It’s a universally good feeling to be forgiven. We’ve all been there: that pit-in-your-stomach dread after you’ve messed up, the fear that a relationship might be over. But then you take that deep breath, make the call, own your mistake, and ask, “Will you please forgive me?” The moment hangs in the air, seemingly forever, until that sweet release: “Of course, I forgive you.” What an unbelievable feeling!

But here’s the flip side: How many of us genuinely like to forgive? Not many. We love to be forgiven, but we don’t necessarily like to give forgiveness. This often comes up in conversations among Christians, where the immediate reaction is, “If we just forgive people, we’ll become doormats!” Or, “Where’s the justice in that? These people wronged us; they need to be held accountable!” We invent all sorts of reasons to avoid forgiving, clinging to our grudges, even as we crave the grace of being forgiven ourselves.

This leads to the question: Why do we love to be forgiven but dislike forgiving? I believe the root of it is a fundamental misunderstanding of grace.

The God of Forgiveness

There’s a popular misconception that the God of the Old Testament was angry and judgmental, while the God of the New Testament is loving and gentle. This paints a picture of two different deities. But this isn’t what the Old Testament portrays. Consider Psalm 130:

“Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord; Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy. If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you. I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope. I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning. Israel, put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption. He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins.”

This psalm makes it clear: If God held our sins against us, none of us could stand. We are all imperfect. Yet, the Psalmist declares, “With you, God, there is forgiveness,” rooted in His unfailing love. The God of the Old Testament is consistently portrayed as slow to anger, abounding in love, mercy, and compassion—a God who redeems and forgives, knowing His people will fall short. His nature is consistent from beginning to end: a God of grace, mercy, compassion, and forgiveness.

Even before Jesus walked the earth, the Psalmist expressed absolute confidence in God’s redemptive power: “He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins.” There’s no “if, ands, or buts.” It’s a certainty, rooted in His unfailing love. The popular notion of an angry, spiteful Old Testament God is a myth. Psalm 130 reveals the truth: an unfailing love, a willingness to redeem, and abundant forgiveness.

Forgiveness in the Gospels

The Gospel of Luke, in particular, is rich with the theme of forgiveness. Luke, being a physician, focused on healing—and forgiveness heals our souls and relationships. That’s why you see forgiveness woven throughout his Gospel, and in his second book, Acts, you see the transformative power of a forgiven people spreading grace and mercy like wildfire. This is all thanks to Jesus, who demonstrated ultimate love and forgiveness through His self-sacrifice.

Luke Chapter 15 contains three parables: the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son (often called the Prodigal Son). What’s crucial to understand is that these parables aren’t primarily about the lost item or person; they’re about the searcher. It’s the shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine for the one, the woman who diligently searches for her lost coin, and the father who waits at the end of the road for his son to return.

The context of these parables is vital. Jesus is surrounded by tax collectors and sinners, while the Pharisees and teachers of the law—the “religious folks”—mutter in disgust: “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” They’re sour-faced, arms crossed, whispering, “Can you believe it?” This is the audience Jesus addresses with these stories.

The Prodigal Son: A Deeper Look

In the parable of the lost son, the younger son demands his share of the estate, essentially telling his father, “You’re dead to me. Give me my inheritance; I’m leaving.” This isn’t a polite financial request; it’s a severing of the relationship. Yet, with unbelievable grace, the father divides his property. If we were counseling this father, we might advise a tougher stance. But this father’s overwhelming grace is astounding.

The son squanders his wealth, ends up feeding pigs (an abhorrent task for a Jew), and longs to eat their food. He comes to his senses and decides to return, planning to say, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.” Is he genuinely repentant, or manipulative? The text is ambiguous.

But while the son is still a long way off, his father sees him. How? Only if the father was constantly searching, scanning the horizon for his son’s return. The father runs to him, embraces him, and kisses him before the son even finishes his rehearsed speech. The father doesn’t even respond to the son’s plea; he immediately calls for a celebration: “My son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”

The father’s grace never stops. His forgiveness is always present, always flowing.

The Older Brother: The Reluctance to Forgive

The older brother, however, is out in the field, working. When he hears music and dancing, he learns his brother has returned and his father is celebrating. He becomes angry and refuses to go in. When the father pleads with him, the older brother complains: “All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders, yet you never gave me a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!”

The older brother feels cheated. He fails to understand that the father had already given him everything: “My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.” The older brother’s focus is on what he deserves because of his “good” behavior. He sees life as a transaction. He doesn’t want to forgive because, in his mind, the younger brother doesn’t deserve it. Forgiveness, in his view, undermines justice.

But this is not how forgiveness works. For-giveness is freely offered. It’s amazing grace rooted in the father’s boundless love. The younger son had nothing to offer for that forgiveness; there was no transaction. It was overwhelming, undeserved grace.

Repentance and Restoration

Forgiveness is connected to repentance, which simply means a change of direction. The younger son changed course, turning 180 degrees back to his father. The father was ready to receive him because forgiveness is not transactional; it’s about renewing and restoring relationships. It’s not merely a legal declaration of “debt paid.” The lost coin is restored to the woman, the lost sheep to the herd, and the lost son to his loving father.

Jesus is speaking directly to the Pharisees and teachers of the law (the older brother) and the tax collectors and sinners (the younger son). Many of us, as “good religious people,” are often like the older brother. We struggle with the idea that “really bad people” also receive forgiveness. We might think, “They haven’t changed enough,” or “They don’t deserve it.” We have our own “that group of people” in our minds—those we deem unforgivable.

But if we are truly to understand and receive our own forgiveness, we must become a people who extend it. We know the grace and forgiveness we have received, yet we quickly become the older brother, forgetting the very nature of our forgiving God.

A Challenge for This Week

This week, reflect on the forgiveness you have received. Let your heart be deeply moved by the boundless grace extended to you by a God of unfailing love, a God with whom there is forgiveness, a God who will redeem and restore you.

Then, wrestle with this question: Who, in your mind, absolutely cannot be forgiven? Who hasn’t earned it, doesn’t deserve it, or is beyond God’s love?

It’s a challenging introspection, and often, we find ourselves mirroring the older brother, quickly forgetting the very nature of our forgiving God.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, we thank you for your grace and forgiveness—a forgiveness that is not a simple transaction, not merely an accounting of debts, but a complete restoration of relationship. Father, help us to be moved by the overwhelming sense of your grace and mercy through forgiveness so that, unlike the older brother, we might run into the party to celebrate our younger brother who was dead and is now alive. In Jesus' name we pray, Amen.

Would you like to listen to this sermon? Here’s the link: Whispers of Grace - Forgiveness (Luke-Acts)