Matthew 18:21-22 – Then Peter came up and said to him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times.”
We weren’t trying to be extravagant. We just wanted to build a simple life together. So there we were, walking hand in hand through aisles of home goods, scanning dish towels and cutting boards, picturing a quiet little future—dinner at our own table, slow mornings, a couch we could call ours.
The joy was real. But I wasn’t prepared for what it would feel like to be given so much.
When the showers came, the gifts piled up faster than we could open them. We unwrapped things we had picked out together—yes—but each one felt different when it was placed in our hands by people who cared about us. I felt overwhelmed, honestly. Undeserving. These weren’t things we earned. They were acts of kindness. Unmerited gifts. And they taught me something before we ever used a single one.
Now, a few years in, marriage feels less like a gift registry and more like a full-time lesson in patience. Bills arrive. Communication gets messy. Some weekends feel more like negotiations than rest. And it turns out, even when you love someone deeply, forgiveness does not always come naturally.
But that’s what makes grace so powerful—it is still undeserved.
Two years into marriage, I still think about those boxes. We use the dishes. We burn the candle someone gave us. And we’ve also had the hard talks. The moments when we don’t see eye to eye. The ones where forgiveness is not easy or quick. It can feel easier to hold onto frustration than to lay it down.
But then I remember: someone once gave me something I didn’t deserve. And that someone else—Jesus— paid the ultimate price for me to receive it. Unmerited forgiveness.
That’s what forgiveness is. A gift. Not cheap, not convenient, and certainly not deserved. But freely given. And when I think about how deeply I’ve been forgiven, it softens something in me. It helps me step toward love again, even when pride wants to stay put.
You have the power to give someone what they didn’t earn—just like it was given to you. Grace does not ignore the hurt; it just refuses to be defined by it. What might happen if you gave that kind of love today?
70 X 7 by CHRIS AUGUST | Listen Now
[Verse 1]
I’ve been living in this house here
Since the day that I was born
These walls have seen me happy
But most of all they’ve seen me torn
They’ve heard the screaming matches
That made a family fall apart
They’ve had a front row seat
To the breaking of my heart
[Chorus 1]
Seven times, seventy times
I’ll do what it takes to make it right
I thought the pain was here to stay
But forgiveness made a way
Seven times, seventy times
There’s healing in the air tonight
I’m reaching up to pull it down
Gonna wrap it all around
[Verse 2]
I remember running down the hallway
Playin’ hide and seek
I didn’t know that I was searching
For someone to notice me
I felt alone and undiscovered
And old enough to understand
Just when I’m supposed to be learning to love
You let me down again
[Chorus 1]
Seven times, seventy times
I’ll do what it takes to make it right
I thought the pain was here to stay
But forgiveness made a way
Seven times, seventy times
There’s healing in the air tonight
I’m reaching up to pull it down
Gonna wrap it all around
[Bridge]
I lost count of the ways you let me down
But no matter how many times
You weren’t around
I’m alright now
God picked up my heart and helped me through
And shined a light on the one thing left to do
And that’s forgive you
I forgive you
[Interlude]
Seven times, seventy times
If that’s the cost, I’ll pay the price
[Chorus 2]
Seven times, seventy times
I’ll do what it takes to make it right
I thought the pain was here to stay
But forgiveness made a way
Seven times, seventy times
There’s healing in this house tonight
I’m reaching up to pull it down
Gonna wrap it all around
Yeah, I’m gonna wrap it all around
[Outro]
I’ve been living in this house here
Since the day that I was born
Writers: Ed Cash, Chris August