inevitable result of being deeply wounded.

This also comes up when we talk about forgiving someone who's not repented and that we might do them an injustice by being too free to tell them we forgive them when sin hasn't been really addressed and they haven't dealt with it.

That's.

That doesn't mean that not doing so means that the only other recourse is to be bitter.

But seems like for some reason we just assume that bitterness is the very opposite result and it's just natural for us to be deeply wounded and carry this bitterness.

Well, prodigal son, Father, he didn't do that.

I mean, just because he, his son was in a far country, he had no opportunity to forgive him.

He had every desire for that to happen, but forgiveness never occurred until the son came home.

And though that's an important point, I want you to see this very important point that we're making here with regard to Joseph and the example that he leaves husbands.

Joseph, though he could have been very bitter insofar as the human heart is concerned.

Joseph looked at his life and where he was at the time that he talks to his brothers and he sees God's hand in it.

That God had been shaping Joseph into one of the most great gracious man of all scriptures.

And rather than being cynical or suspicious of others or resentful, he became the very means by which God all of that shaped him into the man that he became.

You might say, well, how can that be?

Well, because what happened inside Joseph that prevented him from becoming the historian of his own pain?

The answer is seen gradually throughout the narrative because long before Joseph forgave his brothers, he had learned to see something greater than their sin.

He had learned to see the hand of God.

And that is so very important.

Providence is one of the most comforting doctrines in all the Scriptures because it reminds us that God's government extends beyond and even over the sinful actions of men.

It doesn't excuse evil.

I'm not suggesting that, or that all of a sudden no one's accountable.

It doesn't lessen human responsibility.

Joseph's brothers were guilty, that is for sure.

Potiphar's wife truly lied, and the butler actually forgot his promise.

But none of those acts became less sinful because God ultimately accomplished his purpose through them.

Evil remains evil.

But Joseph discovered another truth.

Standing above all of those.

God had never surrendered control.

Every pit became another step toward the palace.

Every injustice, every disappointment was just another instrument in the hands of divine judgment, where God was quietly moving toward forward toward redemption.

Joseph didn't arrive at that understanding overnight.

You can see that it was forged over years of walking with God.

And it matured in lonely places where no explanation seemed available.

And if you think about all the long nights in prison when God's purposes remain hidden from his sight.

But faith learned to trust what the eyes could not yet see.

And as long as Joseph viewed his life primarily through the actions of his brothers, why, there could be nothing but resentfulness.

Resentment would have appeared entirely reasonable.

Though.

But once he began viewing his life through the providence of God, another interpretation became possible.

You see, his brothers remained responsible for their wickedness, but they no longer occupied the central place of his thinking.

God did.

And that distinction is so important.

The heart can focus on only one controlling explanation at a time.

Either the sins committed against us become the defining story of our lives, or the sovereign goodness of God becomes the defining story.

Some people will always think that they're the victims, and that's how they look at their lives.

But Joseph chose the latter.

Years later, when famine brought his brothers trembling before him, Joseph possessed absolute power.

You remember, these brothers, frightened standing before him, had no idea that the governor of Egypt was the very brother that they had betrayed years ago.

And at that moment, Joseph held their future in his hands.

He could imprison them if he wanted to.

He could enslave them.

He could have executed them.

He could have certainly publicly humiliated them in a number of different ways.

No earthly authority would have questioned that decision.

But justice itself seemed to invite retaliation.

And that seems to be how the carnal mind thinks.

But Joseph did something that can only be understood in light of God's will and God's mind, the mind of Christ.

He wept.

That's one of the most remarkable details in this entire account.

Joseph does not greet his brothers with cold satisfaction, as if to say, I finally got you where I want you.

He doesn't enjoy watching them suffer.

He doesn't delight in finally possessing the upper hand over them, or say, I told you so.

Remember when I told you about my dreams?

Again and again, the narrative in Joseph's life tells us that Joseph withdrew to weep.

But those tears reveal a heart that had already released the ledger long before the reunion ever occurred.

When Joseph finally revealed his identity, his first concern was not revenge.

It was reconciliation.

Notice, he says, come near to me, I pray you.

What gracious words from a man who had every reason, humanly speaking, to remain distant from them.

Then Joseph uttered one of the most profound statements in the entire book of Genesis.

Now, therefore, be not grieved nor angry with yourselves that you sold me hither.

For God did send me before you to preserve life.

Now think about that carefully.

What Joseph didn't say, he didn't deny what his brothers had done.

He'd pretend that their betrayal never happened.

Some people do that with sin and problems that others have created in relationships.

He didn't pretend.

He didn't minimize their guilt.

He just simply interpreted their actions through a greater reality.

The brothers said, we sold you.

Joseph said, God Sent me.

See, both statements were true, but one described the human level and the other described the divine level.

I hope you see that.

And so Joseph's theology became stronger than his memory.

Do you see that?

That's why he could forgive.

You see, a man who believes only in human actions and thinks on that level of.

Of the carnal mind, then he'll almost always struggle to release the ledger.

He's gotta keep that memory alive.

But the man who learns to see the sovereign hand of God, that's quietly at work, even though painful they may be.

And he'll discover a freedom that bitterness can never produce.

It no longer asks only, what did they do to me?

They begin asking, what has God been doing through all of this?

That question does not erase the pain, but it redeems the pain.

There's lessons learned.

There's grace that abounds.

And so redeemed pain no longer needs a ledger because it has discovered a purpose greater than revenge.

The prodigal son does the same thing.

It answers an entirely.

Well, it's.

It's a similar question, yet in some ways it's different.

If we were to think about the prodigal son for just a minute now, by comparison, how does love receive the one who has failed?

Joseph teaches the heart of the offended love, but the Father teaches the heart of the forgiver.

There's a little bit of difference in emphasis.

And the elder brother, what does he teach?

The heart of the ledger keeper?

He's that brother who's bitter.

And he wants justice.

He wants fairness.

And so that's why I think this belongs here.

I believe it's important to think about that.

And there's another reason.

Up to this point, as we've been studying these things, we've shown that we've talked about the ledger, the idea of keeping score and remembering the past so that we can maybe use it against them.

To illustrate or prove our point, we've talked about the psychology of that ledger, the theology of it, and God's treatment of our ledger, and Joseph's victory over keeping score over the ledger.

But now Jesus himself becomes our teacher.

And whenever possible, I like ending in argument with Christ and his example.

Not because his words are more inspired than Paul's or Moses, they're all equally inspired, but because there's something profoundly moving about watching the Lord himself expose the human heart.

And he does it so well.

And here's something I don't think most people think or even notice.

The parable is usually called the prodigal son.

I actually think that's not a good title.

The younger son disappears halfway through the story.

The real climax begins when the elder brother walks out of the field.

Everything Jesus had been building toward suddenly comes into the focus.

The younger son had already repented.

The father had already forgiven him.

The celebration had already begun.

But Jesus introduces the ledger and the one holding it.

Think about this.

His first words were, lo, Father, these many years.

What's that?

That's counting.

He's counting.

Do you see that?

He's using arithmetic.

Look at how long I've been with you.

And I've been faithful to you all these years.

He's counting.

Neither transgressed I your law.

He's still counting.

And then thou never gave us me, You know, never gave us me a.

A lamb that I might make merry with my friends.

What's he doing?

He's still counting.

And then this thy son.

Not my brother, but this thy son.

When he comes, you kill the catacaf.

You give him all these things.

He can't even call him his brother.

The ledger has rewritten the relationship.

And that's one of the most accurate pictures in all scripture.

People who carry ledgers stop seeing people.

They start seeing cases.

They start seeing the files.

They start recollecting or remembering all the offenses.

See, the brother is no longer his brother.

He's the offender.

That's exactly what happens in marriage.

They almost are treated as enemies.

A husband slowly quits seeing the woman I love and begins seeing the woman who disappointed me, the woman who embarrasses me, the woman who said the woman.

Who did.

The woman.

See, he's keeping record.

And the ledger slowly changes her name to she's the woman, or my old lady, as some men refer to her.

I think that's one of the deepest observations in the entire chapter.

This your son, when he comes, you give him this, and you give him that.

And you do this for him.

And then notice something else.

The elder brother has almost no joy.

And why is that?

Well, because ledgers steal celebration.

Now the father's rejoicing.

The servants are rejoicing.

And the restored son is rejoicing.

There's only one man in this story who refuses to rejoice.

He refuses to go in outside sulking, as it were, because of the injustice, as he sees it.

Because, you see, his books don't balance.

But grace, my friends, never balances.

The books.

Grace closes the books.

That elder brother, he can't celebrate because he's trying to do accounting.

And the father is doing accounting.

He's not doing it anymore.

He's doing restoration, and that's the difference.

And it's an enormous difference.

But now I want you to turn pages a little bit in your mind and think about this.

Because a loving father loves both sons, and because he loves both sons, he leaves the party.

That's astonishing to me.

The younger son, you see, he needed no more restoration.

It was completed.

Forgiveness had been done.

Restoration was accomplished, and joy was the result.

The younger son, it wasn't necessary for him to stay with him, but he was concerned about another son who needed restoration.

The elder son, he needed repentance, and.

And the father pursues both.

One had the sins of the flesh, the other had the sins of the heart.

One wasted his inheritance, the other wasted his heart.

One came home from a far country, the other never realized he was living in one.

Jesus deliberately leaves the party because of the elder son's attitude, because he loved him.

And I think that the Jews understood this application.

He deliberately leaves the ending unfinished, though without making the application.

There was really no need to make it for them.

The Pharisees are the elder brother, aren't they?

He wants them to decide, will you come into the Father's joy, or will you remain holding to your ledgers?

So imagine bringing that into the marriage.

Every husband eventually decides, am I going to stand outside the celebration holding my ledger, or am I going to come inside and rejoice that grace has restored the woman that I love.

That becomes an incredible, powerful transition.

You can stay bitter, you can hold on to that resentment, or you can have the mind of Christ.

I actually think something has happened.

When we think about what occurs, when we can get over this and lay aside our ledgers, it becomes about whether a husband loves his wife enough to rejoice in her restoration.

If he.

If he, seeking her restoration and longs for that restoration to occur, must be patient.

Instead of remaining satisfied with her condemnation, he should be reaching toward her restoration.

And that's exactly the difference between the father and the elder brother.

One wanted the restoration, the other wanted vindication.

One rejoiced over repentance, and the other preferred that the offender continue suffering.

That's the choice that every husband eventually faces.

And I think Jesus intended us to feel the weight of that decision.

I could spend a considerable amount time Looking at Luke 15 before going on, but for next time, we want to come back to this.

We want to move to Calvary, because I think it's in Calvary that we really see the end of the story.

The Prodigal Son is not primarily about the prodigal son, though it's about the two brothers, two hearts, two entirely different ways of responding to sin.

Jesus spends the climax of the parable on the elder brother.

Not necessarily the most amount, the greater amount of time, but the climax was at the end.

And that's not accidental.

I think this passage and this lessons of the prodigal son should be one of the most emotional high points in your life.

There's no passage in Scripture that illustrates the difference between a heart governed by grace and a heart governed by a ledger that does it any more beautifully than our Lord's parable in Luke 15.

For generations it has been shown and known as the prodigal son.

And I guess rightly so, the younger son does occupy much of the story.

But really it's about the older son.

The younger son was lost.

There's another son in the story, and he's just as lost.

The setting of the parable prepares us for this very lesson.

Luke tells us that the publicans and the sinners were drawing near to hear Jesus, while the Pharisees and scribes responded very differently.

And so in response to their criticism, Jesus tells these three parables that illustrate heaven's rejoicing.

Thank you so much.

I trust you have a good day and a pleasant week.