Forgiveness and the Love That Protects

A Question from the Heart

Peter comes to Jesus today with a question many of us have asked in one form or another: “How often must I forgive?” Perhaps behind his question is a real hurt, a difficult relationship, or someone who keeps doing the same thing. Peter wants a number. He wants to know when he has done enough.

He suggests seven times. That sounds generous. But Jesus answers, “Not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” In other words, forgiveness is not something we keep in a little account book. God does not count out mercy to us, and Jesus asks us not to live with a calculator in our hearts.

That is beautiful, but it is not easy. When the hurt is deep, forgiveness can take a long time. It may begin not with warm feelings, but with a small prayer: “Lord, I do not know how to forgive this. Please begin the work in me.” Sometimes that is all we can honestly pray, and God can work with honesty.

Love Protects

Today is also Safeguarding Sunday, and the theme is simple: “Love Protects.” Those two words belong together. If we love someone, we want them to be safe. We listen. We notice. We take concerns seriously. We do not look away because the truth is awkward or painful.

This is especially important when we speak about forgiveness. Today’s Gospel must never be used to tell someone who has been harmed, “You just have to forgive and move on.” Jesus is not asking victims to pretend that nothing happened. Forgiveness is not forgetting. It is not silence. It does not remove the need for truth, justice, accountability, or appropriate consequences.

Mercy That Reaches the Heart

The servant in Jesus’ parable is forgiven an enormous debt, but he refuses even a little mercy to another. The tragedy is that the mercy he received never reached his heart. He walked out of the master’s presence unchanged.

Jesus is inviting us to let God’s mercy travel from our heads to our hearts. We all stand before God with empty hands. Everything is gift: our life, our faith, every new beginning, every chance to start again. When we remember how patiently God deals with us, we can become more patient with one another.

But God’s mercy is never careless. The Lord sees the wound as well as the sin. He draws close to the person who is hurting. He protects the vulnerable and calls wrongdoing by its name. Mercy and justice are not enemies; they belong together in the healing work of God.

What Protective Love Looks Like

So, what does “love protects” look like in an ordinary parish? It may look very simple. It is learning the names of our children and making sure they know the trusted adults around them. It is listening carefully when a child or vulnerable person says that something does not feel right. It is following our safeguarding practices, even when they feel inconvenient, because love does not leave safety to chance.

It also means noticing the older parishioner who has not been at Mass for a few weeks, the person living alone, the family under pressure, or the person quietly struggling with mental health. Safeguarding is not merely paperwork. It is the daily habit of seeing people, listening to them, and making room for their voice.

And when someone raises a concern, love does not rush to defend a reputation. Love first asks, “Are you safe? How can we help?” A healthy parish is not one where no one ever speaks about difficult things. It is a parish where people know they can speak, where they will be heard, and where concerns will be handled properly.

Saint Paul tells us that love is patient and kind, and that love always protects. Protective love is not suspicious or fearful. It is simply awake. It has its eyes open. It is gentle enough to listen and courageous enough to act.

One Small Step

Perhaps there is someone we need to forgive. Perhaps there is a relationship in which we need clearer boundaries. Perhaps there is someone vulnerable whom we have not noticed. Today the Lord may be inviting each of us to take one small step: to pray, to listen, to speak, to seek help, or to offer compassion.

We do not do this alone. The same God who is “slow to anger and rich in compassion” walks with us. The Lord does not rush the work of healing. He stays close, patiently restoring what has been wounded and teaching us how to love with wisdom.

May our parish be a home where mercy is real, truth is welcomed, and every person—especially every child, young person, older person, and vulnerable person—knows that they are seen, heard, valued, and safe.

Because this is what the love of Christ looks like among us: a love that forgives, a love that heals, and a love that protects.

Amen.