Someone hurt me badly. They don't deserve forgiveness.

Forgiveness stalls on the sense that it would let someone off. It was never a verdict on them. The number given was deliberately past counting, because the thing being described is not a single decision but a door you keep choosing to leave open — and the debt already cancelled behind you was larger.

The conversation

The child: “Daddy God, someone hurt me badly. They don't deserve forgiveness.”

God: “You're right. They don't. Forgiveness was never about deserving.”

The child: “Peter offered seven times.”

God: “'I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.'”

God: “Then He told of a king who forgave a debt that could never be repaid.”

The child: “Are You saying I'm the servant?”

God: “I'm saying you've been forgiven a debt you could never repay.”

God: “Forgiving doesn't mean it was okay. It doesn't mean trusting them again.”

The child: “What if the anger comes back?”

God: “Then you forgive again. That's why He said seventy times seven.”

The child: “I don't think I can do it alone.”

God: “You can't. That's the point. Say 'I can't — but I'm willing.'”

The child: “I'm opening the door. I don't feel it yet.”

God: “Choosing it is the strongest kind.”

"Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven." Matthew 18:22, KJV

Questions people ask