He was catching fish as fast as he could get his hook back in the water. There had only been few times when this had happened and this was the best one ever. These bass were almost jumping into the live-well of the boat. Glancing at his watch, he told himself he was going to be a little-bit late getting home tonight, but there was no way he going to leave right now, no, he wasn’t leaving at all; he would stay here all night as long as the bass were biting like this and especially since they were huge. Just wait until his neighbor, “Bass-Boat-Bill” gets a look at these big boys. Then they finally stopped biting.
When he was backing his truck and trailer into the water at the boat ramp, he glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. I am a dead man, a goner, a couch sleeper, a no dinner tonight idiot. I can just hear her now. No, I can just see her now, pacing back and forth through the house, talking to herself about another one of my lies about getting home on time. I was supposed to take her to the forth of July dinner and fireworks display at the park. However, he now knew he wasn’t going to need to go to the park to see the fireworks—not only was he going to see the sparks and flares, he, himself was going to be the Grand Finale; he was going to hear every exploding word. Every pop and bang word of, “You said you would never do it again,” you’ve lied to me for the last time “Mister Clownfish.”
He almost forgot to strap the boat to the trailer and actually felt chilly in the warm July evening air as he thought about messing up again. He wasn’t afraid of his wife; she was a beautiful Christian woman. Outside of Jesus Christ, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. However, what was he going to say? What was his excuse going to be this time? How could he have let her down again? He’d promised her the last time it happened, that it would never happen again. Nevertheless, he was three hours late. He had lied to the woman he loved because of a string of large mouth bass.
He had to come up with an answer, it had to be a brilliant plan—he would say he had trouble with the boat motor and had left his cell phone in the truck so there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He was pulling into the driveway feeling secure and heartsick at the same time when he realized he had already done enough damage. Why do more harm, just tell her the truth.
He didn’t even back the boat and trailer into the garage; he just went into the house, walked up to his wife, put his arms around her and said, “I’m sorry honey, I told you I wouldn’t do it again, but I’ve failed you again—will you please forgive me again? Her words came out like a symphony as she said, “Of course, I forgive you. Because you asked for forgiveness, you are completely forgiven.
He just stood there, speechless, not knowing what to say or what to do. How could this be happening? Then she reminded him, “Honey, the last time you did this, you asked me to forgive you, and I really did; I gave you all the forgiveness you asked for, so this makes today the first time this has ever happened.”
What would any of us do if we went to Jesus and asked forgiveness for something we had done before and He said, “No—No, I won’t forgive you?” What would we do if He said, “It’s because I never actually forgave you the last time, so how can I forgive you for something I didn’t really forgive you for before? I’m still harboring some un-forgiveness.” Aren’t we glad this has never happened? Aren’t we glad this will never happen?
1 John 1:9 “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
She put her arms around her husband’s neck and said, “I’ll always love you with a never ending love.” Then she told him, Honey, Bass-Boat-Bill just drove up, so go brag on your fish.
Matthew 18:21-23
“Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.”
Pastor Hal Steenson
Hal Steenson 