The Debt We Forget

There’s something about a baseball game in the summer. I know, I know… every summer I talk about baseball. I can’t help it, friends. I absolutely love going to baseball games—whether it’s my kids playing, a random college team, or a professional game. Give me my water bottle, some popcorn, and a hot dog slathered in mustard, and I’m one happy camper.

This past weekend, though, I witnessed some of the ugly side of youth baseball: disgruntled parents and coaches.

Nothing can turn a beautiful, breezy summer day at the ballpark into a sour evening faster than adults who forget that youth sports are supposed to be about kids enjoying the game. But this particular group took it to a whole other level.

Instead of saying, "I'm frustrated with how this tournament is being run," or, "I wish there had been better communication," they chose words like, "You're hosting a terrible tournament," and, "You're worthless."

With no grace, patience, or tact, they tore down the very people who had volunteered countless hours to make sure their children had a place to play that weekend.

It was heartbreaking.

The whole drive home I replayed the situation in my mind, wondering how it could have gone differently. If I'm being honest, part of me wanted to give those adults a lesson in compassion and basic human decency. But eventually I realized that if I had done that, I would've been guilty of responding with the very same spirit I was condemning.

Then another thought crossed my mind:

"I'm so grateful Jesus doesn't talk to me like that."

Because I fail...a lot.

And yet, He never responds by calling me worthless.

He corrects me, but He does so with love. He convicts me without condemning me. He values me even while He lovingly points me toward something better.

Thank You, Jesus.

As I reflected on that, I couldn't help but think about the parable Jesus told in Matthew 18.

“The Kingdom of Heaven can be compared to a king who decided to bring his accounts up to date with servants who had borrowed money from him. In the process, one of his debtors was brought in who owed him millions of dollars. He couldn’t pay, so his master ordered that he be sold—along with his wife, his children, and everything he owned—to pay the debt.

“But the man fell down before his master and begged him, ‘Please, be patient with me, and I will pay it all.’ Then his master was filled with pity for him, and he released him and forgave his debt.

“But when the man left the king, he went to a fellow servant who owed him a few thousand dollars. He grabbed him by the throat and demanded instant payment.

“His fellow servant fell down before him and begged for a little more time. ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay it,’ he pleaded. But his creditor wouldn’t wait. He had the man arrested and put in prison until the debt could be paid in full” (Matthew 18:23-30, NLT).

What strikes me every time I read this passage isn't just the amount of debt that was forgiven—it's how quickly the servant forgot the mercy he had been shown. Moments after receiving unimaginable grace, he refused to extend even a fraction of that same grace to someone else.

If I'm honest, I see myself in that story more than I'd like to admit.

Jesus has been incredibly patient with me. He's forgiven my pride, my selfishness, my impatience, and the countless times I've fallen short. He doesn't excuse my sin, but He also doesn't define me by it. Instead, He lovingly calls me to repentance and reminds me that His mercy is new every morning.

So how can I receive that kind of grace and then withhold it from someone else?

Watching those parents that day, I couldn't help but wonder if we sometimes forget just how much we've been forgiven. It's easy to demand perfection from other people while expecting patience for ourselves. We want understanding when we make mistakes, but we're quick to assume the worst when someone else does. We crave grace, yet we're often reluctant to give it.

Jesus tells this parable because He wants His followers to be different. People who have experienced His forgiveness should become the quickest to forgive. People who have received His kindness should become the quickest to show kindness. Our words should reflect the grace we've been given.

That doesn't mean we never address problems. There are appropriate ways to express disappointment, ask questions, or offer criticism. But there is a profound difference between confronting an issue and crushing a person. One seeks restoration; the other simply inflicts damage.

Guys, we've got to become people of grace.

Even when we're frustrated. Even when we're inconvenienced. Even when we think we're right. Until we know the whole story, we have no business assigning motives or crowning someone with shame.

Jesus gave us grace. He continues to give us grace every single day. So shouldn't that grace overflow into the way we treat everyone around us?

I'm preaching to myself here, too. It's easy to become frustrated. It's easy to become self-righteous. It's easy to act entitled. Grace isn't always easy to give—but neither was the cross.

So let's live more like Jesus. Let's choose words that heal instead of wound. Let's remember the debt we've been forgiven and freely forgive the smaller debts others owe us. And maybe, just maybe, the next time someone encounters us, they'll walk away having experienced a little more of the kindness of Christ than they expected.

After all, what better way to show people Jesus than by treating them the way He first treated us?