I invite you to turn in your Bibles to Matthew 18.
Forgive and forget.
Let bygones be bygones.
That’s all water under the bridge.
Time heals all wounds (or maybe it’s “time wounds all heels.” I can never remember which).
Have you ever had someone say one of those things to you?
Or how about this one: “Bury the hatchet.”
That phrase always struck me as strange—because when I was at my angriest, I knew exactly where I wanted to bury the hatchet. And I’m pretty sure that’s not what the person meant.
That saying actually comes from a peace ritual practiced by some Native American tribes. When fighting tribes decided to end hostilities, they would bury their weapons as a public signal that the fighting was over—not pretending the conflict never happened, but choosing not to keep living by the weapon.
It sounds good. It really does.
But here’s the problem with burying the hatchet: when the old anger flares back up, we’re surprisingly good at digging it up again.
Maybe we should have buried the shovel too.
We are in the second week of our series God Never Said That, where we’re looking at phrases that sound biblical, feel spiritual, and get repeated often—but aren’t actually found in Scripture.
And some of you might be surprised to learn that Jesus never said, “forgive and forget.” Because it sounds like something He would say.
After all, doesn’t Hebrews 8:12 say that God will “forgive our iniquities and remember our sins no more”? Doesn’t Psalms 103 say that as far as the east is from the west, that’s how far God removes our transgressions from us? And doesn’t Micah 7:19 say that He casts our sins into the depths of the sea?
So… forgive and forget, right?
Not quite.
Because those verses are not describing divine amnesia—they are describing divine mercy. When Scripture says God “remembers” our sins no more, it means He no longer holds them against us. He does not resurrect them. He does not weaponize them. They are dealt with—fully and finally.
And here’s the crucial difference: Scripture never asks us to forget the way God forgives. It asks us to forgive the way God remembers.
So this morning, I want to show you that not only is “forgive and forget” not in the Bible—
it isn’t possible,
it isn’t redemptive,
and most importantly, it isn’t the gospel.
Let’s read together the clearest instructions Jesus gives us about forgiveness and conflict. This is Matthew 18, beginning in verse 15. And as we read, notice that “forgive and forget” isn’t anywhere in Jesus’ teaching on how broken relationships are healed.
READ MATTHEW 18:15-17
This is the word of the Lord. Thanks be to God. Let’s pray.
Point 1: Forgive and Forget Isn’t Possible
Before we talk about anything else, we need to start here—with something very basic and very honest.
It isn’t possible .
That’s not how God made us. It might work for childhood arguments, like whose turn it is on the swings, but when you are talking about real brokenness in relationships, we aren’t wired to forget.
Scripture tells us in Ecclesiastes 3:11 that God has “set eternity in the human heart.” That tells us something profound. We are not temporary creatures. We are made for eternity. Joys, losses, wounds, betrayals—they don’t simply evaporate on command.
The Bible never speaks to us as if forgetting is a switch we can flip. It speaks to us as people who remember deeply.
And the New Testament is just as honest about that reality. In Romans 12:18, Paul says, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”
Do you hear the grace? Paul is acknowledging that it isn’t always possible, and it doesn’t always depend on you.
Scripture acknowledges limits. Some wounds don’t resolve neatly.
And that matters, because some of you have carried guilt you were never meant to carry. You’ve thought, “If I still remember it, maybe I haven’t really forgiven.” But remembering is not failure. Remembering is human.
• In Genesis, Joseph forgives his brothers—but he never forgets what they did.
• David forgives Saul—but he never pretends Saul is safe.
• And even Jesus, risen in glory, still bears the scars of the cross.
So when someone tells you to “forgive and forget,” the problem isn’t just that it’s unbiblical. The problem is that it asks you to become something other than human. It asks you to erase what God never designed you to erase.
The issue, then, is not whether we remember.
The real question is what we do with what we remember.
And that’s where Jesus leads us with our Scripture passage.
Point 2: Forgive and Forget Isn’t Redemptive
Before we walk through what Jesus says here, I need to explain what I mean when I say “forgive and forget” isn’t redemptive.
The Bible is always moving toward redemption. It heals. It restores. It reconciles when possible. It brings what is broken back into the light so it can be made whole again. Scripture is never satisfied with silence if silence allows sin to stay hidden.
That’s why phrases like “Let’s just forget about it” sound peaceful, but don’t actually move people toward healing. “Let’s not talk about this anymore” doesn’t build a bridge—it builds a wall. It may stop the conflict, but it also stops the possibility of repentance, restoration, and real reconciliation.
Redemption isn’t accomplished by pretending the offense never happened.
It is accomplished when we care enough to confront.
It is accomplished when we speak the truth in love.
And that’s exactly why, when Jesus teaches us how to respond to sin, He doesn’t give us a slogan. He gives us a process. Let’s look closely at Matthew 18 and see the steps Jesus lays out.
Step One: Name the sin. Verse 15 says If your brother sins against you.
This is important because it forces you to settle in your own mind whether this is a disagreement, or is this a sin.
People are going to disagree. You are going to have people in your life that have different opinions. Different personalities. Different worldviews. None of those rise to the level of Matthew 18. If you realize that what’s bothering you isn’t actually a sin, then you may decide you don’t need to confront after all. Proverbs 19:11 says “Good sense makes one slow to anger, and it is his glory to overlook an offense.”
So the first thing to ask yourself is, what is the sin I am confronting? Is it gossip? Is it slander? Is it falsehood? Is it a lack of respect or civility? Did they take something from you? Break a promise to you? Put you in danger in some way? Name the sin.
And once you have determined what the sin is that you are confronting, the next step is to speak the truth to the person. Go and tell him his fault. One on one. Face to face. Not by text. Not by a third party. Not as a prayer request in your small group. And absolutely not as a social media post.
Notice Jesus states the goal: If he listens, you have won your brother over. The win isn’t to shame, or vent, or get something off your chest. You aren’t trying to win an argument. You are trying to win your brother.
And you have a much better chance of winning your brother or sister if you are approaching them with humility.
Using “I feel” language instead of “You are” language.
Focusing on observations instead of conclusions.
Speak the truth with clarity, because clarity is kindness.
But also speak the truth with restraint. This isn’t about unloading anger. It’s about opening a door. It’s about saying, “This mattered. This caused harm. And I’m coming to you first because redemption is still possible.”
Now, in a perfect world, verse 15 would be the end of it. You name the sin, you speak truth, and you win your brother.
But, verses 16-17 are there because we don’t live in a perfect world. So step 3 is to create accountability.
Jesus says, “If he does not listen, take one or two others along with you, that every charge may be established by the evidence of two or three witnesses.”
Notice the order. Jesus doesn’t say, ‘Go find allies.’ He says, ‘Go to your brother.’ Other people enter the picture only when private truth-telling hasn’t led to resolution.
This step is not about ganging up on someone. It’s not about escalating conflict out of frustration. It’s about bringing clarity, wisdom, and shared discernment into the situation.
Accountability exists because forgetting isn’t the goal. If forgetting were the goal, witnesses would be unnecessary. Redemption is the goal.
These two or three witnesses serve a few important purposes. They help confirm the facts. They help ensure the confrontation is fair. And sometimes—this matters—they help you see where you might be mistaken. In other words, you aren’t forming a posse that’s going to back you up. It’s more like you are assembling a jury that will hear both sides, not just yours.
This step protects everyone involved. It protects the person who has been hurt from carrying the burden alone. It protects the person who has sinned from being misrepresented or misunderstood. And it protects the relationship from devolving into one person’s word against another’s.
Accountability slows things down. It brings light instead of heat. And it keeps the focus where it belongs—not on punishment, but on repentance, restoration, and truth.
Jesus assumes that sin, left unaddressed, doesn’t quietly disappear. It hardens. It spreads. And that’s why accountability isn’t a failure of forgiveness—it’s one of the ways forgiveness stays honest.
Step Four: Protect the Community
Jesus says, “If he refuses to listen even to the church, let him be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.”
That sentence should never be read quickly.
Because this is the most serious step Jesus describes—and it’s not here to shame someone, control someone, or push someone out lightly. It’s here because Jesus loves His people too much to let unrepentant sin quietly poison the community.
I need to be clear about what Jesus is talking about here. This instruction is about unrepentant sin between members of the church community. It is not a command to force confrontation in families or marriages, and it is not a license to abandon responsibility or relationship.
When Jesus says, “Tell it to the church,” He is not inviting gossip. He is describing a sober, communal recognition that every redemptive avenue has been exhausted. Private confrontation failed. Shared accountability failed.
Repentance was refused. And now the church has to decide how to remain faithful—both to the holiness of Christ and the health of His body.
Withdrawing fellowship is never the first move.
It is the last.
Here’s an irony we usually miss: When Jesus says “treat him as a Gentile and a tax collector,” let’s remember how Jesus treated Gentiles and tax collectors! This isn’t hatred or cruelty. Gentiles and tax collectors were not enemies; they were people outside the covenant who were still objects of love, still invited to repentance, still prayed for—but no longer treated as insiders who shared the same commitments.
In other words, this step draws a boundary, not a verdict.
The church is saying, “We can no longer pretend that everything is fine, or that we are all in agreement about what the gospel requires. This person is out of step with our covenant community.
And here’s why this matters: sin that is never named and never confronted does not stay private. It spreads. It rationalizes. It forms alliances. Jesus knows that unchecked sin harms more than the person committing it—it harms the whole body.
So this step protects the the integrity of the church’s witness. And yes—it even protects the sinner, by making the consequences unmistakably clear and repentance still possible.
This is the church saying, “We love you too much to call darkness light, and we love Christ too much to pretend holiness doesn’t matter.”
Paul gives us a real-life example of this in 1 Corinthians 5. A man is living in open, unrepentant sin, and Paul tells the church they cannot ignore it. He instructs them to remove him from fellowship—not out of anger, but, as Paul says, ‘so that his spirit may be saved.’
And then Paul doesn’t end the story there. In 2 Corinthians 2, he urges the church to forgive, comfort, and restore the man—because repentance has taken place. Discipline didn’t end the story. It made restoration possible.
The church did not forget the sin.
They didn’t pretend it never happened.
But they also didn’t freeze the man forever in his worst moment. That’s redemption.
Church discipline is not about removing people from grace—it’s about no longer pretending that grace requires no change.”
Even the most severe step Jesus describes is not the end of the story. It’s a boundary with a purpose. And that purpose leads us to the heart of the gospel.
Point 3: Forgive and Forget Isn’t the Gospel
As we bring this in for a landing, I want you to notice what a great teacher Jesus was. Because He doesn’t end this teaching with a lecture about the process of conflict resolution. He ends it with a story about the gospel. Let’s look at Matthew 18:21-35
[READ]
Three quick observations, and we are done.
Observation 1: The problem isn’t that the servant forgot what was owed him. The unforgiving servant remembered the debt. He remembers exactly what he’s owed. He doesn’t forget the debt. That’s not the problem.”
Observation 2: The problem is that he forgot what was forgiven him.
He remembered the offense, but he forgot the mercy he just received. He walks out of the king’s presence as if grace never happened.”
Jesus makes the contrast absurd on purpose—an unpayable debt forgiven, followed by a trivial debt violently enforced.”
Observation 3: Forgiven people forgive people.
Look again at verse 33:
Shouldn’t you also have had mercy on your fellow servant, just as I had mercy on you?
This is why “forgive and forget” isn’t the gospel.
The gospel never asks you to forget what was done to you. It asks you to remember what was done for you. The power to forgive does not come from minimizing the wound—it comes from remembering the mercy that met you in it.
The unforgiving servant isn’t condemned because he remembers the debt. He’s condemned because he lives as if grace never happened. And Jesus’ warning is not about perfection—it’s about posture. A heart that has truly been shaped by mercy cannot permanently refuse to extend it.
Forgiveness, then, is not pretending the offense didn’t matter. It’s refusing to let the offense matter more than the cross.
Invitation
As we come to a close, I want to say this gently and clearly:
this invitation is not only for people who are withholding forgiveness.
It’s also for people who are carrying the weight of needing to be forgiven.
Some of you are here this morning, and if you’re honest, you know there is resentment you’ve been holding onto. You may even have good reasons for it. You were hurt. Something real happened. And yet, you can feel how heavy it has become. If that’s you—if bitterness has taken up more space in your heart than you want it to—this altar is open to you.
But others of you are here, and your struggle is different. You’re not holding a grudge—you’re carrying regret. You know you’ve caused harm. You know you’ve broken trust. And maybe you’ve been hoping time would heal it, or silence would make it go away. If you are longing for forgiveness—from God, or from someone else—this altar is open to you too.
This is not a walk of shame.
This is not a public confession.
This is simply a step toward honesty before God.
You don’t come because you’ve figured it out.
You come because you haven’t.
And if you’re not ready to forgive—or not ready to ask for forgiveness—that’s okay. Sometimes the most faithful prayer we can pray is, “God, I’m willing to be made willing.”
So as we sing, if the Spirit is stirring you in either direction—
to release something you’ve been holding,
or to bring something into the light—
I invite you to come.
Not because forgetting is the goal.
But because redemption is.
The altar is open.
