The War We Fight Against Ourselves

In 1958, China declared war on an unexpected enemy: sparrows. Chairman Mao mobilized 630 million citizens—soldiers, workers, and schoolchildren alike—to eliminate these small birds that were eating precious grain. The campaign was ruthlessly effective. Within two years, the sparrow population had been nearly wiped out.

Victory celebrations were short-lived. Scientists soon discovered that sparrows didn't just eat grain—they also consumed massive quantities of locusts and other agricultural pests. With the sparrows gone, the locust population exploded. The resulting famine killed an estimated 30 to 45 million people between 1959 and 1961.

China thought they were protecting their future. Instead, in trying to destroy what they believed was the problem, they unleashed something far more destructive on themselves.

This tragic historical event provides a powerful picture of what happens in our own hearts when we've been wounded.

When Hurt Turns to War

When someone lies to us, betrays us, rejects us, or walks out on us, something rises up inside that says, "I've got to protect myself. I've got to make sure this never happens again." So we go to war.

We go to war with anger, distance, and silence. We go to war with resentment and scorekeeping. We replay what they said and rehearse what we wish we would have said back.

At first, it feels powerful. It feels like control. It feels like justice.

But what if the war we think is protecting us is actually destroying us? What if we think we're fighting them, but unforgiveness is actually fighting us?

That's the war within.

Peter's Question

This internal battle is exactly what Jesus addressed in Matthew 18. After teaching about unity and God's movement in our lives, Peter asked a pointed question: "Lord, how often should I forgive someone who sins against me? Seven times?"

Peter wasn't asking a hypothetical question. He was eyeballing someone who had just ticked him off, essentially asking, "How many times do I have to let this go?"

In Peter's day, rabbis suggested forgiving someone three times was sufficient. By the fourth offense, you were off the hook. So Peter's offer of seven times would have seemed extraordinarily generous—perhaps even a bit of spiritual bragging.

Jesus's response must have stunned him: "No, not seven times, but seventy times seven."

Jesus wasn't suggesting we keep count until someone hits 490 offenses. He was giving a ridiculously amplified number to communicate that maintaining our connection to God requires continual forgiveness.

The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant

To drive the point home, Jesus told a story about a king settling accounts with his servants. One man owed an impossible debt—the modern equivalent of millions of dollars. Unable to pay, the king ordered the man, his wife, his children, and everything he owned to be sold.

The man fell to his knees begging for more time, promising to repay everything. Moved with pity, the king did more than grant an extension—he forgave the entire debt and released him.

But as the forgiven man left the king's presence, he encountered someone who owed him a comparatively tiny amount—a few thousand dollars. When this debtor begged for patience, using nearly identical words the first man had used with the king, the forgiven servant refused. He had the man thrown into prison.

When the king heard what happened, he was furious. He had the unforgiving servant arrested and tortured until he could pay back his original debt.

Reading this story, our natural reaction is outrage. What a terrible person! How could someone who received such mercy show such little compassion?

But then Jesus delivers his chilling conclusion: "This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother from your heart."

The Uncomfortable Truth

We're all about forgiveness when it comes to God forgiving us. We're even fine forgiving ordinary pains. But when we start talking about life-altering, stress-inducing, therapy-necessitating pain, it becomes exponentially harder.

Consider the Lord's Prayer: "Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us."

We treat this like a religious poem, but this section is actually opting into a contract. We're asking God to hold us to the same standard of mercy we hold for the person who hurt us most.

Do you really want God to forgive you the way you forgave your ex-spouse? That family member who betrayed you? That boss who wronged you?

The sobering reality is this: **I cannot receive what I will not give.**

When we refuse to forgive, we don't just poison ourselves with bitterness—we shut the door to God's forgiveness toward us. We make ourselves an enemy of God by making an enemy out of our neighbor.

Forgiveness Is a Gift to Yourself

Here's the liberating truth: **Forgiveness isn't for them. It's for you.**

Unaddressed wounds get infected. You might have been innocent when the wrong was done, but you can become guilty in the way you handle it.

Ephesians 4:26 says, "Be angry and do not sin." This isn't a contradiction. It's fine to have feelings of anger—even Jesus experienced anger at injustice. But don't let those feelings cause you to sin. Don't retaliate or seek revenge. Don't even let your anger last until the end of the day, because as you dwell on it, you open the door for it to control you.

When you don't forgive, you violate yourself even after your violator is gone. You're reliving the same pain over and over. Your relationships can't move forward because you're treating who is present based on who was in your past. You're killing current relationships by choking them with old grievances.

It's like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.

The Path Forward

Forgiveness and reconciliation are two different things. Forgiveness is something that can happen right now between you and God. Reconciliation might take a lifetime—or might never be safe to happen at all. The call to forgiveness is not a command to invite further abuse.

The path to freedom begins with prayer. Even when you don't feel like it, pray for God to work in the life of the person who hurt you. Each time anger rises, deliberately place that person in God's hands. They may never apologize. There may never be resolution in the way you want. But when you release them to God, you can live out who He's called you to be instead of remaining victimized by memory.

Consider this: On the cross, with a sponge used for cleaning toilets pressed to His lips, tasting vinegar and filth, Jesus said, "Forgive them."

If He could forgive from that place, perhaps we can find the strength to release our grip on the grievances we carry.

Who is the person you've been trying to eliminate with your anger? That's your sparrow. And like China's war on birds, your war on them might be destroying you far more than it's hurting them.

The question isn't whether they deserve forgiveness. The question is whether you deserve freedom.