Jesus Said to Forgive 77 Times. So… What’s the Cap?
☁️ The First Fluff
“Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, ‘Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?’ Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.’”
— Matthew 18:21–22
Jesus said to forgive 77 times.
And I’m just wondering…
Is that 77 per person? Per offence? Per financial year?
Asking for a friend. (The friend is me.)
Because I’m not trying to be petty here — I want to be Christlike. But sometimes I find myself thinking, “Surely I’ve hit the limit by now?”
Like, “Sorry God, I’m out of swipes on this one.”
🥲 When Saying “It’s Okay” Isn’t Actually Okay
Here’s the thing. Forgiveness sounds really spiritual until you’re forced to do it in real life — like mid-dinner, mid-conflict, mid-family-event-where-no-one-else-seems-to-notice-you’re-bleeding-internally.
There have been so many moments where I’ve said “it’s okay” purely because I didn’t know what else to say.
Not because I meant it. Not because I had peace. But because… starting a confrontation in front of the steamed chicken felt like too much.
And especially when the person hurting you is someone you can’t easily remove —
A family member who says things that aren’t just “old-school” — they’re Olympic-level rude.
And everyone around you is like, “Don’t take it personally, that’s just how they are.”
Which is rich, because I am also how I am, and apparently that gets critiqued on a regular basis.
So you smile. You nod. You pretend your silence is maturity, when really, it’s just exhaustion.
🍽️ Forgiveness in the Group Chat Economy
And that would’ve been fine — if it stayed in the family dinner zone.
But then it started creeping into my friendships. The “forgive and move on” reflex that kicked in every time someone did something mildly disrespectful, and I didn’t have the energy to “make it a thing.”
Like when someone keeps forgetting to pay you back for meals.
At first, it’s small. Then it adds up. And suddenly, you’re lying awake at night calculating a moral spreadsheet in your head while convincing yourself,
“Let it go. It’s just money. Jesus would let it go.”
“Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”
— Colossians 3:13
The thing is — I wasn’t letting it go. I was stuffing it down, calling it grace, and hoping no one noticed my emotional eye twitch.
And that kind of forgiveness?
It doesn’t free you.
It just turns into low-grade bitterness disguised as spiritual maturity.
😤 I Tried to Forgive. And Then I Spiral-Called My Mum.
I wish I could say it stopped with petty group chat debts.
But it didn’t.
Because eventually, I landed in a situation where the stakes were higher. A work project I’d poured my soul into got… taken.
Like, name-erased, credit-gone, “Thanks, I’ll take it from here” taken.
And the person who did it? My boss.
“Do not repay anyone evil for evil… Do not take revenge, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord.”
— Romans 12:17–19
I was livid. I went home. I called my mum and spilled the whole tea — the theatrics, the drama, my anger, my sadness.
Her reply?
“What would Jesus do? You should pray for her.”
And sure. I know the right answer. Jesus would forgive.
But He also flipped tables and vanished from crowds. So there’s precedent for at least a dramatic sigh and temporary blocking.
🪩 Forgiveness ≠ Reset
And somewhere along the way, forgiveness started to feel like this unspoken contract:
If you truly forgive, you must also reconcile.
You must forget. You must pretend it never happened. You must hand them a second chance wrapped in ribbon with a complimentary coffee catch-up invite.
Except — NO.
Forgiveness isn’t a magical reset button that rewinds time and erases hurt.
It’s choosing to heal without dragging them into the healing process — because, frankly, they’ve done enough.
Sometimes the most Jesus-like thing you can do is forgive and walk away like you’ve got 12 disciples and a Galilean coastline to get back to.
And it’s definitely not a spiritual loophole that lets people keep hurting you while you say,
“It’s okay, I’m fine, I’m just trying to be holy.”
“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”
— Proverbs 4:23
The truth?
Forgiveness is between me and God.
Reconciliation is between me and someone who’s shown they’ve changed.
And if they haven’t? Then “moving on” might mean moving away.
😅 I'm Trying, God. I Really Am.
So here I am. Somewhere between “I forgive them” and “But also, I’m still kind of mad.”
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18
I think God sees that.
I think He knows when our forgiveness is messy, hesitant, half-hearted, tear-stained.
He doesn’t ask us to pretend it didn’t hurt.
He just asks us to bring the hurt to Him instead of letting it rot inside us.
Some days, I pray for the person.
Some days, I pray to not dream about the argument.
Some days, the best I can do is:
“God, I’m trying not to wish they stub their toe. Progress?”
“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.”
— Psalm 51:10
And I think — maybe — that’s still counted as faith.
☁️ The First Fluff
✔ Forgiveness is holy. But it’s not always tidy.
✔ You can let go of bitterness without inviting the person back into your life.
✔ Boundaries are not unforgiving. They’re wise.
✔ And if your prayer today is:
“Lord, I’m trying” —
Then you’re already doing better than you think.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.”
— Matthew 5:7
