If the point of this parable is not about the mechanisms of forgiveness, what if the point is about the conditions of forgiveness? And by that I don’t mean conditional forgiveness. I mean forgiveness as a way of life — as something we cultivate the conditions for, with God’s help.

What does mutual forbearance look like for a person of faith today living in a deeply polarized country; in a culture that would rather cancel than communicate, where relationships seem disposable the moment conflict arises, when it is difficult to see that those who do things we abhor are also made in the image of God?

This is our twelfth national park on our summer-long road trip, and looking back, I think at least half of them taught us a thing or two about what it means to be interconnected. The Great Smoky Mountains are no different.

Sin is not just action, or inaction; it is a state of being, one we cannot escape, from which none of us are immune. Have mercy on us all, O God. But if we look at [Psalm 51] more closely, we realize that it is not just about sin.

God gives Moses God’s personal name, but it remains elusive, unpronounceable, and lacking precise translation. Whether by design or by accident, the name in fact tells Moses almost nothing. *Almost*⁠ nothing.

Perhaps the moral of the story isn’t about seeking to serve in order to become righteous, to receive good things. Perhaps it reminds us that simply by living, we have countless, even daily opportunities to care for others - and be cared for, too.

When we learn from our experiences - including our mistakes - we become wise.

“Peace” does not mean all will go easily for the disciples — or us — in the wake of Jesus’s death. “Peace” is not a false promise of security or a guaranteed end to all conflict. “Peace” is instead the deep essence of Jesus and his life, his love, and his joy.