Author: Peter Burfeind

“And his master was angry, and delivered him to the torturers until he should pay all that was due to him. So My heavenly Father also will do to you if each of you, from his heart, does not forgive his brother his trespasses.”

Three interesting things come to the fore in this passage. What does it mean to be delivered to the torturers “until” the payment is paid off? What is the focal point of this “will do to you,” communal, individual, or both? And what does it mean to forgive “from the heart”?

But let’s begin by focusing on the bigger message: the Father gets “angry” when people aren’t forgiving each other. He wants His kingdom to be a place of forgiveness. Recall, Peter asked Jesus about use of the keys, how often he should use them, and Jesus gives this parable. To not use the keys abundantly, and often, is to incur the Lord’s wrath.

Now into the details.

Being delivered to the torturers “until” the debt is paid off suggests to some the doctrine of Purgatory. That’s a stretch. The servant will not pay off the 10,000 talent debt. Ever.

What’s more interesting is that the man was handed over to torturers. This tells us something about the character of the servant. Torturers in the ancient world were used to extract information out of criminals. This suggests the reason for the man’s squandering of a 10,000 talent loan was not due to negligence, but to criminality or fraud. In other words, he had the funds somewhere, fraudulently hidden. This suits his greedy character, which became manifest to the fellow servant who owed him.

If this interpretation is correct, it makes you wonder why the king would forgive such a greedy character. Did he not know his character? Well, maybe he did, and his point was, “I just gave you a gift of 10,000 talents to feed your greed. But think. If I create a kingdom where such gifts are possible, there’s no reason to be greedy. There’s plenty for everyone!” This theme, that the “treasures of heaven” destroy the limiting forces of mammon, such that there is eternal abundance for all, comes up quite a bit in the Gospel.

The servant, of course, didn’t learn that lesson, and insisted on remaining in mammon’s world of limitation and scarcity.

As far as interpretations go, this idea that the servant was fraudulent – a crook – adds some dimension. Here, it’s not just that he was unforgiving, but abusive with the gifts he did have. God’s grace is mine, but not thine. God’s forgiveness is for me, but not thee. I will sublimate and manipulate the doctrine of forgiveness – almost fraudulently – in a suit of armor protecting my own ego (to use a wonderful image recently conveyed to me), but deny you any benefits from that doctrine.

According to the parable, it may take torture to get the servant thinking rightly, to extract out of him the proper understanding of grace, both for himself and for others.

Who is the focal point of the phrase, “So My heavenly Father all will do to you”? Who is “you”? Peter asked the question, and a solid argument can be made he was asking on behalf of the twelve, or even the Church. The “you” is plural. So Jesus is issuing the judgment against the body of believers, the Church. What judgment? Being handed over to the torturers.

This fits with the tone of Jesus’ overall teaching. If someone causes a lost, little, repentant sheep to stumble in his faith because forgiveness is denied him, a millstone is put around his neck and he’s thrown into the sea; he’s cut off from the larger body; he’s tortured. In this context, the torturing may not be so much about extracting information – as interesting as that interpretation might be – but simply punitive. The idea is, if you get in the way of the Holy Spirit’s work, you’re done for, pure and simple.

But what if we apply a lens of interpretation that frequents the Gospels, and that’s the relationship between Jews and Gentiles? We noted that this might shed light on the Lazarus and Rich man account, and several others. Could we apply that lens here? Is Jesus preparing Peter for dealing with gentiles? The twelve apostles, the new tribes of Israel, were tasked with ministering forgiveness. They themselves – not only Peter but all of Israel – had been forgiven much, much idolatry, much faithlessness. Now, tasked with taking this forgiveness out among the nations, would they deny that forgiveness to the more gentile who comes to her seeking God’s grace?

The Jews, in fact, were forgiven much in Christ’s cross, but were “fraudulent” with this grace, setting up a structure of teaching and theology that “hid away” God’s grace in its many traditions and new laws, which denied its being administered to others. What if they needed to be tortured for a time, in order for them to learn the true nature of this grace? Jewish theology has an explanation for the suffering they’ve had over their history, that it is messianic. Is there something going on with this?

Also note that Peter himself had to relearn this parable when he first confronted the gentiles, and God gave him the “pigs in a blanket” vision. Read selections from this account in light of this week’s Gospel: Then Peter opened his mouth and said: “In truth I perceive that God shows no partiality. But in every nation whoever fears Him and works righteousness is accepted by Him. …And [Jesus] commanded us to preach to the people, and to testify that it is He who was ordained by God to be Judge of the living and the dead. To Him all the prophets witness that, through His name, whoever believes in Him will receive remission of sin.”  While Peter was still speaking these words, the Holy Spirit fell upon all those who heard the word. And those of the circumcision who believed were astonished, as many as came with Peter, because the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out on the Gentiles also.”

Somehow, at first, Peter wanted to hide God’s grace in Jewish custom, preventing forgiveness from being administered to the Gentiles. He had to relearn the lesson of Matthew 18. The Jews’ greatest legacy is Jesus Christ, the incredible grace and forgiveness in Him, and yet they have no claim in Him. How angry is the Lord at this? What sorts of millstones and tortures are at work here?

Finally, we get to “forgiving from the heart.” This is probably the most bothersome language for most Christians, particularly from the Protestant tradition, who love focusing on the heart. “Have I really forgiven my abusive father?” Such questions haunt the poor Christian as he believes his eternal fate – bliss or torture – rests on the question of whether his heart was fully mustered in the forgiveness of someone who wronged them.

And we’re not longer talking about communal forgiveness here, as Jesus says, “So My heavenly Father also will do to you if each of you, from his heart, does not forgive his brother his trespasses.” He uses the phrase “each of you, from his heart.” That’s singular. The Lord definitely is teaching forgiveness, by each individual Christian, “from the heart.”

But keep in mind, the ancient view of the heart was not our modern understanding, which is feeling-oriented. Because of our view of the heart, we hear Jesus’ words about forgiving from the heart and think, “We have to really feel forgiveness for the one who wronged us.” And sometimes eradicating those feelings is downright impossible, so we fall into despair because of those torturers and millstones.

But let’s look at how one lexicon defines heart: “the causative source of a person’s psychological life in its various aspects, but with special emphasis upon thoughts—‘heart, inner self, mind.’”

In the ancient world, the heart was more like what I like to call “the heart of hearts.” It’s what we believe deep down. It’s the principles governing what we ultimately think. When I run into someone who struggles with forgiveness, I ask them, “Do you really, deep down in your heart, want this person to go to hell and be tortured forever and ever?” To that they will say, “Well, no.” Sure, they won’t have the right feelings, but forgiveness isn’t so much about feeling as it is about living by a principle. You don’t have to feel good about someone not to seek revenge, try to hurt them, or act out a principle of non-forgiveness.

And this leads us back to the communal nature of forgiveness, where I believe Jesus and Peter began. Forgiveness is a principle of the Christian Gospel that each Christian acts out in the Church and its fellowship. It is the heart, so to speak, of the Christian, the foundation of his Christian identity. Though he may not “feel” forgiveness for certain types of people in the church, he nevertheless supports the church’s ministry to be a place of forgiveness. It’s in his heart.

“So when his fellow servants saw what had been done, they were very grieved, and came and told their master all that had been done. Then his master, after he had called him, said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you begged me. Should you not also have had compassion on your fellow servant, just as I had pity on you?’

There’s a certain type of hypocrisy that Christians are falsely accused of, but there’s another kind of hypocrisy that’s sad to see, when it does happen.

What’s the hypocrisy Christians are falsely accused of? It’s the understanding that hypocrisy is saying one thing but doing another. That’s the modern understanding of hypocrisy, but not the biblical definition. In any event, many will point out how Christians do this or that – that is, they sin – and then say, “See! Christians say we should all follow the Ten Commandments, but look, they don’t even follow it.”

Um, perhaps someone should inform them that there’s this Christian thing called confession and repentance, whereby we confess ourselves to be sinners who break the Ten Commandments. How is a Christian a hypocrite when he says, “We should keep the Ten Commandments, but I break them all the time. This is why I need Jesus.”?

Hypocrisy that’s sad to see is the biblical form or hypocrisy. Biblical hypocrisy is not saying one thing and doing another, but simply pretending to be something you aren’t. The Greek word hypocrite means “actor.” It’s someone who is acting, pretending, or putting on a false front.

The servant in our Gospel put on a false front. He took a posture of begging for forgiveness, when in fact in his heart he truly believed he could have paid it all off, that debt was something he could take care of himself. He was pretending to need mercy. What he really wanted was time.

Likewise is the one who has been forgiven much by the Lord, but who cannot forgive others, a pretender, an actor, playing the part of being a forgiven sinner, of having been forgiven much, but who has no forgiveness for the one who wrongs him. This person never really “connected” with what the Lord has done for him. He lacks faith. He’s only pretending to have faith.

The Christian forgives. This is not like any other work, like keeping the Ten Commandments which we all fail in. Jesus has no emphasis that those who disobey parents, or hurt others, or lust, or lie, or covet will go to hell – those sins are all forgiven. He has no petition in the Lord’s Prayer like, “Give us this day our daily bread, as I in turn refrain from rebellion, hate, lust, jealousy, and covetousness.” But He does have something like this for forgiveness.

As He says, “So My heavenly Father also will do to you if each of you, from his heart, does not forgive his brother his trespasses.” This isn’t Law; this is Gospel! Isn’t forgiveness Gospel, for goodness’ sake? The Church will be a place where the Gospel is proclaimed and its members will support and carry that work.

On these terms, lack of a forgiving heart is related to a rejection of the Holy Spirit. Of course it is! The Holy Spirit was given with the gift of absolution. The Holy Spirit’s work is to work reconciliation with the Father, to deliver to us by declaration the fellowship Jesus has regained with the Father. His work is all about forgiveness. So, having been dealt with by this spiritual work, how can we possibly not forgive others, or present the Church as a place other than a place of forgiveness?

The Church and its members are just playing pretend if the Church fails in this mission.

And others notice it! That’s what we get in today’s passage. Other fellow servants were grieved when they saw what the first servant did to the other one. They saw it! They saw the hypocrisy going on, and it wasn’t pretty. Here was a man who had just been introduced to a wonderful world of goodness, where all his debts were forgiven, and nothing from this world carried over into his own life.

This actually takes us a back to the modern understanding of hypocrisy as well, which is legitimate. How can Christians claim they are forgiven by the Lord, but then not be forgiving to one another? OK, fine, Christians claim covetousness is wrong, but yet we covet all the time – hey, we’re working on it! Don’t claim we’re hypocrites because we struggle to live by the very moral code by which we know ourselves to be sinners.

However, you have a point when you point out how we’re all about forgiveness, but don’t show that forgiveness in our lives. Or, when our church is not first and foremost seen as a place of forgiveness. That is sad to see, and the toxicity of such churches is their downfall.

Now, caveat time. Because in today’s age, many will say, “See! That’s why the church should be accepting of gay marriage, homosexuals, sexual immorality, and what not.” But acceptance is not forgiveness. Acceptance is to take someone with a debt and say, “Hey, that’s not a debt, so why would it need to be forgiven? We’ll just accept you as you are, as if you had no debt.”

No, actually the Church is getting in the way of forgiveness when it denies certain sins are sins. The homosexual will never know himself a sinner in need of forgiveness if he’s never told homosexuality is a sin. That church is becoming a stumbling block to the homosexual, causing him to stumble in his faith, not because it denied him forgiveness, but because it denied him the need for forgiveness in the first place. What’s really the difference?

Acceptance requires no sacrifice, because it denies the load of debt. Forgiveness requires sacrifice. The king lost something real and tangible in his forgiveness, 10,000 talents. The servant was called to lose something real and tangible in return, 200 denarii. Jesus lost His life to give forgiveness for the sin of homosexuality and sexual immorality. Woe betide anyone who would deny either the sinfulness of that sin, or how it’s forgiven.

“But that servant went out and found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii; and he laid hands on him and took him by the throat, saying, ‘Pay me what you owe!’ So his fellow servant fell down at his feet and begged him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’ And he would not, but went and threw him into prison till he should pay the debt.”

Evidently the servant here missed the memo, that the king had issued a sabbatical year of debt forgiveness. Who knows whether that Hebrew law (the sabbatical year of debt forgiveness found in Deuteronomy 15) provides any background to this Gospel, but at least we can say, for the one servant – and presumably for any other servant who would have begged for mercy – there was a sabbatical heart of debt forgiveness available in the king. And those who “supped” from that heart would surely, cheerfully share the goodness in the whole kingdom, at least those who understood the new world which arose from the king’s heart.

Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go? The king sets the tone for the kingdom. He even gave the servant the benefit of the doubt, and answered a prayer he didn’t ask. The servant asked for time; the king gave him forgiveness. Grace and goodness around for everyone, in utmost abundance!

And here goes the servant, getting stingy about a hundred denarii. How much is a hundred denarii? A denarius was about two dollars, so we’re talking about $200. It’s not nothing, but after you’ve just been forgiven billions…it’s nothing.

Notice the replication of verbiage between the first servant and the fellow servant. Here are the two phrases: First servant: [He] fell down before him, saying, ‘Master, have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’ Second servant: [He] fell down at his feet and begged him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’

I believe our passage for meditation today is among the most central verses in all of Scripture. It perfectly explains the relation between justification and sanctification. And how often is the teaching repeated? Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. We love others because our Lord first loved us. As the Lord has been gracious and generous to us, so are we to be toward others.

That would only be difficult for someone who didn’t (a) realized how great his debt of sin was and (b) realized there was no way he would ever repay it.

Think about it. There are three types of people, let’s say. First is one who doesn’t believe he has a debt, so being forgiven a debt would mean nothing. He’s sort of a fool; he’s the non-Christian. Second is the one who realizes how great a debt he has, but thinks he can repay it. He’s the one who has the right understanding that God forgives sins, but he still lives in a world where he can “make up” for his sins. In a world where people can “make up” for their sins, why shouldn’t he expect others to make up for their sins just as he has? Finally, there’s the one who realizes how great his sin is, and realizes he can’t ever repay it. He’s the one who will have a forgiving heart toward others, because he desperately needs and wants that world where debts are forgiven.

Lack of forgiveness toward others arises from bad theology, precisely the sort of theology embraced by the first servant, a theology which believes in a world where people make things right regarding their sins. That being the case, the Church’s responsibility – which is Jesus’ bigger point throughout this chapter – is to be the instrument by which our Lord creates that new world. Indeed, the Church is that new world!

And if any in the church, whether by teaching or by practice, would get in the way of the Lord creating that world, well, what are the warnings?

“Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in Me to sin, it would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck, and he were drowned in the depth of the sea.”

“If your hand or foot causes you to sin, cut it off and cast it from you. It is better for you to enter into life lame or maimed, rather than having two hands or two feet, to be cast into the everlasting fire. And if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out and cast it from you. It is better for you to enter into life with one eye, rather than having two eyes, to be cast into hell fire.”

“And his master was angry, and delivered him to the torturers until he should pay all that was due to him.”

This is talking about hell. Some look at the “until” and recognize the possibility of an end, which suggests for them Purgatory. Those are interesting discussions, but that’s not the point here. The point is the Lord will not forgive the one who is responsible for interfering with the Church being a testament to the Lord’s forgiveness. Again, Jesus is serious about the forgiveness He won for us on the cross.

And if we run with this understanding of the torturers, that it’s referring to hell, we get some more guidance on the sad reality of the original servant throwing his fellow servant in debtor’s prison. If we don’t forgive others, we impose our own personal hell upon them. Or, we put them in our own personal purgatory. We stand in the place of God.

We live in a world where sinners go to hell, or need to purge their sins off in purgatory, so we pass that world on to others. No one ever lives up to our standards. People live in misery because of the world we make for them, because we put them in our personal debtor’s prison. How sad! And how sad to see this at play in the world, especially among Christians.

Jesus has created a different world, a new kingdom, a place of utmost generosity. The Church and its members – all of them – are testaments to that forgiveness. The moment anyone forgets this, and returns to a world where repentant sinners aren’t forgiven, but sentenced to hell, well, the Lord will give him that world.

 

“But as he was not able to pay, his master commanded that he be sold, with his wife and children and all that he had, and that payment be made. The servant therefore fell down before him, saying, ‘Master, have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’ Then the master of that servant was moved with compassion, released him, and forgave him the debt.”

The king was capable of forgiving massive debt. He was settling accounts with more than one servant. Presumably, he would have been prepared to forgive other servants’ debts as well. This reality, resting on the details of the parable as they do, raises a question. Why settle accounts if you’re just going to forgive everything anyways? We proposed this question last devotion.

Clearly something stands out with the way the “certain servant” triggered the massive forgiveness. Yes, the king might have forgiven other debts too – we don’t hear anything about whether he did or not – but it wasn’t just a carte blanche forgiveness of debt. The one servant did something “above and beyond” the others leading to his forgiveness. What was that?

Obviously it’s his prayer. “Master, have patience with me, and I will pay you all” which almost looks like a “Lord, have mercy,” a Kyrie. The Kyrie is a good posture to begin with. Going back to the deep contextual background for this Gospel in Matthew 18, this is the posture of a humble child, the posture of a lost sheep, the posture of a sinning brother, the posture of one whose angel always beholds the Father’s face. The one praying the Kyrie truly embraces the “face” of the king, embracing the possibility of his beneficence. He doesn’t turn away in terror but “faces” the king.

And it’s a posture leading to the servant’s forgiveness. To bring up a theme we’ve come to several times, stories beginning with “Lord, have mercy” always have good endings.

However, “Master, have patience with me, and I will pay you all” is not “Lord, have mercy.” The former asks for time with the expectation of paying off the debt. The latter has no such promise – the suppliant just needs mercy, period.

Perhaps this hints at a problem with the servant. He didn’t quite have the humble, little, childlike, lost posture Jesus had just laid down as the foundation. He still took an “I got this” attitude. Perhaps he wasn’t fully jarred out of a world where people pay off their debts, so when he ran into one who owed him debts, he thought, “You know, I was fully ready to pay off my debts, and so should you. Sure the king forgave all my debt even though I was willing to pay it off myself – oh well, what a dupe! But sorry for you, pay up!”

The king answers a prayer the servant didn’t ask. The servant asks for time; the king gives him forgiveness. The king hoped the servant would learn a lesson, and that the incredible gift he had been given would translate into a new world for the servant, where debts are forgiven. Instead, the servant remained in the world suggested by his prayer.

This has interesting implications. On one hand, we realize our Lord is the merciful King. He is prepared to forgive massive debt, for any and all who “call upon the name of the Lord” in mercy and prayer. Not everyone does that, so yes, the day of accounting is a real day of real accounting for those who don’t look to the king for mercy.

On the other hand, the nature of the faith and prayer leading to that mercy can be “off.” The servant fell down before the king, because he was about to lose his goods, children, and wife. Even though his prayer was, “Give me more time, and I’ll be sure to pay back everything I owe you,” the king in essence heard, “Have mercy on me, for I am lost!” The king heard not the adult words of the servant but his childlike heart.

Yet, as we observe, what the king heard did not play out in the behavior of the servant. Rather, exactly as the servant spoke, so did he act – he remained in that adult world where debts must be paid off. It appears the king had misplaced assumptions about what he wanted to hear from the servant. He wanted to hear someone childlike begging for a world in which debts are mercifully forgiven; the servant instead remained in his adult world where debts can be paid off.

So what’s the take away on the king’s misplaced assumptions, particularly if this king is God? Perhaps it’s this. It’s similar to a theme brought up in last week’s Gospel, the healing of the nobleman’s son.

There we noted how the faith arising throughout the Gospel was all over the map – the man first came to Jesus with a misguided “signs and wonders” faith; he first believed Jesus’ words but perhaps not his Person; the nature of his faith on the way home was different than it was after he met the people who reported the son was healed; the son was healed first and came to believe later, representing the possibility that one can believe on behalf of another; finally, his whole household came to faith later.

Meanwhile, the one thing not all over the map, but impacting like a crater, were the words, “Your son lives.” Those words coupled with the actual realtime miracle were the objective “new world,” or “new normal” truth, which faith had to figure out, grow into, react to, and process. Faith is like that. Faith takes time to contour itself to the “new world” gift given.

Perhaps that’s what’s going on with the servant, or what didn’t go on. The servant, like the nobleman, begins with a misguided prayer. The king, like Jesus, answers not the misguided prayer, but what the suppliant really asked for. However, the nobleman (and his family) afterwards contoured his faith to the “new world” created by Jesus’ word; meanwhile, the servant had no faith at all – his faith didn’t contour to the gift.

It would be as if, in the story of the nobleman, he remained in his original world where he sought signs and wonders. So, after his son was healed, he only saw that as a cool act of healing – perhaps how we view the doctor who did surgery on us ten years ago – and not the inauguration of the new creation brought about by one Jesus Christ, who becomes the focal point of our existence.

The king offered the servant an opportunity to grow out of the world of his prayer into the world he introduced to him, a world of mercy and grace centered on the king’s goodness. The king expected the servant to have this goodness be the focal point of his existence, a goodness that the king hoped would ripple throughout the kingdom.

One final note. It’s interesting that Jesus gives us the petition, “forgive us our debts.” Where the servant’s prayer was off, Jesus gives us the proper words to pray. We don’t pray for time to improve our lives or make things right with God. No time will be enough to pay off our debts – so thinks the child, the little ones, the lost sheep. No, children, little ones, and lost sheep, like the publican, just need mercy and help. We need debt relief, and because that’s exactly what Jesus gives us, He gives us the petition which most surely will be answered in that way.

 

“Therefore the kingdom of heaven is like a certain king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. And when he had begun to settle accounts, one was brought to him who owed him ten thousand talents.”

Building off our last devotion, we suggested Jesus might want to scream at Peter after his tone deaf question. Hadn’t he been paying attention to Jesus as He taught about the abundance of grace that should be freely given out to the lost, little, childlike sheep who turn to the Lord? And now he wants to limit it to seven?

So Jesus “screams” a parable at him. The volume isn’t cranked up so much through the decibel level as it is in the extremely “loud” language used. Someone has a debt of 10,000 talents. 10,000 talents. There are all sorts of interesting estimates about how much this is. It runs in the billions of dollars.

Who has that sort of debt? Well, in the context for this Gospel, Peter does. Peter asks how to forgive, and Jesus places Peter in the parable, so to speak, as the one who is forgiven much. And he certainly was forgiven much. I’m not sure what the going rate on denial of Christ is, but given it results in eternal damnation, it must be pretty steep. “What will a man give in exchange for his soul?” Jesus puts the figure at, roughly, the whole world. That’s some debt.

The king is settling accounts with his servants, which is clearly judgment day. That’s when accounts are given. We often rush over this part of the parable, but doing so misses out what Jesus is screaming at us through His loud language.

Presumably, servants are coming before him who have debts. Isn’t that what it means to “settle accounts”? Then one comes who owes him billions of dollars. A servant. Not a small nation. A servant. How does one even run up that sort of debt?

Furthermore, what about the other servants and their debts? If the king was about to forgive a servant billions of dollars, we have to assume he was willing to forgive the others as well. Was that the case? Is this in fact part of the “loudness” of what Jesus is teaching, how crazily merciful this king was?

Yes, there is something that causes the “certain” servant to stand out, which we’ll get to next devotion. But for now, it shocks us to consider this entire day of accounting could have been one huge day of debt forgiveness, all of it forgiven.

If that’s the case, why did the king “want to settle accounts with his servants”? He knew he’d be willing to forgive massive debt, even the massive debt of servants with questionable character (as we’ll see with the unmerciful servant). Surely there were other servants with less debt and more generous hearts, and surely he would have been willing to forgive them as well. So what’s the whole point of wanting to settle accounts with his servants? For what reason?

The only reason that makes any sense is the king wanted to test his servants, to see if they would bank on his mercy. He could afford to forgive massive debt. He had plenty of wealth, evidently. But for some reason, he really wanted to introduce a new bond between himself and his servants, a bond of Giver and Receiver. “Ask and it shall be given you,” is his end goal. And as we’ll see, he wants this to ripple out into his kingdom.

That’s a pretty cool kingdom. “Go ahead, ask for billions of dollars. I’ll lend it to you, and when you beg for mercy, I’ll forgive it all. This is the sort of kingdom I want.”

Here’s another interesting direction to take the images of the parable. What did the servant do with billions of dollars? Was it poor investments? Was it squandered wealth? We seem to have a character that is potentially like a combination of the prodigal son and the servant given one talent. In any event we get no hint that this servant was, in fact, a billionaire. He wasted his goods in some way, which seems to be the case given he asked for patience – that is, some time – to come up with the repayment plan. Clearly he hadn’t invested wisely.

Also, how does the image Jesus uses, of the debt, relate to what its reference is, that is, sin? To forgive debt is to grant a whole heck of a lot of fun – billions of dollars of fun – at the king’s expense. In the parable, debt means wealth transfer from king to servant. In the spiritual meaning, debt means sin, which is related to wealth transfer how? What did we “borrow” from the Lord God when we sinned? We know He lost His Son, and His life, to cover that debt. So what do we gain in terms of sinning?

It’s an interesting question, isn’t it, when we explore the “debt” metaphor which, after all, makes it in the prayer we pray every day in some translations, “Forgive us our debts.” We owe God something, meaning something was transferred from Him to us, so that we gained the advantage of a loan of something, and He had to cover that loan by the death of His Son, by His Son’s life.

Is it life? Is it a life squandered? The Lord lent us His breath of life. Instead of using that life to have “life to the full,” we wasted it on death and deadly sins. When we give an account, the Lord essentially asks, “What did you do with your life?” We beg for mercy, and the Lord issues forgiveness based on His own Son giving up His life for ours.

This loops us back to a passage quoted above, “What will a man give in exchange for his soul?” The word for soul is “psyche,” which is also “life.” What is a life worth? Whatever it is worth, and it is an incredible amount of worth, we’ve squandered our eternal life, obviously, because we will die. The Lord who lent us our lives will have an accounting of what we did with it. Thankfully, we have a Lord who responds to our prayers for mercy.

 

Then Peter came to Him and said, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.”

As stated in the previous devotion, this question doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Jesus had just given a whole block of teaching on forgiveness, beginning with an actual child who symbolizes the childlike lostness of the humble, repenting sinner. In that block of teaching, Jesus pretty clear teaches the importance of the Church being a place of forgiveness for that lost, childlike sinner. Let’s review how He was clear:

First, He says, “Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in Me to sin, it would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck, and he were drowned in the depth of the sea.” To “cause to sin” more accurately means “to cause to stumble in faith.” In this case, Jesus isn’t talking about tempting a child to do something wrong. He’s talking about creating a situation in which a child loses his faith. Jesus will shortly explain and expand what he means by “child” and what causing him to stumble looks like.

Second, He says, “If your hand or foot causes you to sin, cut it off and cast it from you.” Here is the same phrase, “cause to sin.” And here Jesus expands on the “millstone around the neck/drowned into the sea” theme. Those who cause others to sin should be cut off the body. Discussion of the body hints that Jesus is ultimately talking about the body of believers – there is no tradition outside of gnostic quacks (like Origen) of severing parts of the body because they led to temptation. He’s talking about the body of believers. If someone among the body of believers propagates a teaching or practice which keeps the “little ones” in their sin, they should be excommunicated.

Third, Jesus says, “Take heed that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that in heaven their angels always see the face of My Father who is in heaven. For the Son of Man has come to save that which was lost.” Here we get that jump from “little ones” to “lost ones.” That’s how “child” is expanded and explained. And not just any lost ones, but lost ones who have repented, turned their faces to the Lord, through their angels (messengers) who carry their acts of worship to the Father – we get that also from the beginning of the section, where Jesus says we must be converted and become little children. We’re also getting explanation on what “cause to sin” means. It means to remain in our lostness, to get in the way of Jesus coming to save the lost ones.

Fourth, Jesus gives the little parable of the shepherd seeking the lost sheep, concluding, “Even so it is not the will of your Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish.” There is the blatant connection between lost ones and little ones.

Fifth, Jesus teaches about how to deal with the brother who sins against us. Three attempts at reconciliation should happen before he is “caused to sin,” that is, remain in his sin. First, we should go one on one with the fallen brother. Second, we take a few witnesses. Third, we take it to the church. Clearly, after the third attempt to bring a sinner to repentance, the blame for “causing this sinner to remain in his sin” is his own fault. The Church has done its due diligence, emulating the shepherd who seeks and saves that which is lost.

Sixth, Jesus teaches that the Church is the place of forgiveness, where all this activity is going on. This is the “body” which should have no one among its members “causing anyone to stumble.” This is Christ the Shepherd seeking and saving that which was lost, acting on his behalf.

Now, but way of other background, Jesus had already introduced the mystery that authority was given to men to forgive sins in Matthew 9. He demonstrated this when He healed the lame man. He said, “Son, your sins are forgiven you.” And then He proved that authority by demonstrating His divine power. Afterwards, the people glorified God “who had given such power to men,” that is, the power to forgive sins. Note, that power is given to “men,” not just Jesus.

Next bit of background. In Matthew 10 Jesus had gathered His Twelve together and authorized them to be His instruments of grace. Here he first introduced the “lost sheep” metaphor: “But go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. And as you go, preach, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’ Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out demons. Freely you have received, freely give.” So, whatever is to be given – like forgiveness – is to be given freely, for they themselves had received that same forgiveness.

These things, Jesus teaches later in chapter 10, are really being done by Jesus. For, as He says, “He who receives you receives Me.” Jesus is present among them. Jesus is a body, the Word made flesh. It’s antichristian to disconnect the flesh from Jesus’ spirit. If we speak of Jesus being “present” among His believers, there’s body going on. The Church is His body, manifest on earth.

Final bit of background. As Jesus had taught with the lame man, forgiveness is the true healing we need, because sin is the reason for death and disease in the first place. Can’t weed out humanity’s problems without getting at the roots! So absolution is ultimately what Jesus is building up toward. In Matthew 16, Jesus introduces the binding and loosing authority of the keys, specifically to Peter. “And I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”

We don’t know at this point if this is specifically about forgiveness, but in Matthew 18, our chapter we’re working with, we most certainly know: “Assuredly, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again I say to you that if two of you agree on earth concerning anything that they ask, it will be done for them by My Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered together in My name, I am there in the midst of them.”

There it all comes together. Peter, representing the Church’s ministry, is given the keys. This ministry is Christ’s bodily presence in the Church, which to receive is to receive Christ Himself. Christ Himself has already demonstrated His authority to forgive sins, and He has passed that authority onto the Twelve. He instructed them to give freely, as they themselves had been given freely. In the long buildup from Matthew 18 we’ve been contemplating – on forgiveness – we learn the power of the church to bind and loose is really to be Christ’s instrument of seeking lost, little sheep. And any attempt to diminish this gift, to hold back, to limit, or to give by measure, risks causing a lost, little sheep – one who turns to the Lord in repentance – to stumble in faith and die in his sins. And if this happens, a millstone should be put around the neck of the one who perpetuated this blasphemy.

So what does Peter, representing the Church (having first been given that authority to bind and loose and now learning what it’s used for), ask? “What limits on what you freely give should I impose?”

Jesus must have wanted to scream. Of course, He doesn’t scream, but He gives a parable that screams in its hyperboles, and has alarming foreshadowing specifically for Peter.

If we may, here’s a “reading between the lines” version of the parable of the unmerciful servant. “So, I’ve given you the keys and have already told you to freely give, and about millstones and cutting off body parts if you become stingy with grace. And now you ask me the extent of forgiveness you should pass on to the lost, little sheep who turn their face to my Father? Well, Peter, you who will deny me three times – that is, commit the worst sin ever three times – and thus incur the worst debt ever, I will forgive you three times, as often as you sinned against Me. As you head up the Church in Acts 2 and set the tone of my Church, so to speak, you had better remember how much you have been given. Freely you have received; freely give.”

Now, the usual caveats. Forgiveness isn’t absolute. It’s for those whose angels look upon the Lord’s face. To look upon the Lord’s face you have to “be converted” (like a child) toward the Lord’s face. There is something about the literal child who incarnates this “being converted,” even as Jesus places a literal child in their midst, but there is the metaphorical meaning as well. With childlike faith, like the faith of the lame man (which is nowhere indicated but merely got carried along by the others), or like the faith of the Canaanite woman, look to the Lord for salvation, look to Christ’s Church for salvation, and it will – it must – be given out, or it is not Christ’s Church.

 

This is one parable of Jesus which cannot be understood without some deep background. On the surface the parable is about forgiving others, which of course is a good point. But that’s like saying the point of Christianity is to believe in God. True, but there is some background and depth to explore regarding this statement.

There are actually multiple layers to peel off to get behind this great text, going all the way back to the beginning of Matthew 18. It begins with Jesus answering the disciples’ question about who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Jesus set a child in the midst of them and said, “Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever receives one little child like this in My name receives Me.”

Then He proceeds on a long discourse about “causing one of these little ones who believe in Me to sin.” To “cause to sin” in this context means “to stumble in the faith.” Those who would cause a little one to stumble in faith must be cut off the body, He teaches. For, as He concludes this section, “the Son of Man has come to save that which was lost.”

Ah, so now we’re not just talking about “little ones” but “lost ones.” Interesting shift, but that is how Jesus defines things, or moves things along. To receive Him like a little child is related to receiving Him humbly, as one who is lost. It’s to confess oneself to be in need of being found, in need of Jesus. the seeker of lost sheep.

Jesus says, “Even so it is not the will of your Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish.” It is not the Father’s will that the lost, little ones should be made to stumble in their faith, because someone got in the way of Christ going out to seek and save them.

Jesus then goes on to teach, “Moreover if your brother sins against you…” Here’s clarification on what a “lost, little one” is. It’s someone who sins. The “moreover” teaches us this. That is, in the same way that Jesus the Shepherd seeks the lost, little ones, because it’s not our Father’s will that any of these should perish, so also should we seek our own brothers, if they sin against us.

Going back to the context beginning the whole section, the opposite of seeking our brothers who sin against us, would be to “cause one of these little ones [lost sinners] to stumble” by keeping them in their sins, so that they remain lost.” Better a millstone is put around our necks and we are thrown into the sea than any sinner falls from the faith because he did not see in his brothers the forgiveness of Christ. Christ is serious about forgiveness – He died for the sins of the world to make His Church a place of forgiveness.

And that leads to what just precedes the parable for this week. Jesus says the lost, little ones will be restored as they are brought to the Church, for wherever two or three are gathered in His name, there the power of absolution is present. There, the power to bind and loose is.

Now, the power to bind and loose is the power of the keys, something Jesus has introduced two chapters previous when He gave the keys to Peter. So Peter sort of represents this authority to bind and loose, him having been the first person recorded to have received that authority. And Peter, on behalf of the other disciples, asks Jesus is sensible question. In essence, he asks, “How often shall I use these keys? How often shall I use this authority? How many times shall I forgive my brother, seven times?”

And Jesus responds with the parable He gives, basically saying, “You forgive as often as you need to, abundantly!”

Because – backing our way back to the beginning of the text – not to forgive is to keep a lost, little one in their sin, and that would be to cause him to stumble, and so serious is Jesus that this not happen, that He threatens His Church with the millstone around their necks, and teaches if any part of the body (the Church) causes this to happen – that is, if any person or teaching causes the Church to diminish the centrality of forgiveness – we ought to cut it off, cut them off.

When someone humbles himself and becomes a helpless child, postured before God as one in complete need of forgiveness and salvation, woe betide the church which gets in the way of Christ’s forgiveness.

And then we get the parable, concluding with, “So My heavenly Father also will do to you if each of you, from his heart, does not forgive his brother his trespasses.”

Christ’s Church, from its ministers on down, will be a place of forgiveness, and this forgiveness will spill out of the church into the hearts of its members. It cannot be any other way. The heart of the Church is forgiveness. Other parts of the body can be cut off, but cut out the heart, and the body dies. So also the Church. Members stingy with forgiveness can be removed or excommunicated, but cutting out the ministry of absolution, or the minister who forgives, or the centrality of the teaching of forgiveness, and the body dies.

The little child – childlike in faith – deserves nothing less than a place where they are completely received. It is our Lord’s will.

This again is the second sign Jesus did when He had come out of Judea into Galilee.

One of the theories of the Gospel of John is that it is divided into four parts, a prologue, the book of signs, the book of glory, and an epilogue. The book of signs is the bulk of the first half, while the book of glory is the bulk of the second half, encompassing his last supper and passion.

The book of signs has seven signs, so the theory goes, according to the seven days of creation. The resurrection, then, would be with the eighth sign, pointing forward to a new creation.

Here are the seven signs:

1. Changing water into wine
2. Healing the nobleman’s son
3. Healing of the paralytic
4. Feeding the 5,000
5. Walking on water
6. Healing of the blind man
7. Raising of Lazarus

There is no consensus about this numbering. Some argue for six signs; others couple signs together. For my money, the structure may be a bit contrived. Only two miracles are listed as actual signs, the changing of water into wine and the healing of the nobleman’s son. But looking at the actual word “sign” in the Gospel, there seem to be only six signs.

Here is a listing of the verses:

1. This beginning of signs Jesus did in Cana of Galilee, and manifested His glory; and His disciples believed in Him. (Changing water into wine.)

2. This again is the second sign Jesus did when He had come out of Judea into Galilee. (Healing of the nobleman’s son.)

3. Then a great multitude followed Him, because they saw His signs which He performed on those who were diseased. (General healing of the diseased.)

4. Then those men, when they had seen the sign that Jesus did, said, “This is truly the Prophet who is to come into the world.” (Feeding the 5,000.)

5. How can a man who is a sinner do such signs? (Healing of the blind man.)

6. For this reason the people also met Him, because they heard that He had done this sign. (Raising of Lazarus.)

Most people add the walking on water to this list, and specify the healing of the paralytic. Neither is listed as a sign. However, the general healing of the diseased is listed as “signs.”

On one hand I’m skeptical of structures imposed on the Gospel that can lead to finding things where nothing exists. On the other hand, John begins to number the “signs” but then ends after two, as if he got bored with the device, or the device could no longer contain the wonders he was testifying to. As he said at the end of the Gospel, “And truly Jesus did many other signs in the presence of His disciples, which are not written in this book; but these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in His name.”

Also, if the creation typology is driving the seven signs, they certainly don’t pair up with the days, something we’d expect John to do were he working that theme. This doesn’t take away, however, from the fact that creation theology dominates the Gospel of John. Clearly it’s a major theme. Also, there’s no doubt that there is an “eighth day typology” going on with the Gospel, that Jesus is inaugurating a new creation.

Another way to look at the issue is to list merely the miracles, the specified ones (not the general statement of Jesus healing the “diseased”), which produces the seven signs listed above.

Lots of raw data, all of it eluding an attempt to formulate it according to a structure. John begins numbering the signs, then drops the numbering, while different themes carry the freight forward. The book of Revelation runs this way too, with seven this and seven that popping up here and embedded in that. It too eludes structure.

Perhaps that’s the point, and the reason why some claim John’s is a Gnostic Gospel. Gnosticism often runs with the idea that the grace of God bursts all our attempts to formulate it. But there is a way to talk in this way without being Gnostic, as St. Paul does when he talks of the width and breadth and depth of Christ’s love and about a God who will give us exceedingly above all that we can ask for or think of.

Whatever the numbering and reasons for the miracles reported, we can most certainly settle with John’s words at the end of the Gospel, quoted above and several times with this Gospel: “these [signs] are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in His name.”

The purpose of the signs is get us to baptism, to receiving life in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and to confess the Apostles’ Creed. Whatever miracles you pick from John reveal this in some way.

The wedding at Cana, the feeding of the 5,000, and the walking on water reveal Jesus as the Christ, the Son of God. The healing of the nobleman’s son, blind man, and paralytic, and the raising of Lazarus reveal that there is life in Jesus’ name. Of course there is crossover on each of these, and subtle details to explore. These details keep us gloriously busy diving into the depths of the mystery, the glories of God’s grace.

And he himself believed, and his whole household.

This whole Gospel has been an interesting meditation on faith. We begin with a man going to Jesus begging for help, and Jesus seems to be curt with him, saying he wouldn’t believe unless he saw signs and wonders. But didn’t he just want his son healed? Perhaps it wasn’t so much the desire for healing, but the manner with which he begged, wanting Jesus to “come down” and be there. Instead of believing the word, people need to see that magic act. Perhaps that’s the point.

When Jesus says, “Your son lives,” it says the man believed Jesus’ words. His son was healed at the exact moment Jesus said those words, meaning the healing wasn’t contingent on the man’s faith. The gift, delivered by the word, created the faith. It was this faith that carried the man for what must have been a tense walk back to Capernaum, until he met the people coming from there telling him his son had become better.

As far as the son was concerned, he was healed independently of any faith on his part at all. His father, if anything, laid the groundwork for his healing, by seeking Jesus out and being willing to receive Jesus’ word by faith, even if it was a faith hampered by a desire for “signs and wonders.” Here we contemplated that faith is a communal, ecclesiastical thing. We hold each other up in the faith, all of us reacting to the great gifts Jesus promises us in different states of faith: sleeping, weak, skeptical, doubtful, lame lying on a bed, dying far away in Capernaum. Here, no evidence of the boy’s faith combined with a misdirected father’s faith conspired to receive the healing of the boy. Jesus is the same Jesus regardless of the quality of faith.

Now we come to the wonderful conclusion of the Gospel as far as faith is concerned. The father himself believed, and his whole household. Note the three developments of the man’s faith. First was the faith which saw in Jesus one who could heal his son, which led him to Jesus. This was the “signs and wonders” faith, a faith which saw Jesus purely as a possible healer the magical touch of healing. Second was the belief in Jesus’ words. Third was the belief in Jesus Himself.

On that, let’s pause for a moment. Christian faith calls for belief both in Jesus and His Word. A faith in Jesus without His Word risks becoming the projection of an antichrist. That is, Jesus becomes the projection of my personal values, desires, aspirations, and ideals. Actual external words from the Scriptures need not guide who Jesus is. I craft Jesus in my image. Such is a “faith” in Jesus outside of His word.

Meanwhile, faith in Jesus’ word without faith in Jesus turns Christianity into mere philosophy, or an ethics of love and mercy, care for the weak, and so on. “As long as you love, isn’t that what Jesus was all about? Let’s go beyond names and doctrines. What matters is what you do.” Such was the theology of the Emergent Church. Jesus becomes a cosmic pretense for loving action, or an archetype taking on different names and forms.

Faith requires both – faith in the person Jesus and faith in His words. The two cannot be separated. In the case of the nobleman, at the second level of his faith – believing Jesus’ words – he could have ended up merely realizing Jesus was a great man of God, like a prophet, someone God was using to convey grace. At the third and final level, he realized Jesus is Lord and God, that His word, “Your son lives,” isn’t a request from Jesus for God to heal, which may have some lag time between prayer and answer, but no different than the Lord God saying, “Let there be light,” and there was light. Jesus’ word does it because Jesus is God.

So, lots going on with faith! What, praytell, can we take away concerning faith? I think it’s obvious. While faith is a big theme in the Gospel, faith isn’t running the show. Jesus is running the show, and faith takes different forms as it seeks to settles around what Jesus is doing, appropriately contoured to the great gifts Jesus is giving.

Say a family is sitting in their living room watching television. Suddenly the door rings, and upon opening the door the father discovers a chest. In the chest is gold, gifts, titles to lands, the keys to a kingdom. That’s the new reality – we might say a new world – introduced into the lives of the family. How the members of the family react to that gift may take different forms. The young son may not have any understanding of what’s going on – doesn’t matter, he’s still rich. The father may regret there wasn’t more pomp and personality associated with the gift – doesn’t matter, he’s still rich. The mother may still be fretting about bills and debts – doesn’t matter, she’s still rich. As time goes on, however, the family begins to process what the new normal is. Slowly their existence will settle around the realities of the gift given, as they become appropriately contoured to the gift. The one thing which would derail this new world is if they run away from the gift, or reject it completely.

So also faith. The reality is “Your son lives.” That’s the gift given. Faith doesn’t effect that gift being given, but it takes the settles into an appropriate contouring of the gift given, and that may take time, and come in layers. Weak faith, strong faith, skeptical faith, sleeping faith, doubting faith, the gift doesn’t change relative to the faith. Of course, strong faith is the difference between walking that way to Capernaum in fear, trembling, anxiety, and sadness, thinking your son is probably close to death, or walking that way in joy and hope, knowing… “Your son lives.”

So the man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him, and he went his way. And as he was now going down, his servants met him and told him, saying, “Your son lives!” Then he inquired of them the hour when he got better. And they said to him, “Yesterday at the seventh hour the fever left him.” So the father knew that it was at the same hour in which Jesus said to him, “Your son lives.”

An additional background text from John’s Gospel is the following:

Most assuredly, I say to you, he who hears My word and believes in Him who sent Me has everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment, but has passed from death into life. Most assuredly, I say to you, the hour is coming, and now is, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God; and those who hear will live. For as the Father has life in Himself, so He has granted the Son to have life in Himself, and has given Him authority to execute judgment also, because He is the Son of Man.

Is there a tease from St. John with the “seventh hour”? On the seventh day, the Sabbath Day, our Lord descended into the realm of death and rescued those imprisoned there. He does the same thing here, in the seventh hour, “going down” to Capernaum by the Holy Spirit, that is, by His Word, declaring “Your son lives.”

As Jesus said, he who hears His word and believes in Him who send Him has everlasting life. The nobleman heard Jesus’ word and believed not only the word, but Jesus Himself. His son passed from death to life.

What’s interesting here is that the nobleman heard the word on behalf of his son, and far away, the word carried Jesus’ authority for the boy. The father believed for the son, and the son lived.

Faith is communal. It just is. The father believes the word, and the boy lives, and then the whole household believes in Jesus. It’s similar to when the men brought the lame man to Jesus, and it is written, “When Jesus saw their faith, He said to him….” Jesus saw the faith of the men carrying the lame man, but then said to the lame man, “Your sins are forgiven you.” On the basis of the faith of others, Jesus directs his grace to the one.

It’s not that individuals aren’t responsible for their faith. It’s that faith is communal, or ecclesiastical. The faith is objective, the possession of the community. As the Lord is enthroned in the praises of Israel, the Lord’s grace is communicated to the community as a group. It’s not that individuals “do” the faith; rather it’s that the ecclesiastical faith does individuals. Individuals may be sleeping, weak, skeptical, doubtful, lame lying on beds, or dying far away, but the faith of the Church sustains them. We pray, after all, “Our Father,” not “My Father.”

The problem with praying to saints has never been a denial that the saints are praying for us. They absolutely are. The question is whether the Bible gives evidence that the saints hear us praying for them, or commands us to pray to them. If the Bible gives any guidance, it’s that the saints pray for us without regard to whether we ask them! The lame man and the dying son didn’t need to entreat their friends or father; they did it on their own.

Jesus hears the prayers of His Church praying in His name, and as He promises, “whatever you ask the Father in My name He will give you.” He’s not talking about Cadillacs or cash – such things are transient and actually do not have existence from the eternal perspective. Rather, we pray for the Holy Spirit, Whom Jesus sends from the Father to give to us by His Word what He Himself possesses. The main and simplest thing Jesus possesses is eternal life.

So, when the nobleman begs Jesus for life, Jesus cannot deny who He is. He sends His Word by the Holy Spirit to deliver that life to the boy, and the boy lives, just as Jesus said.

And that is the judgment. Jesus grants life to them that believe in Him. Meanwhile, for those who reject Him, the very word He has spoken will be their judge on the last day. Faith is the dividing line between those judged to life and those judged to death.

Sometimes, as in the case of the boy, the faith comes later after the gift. The boy’s father believed, the son lived, and then the whole household believed in Jesus. It’s not so much that the faith came after the gift, but the gift itself established the contours of the faith which received. Did the boy know his father was going to Jesus? Maybe, maybe not. Whatever the case, upon getting healed he knew life, and from that point on he grew in that life.

Very similar to how children are baptized and grow in that gift they receive.