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HAVING AN EARNED-RUN-AVERAGE OF INFINITY

If you owe your college roommate fifty bucks, you can probably scrape that together somehow and get even. If you've run up a debt of six million, it might be a bit tougher. What recourse do you have, besides filing Chapter 11, if it turns out you're up to INFINITY in the red?

Have you ever tried to divide by zero with your calculator? In fact, that's a fairly popular algebra question anyway: "What do you get when you divide something by zero?" The answer's not zero, by the way — and most calculators just flash up an LED "Error" message. Sometimes a teacher will say that "undefined" is the proper answer.

Actually, if you stop and dissect the situation, the correct reply is that you get "infinity" with a zero in the denominator. As the bottom number in your fraction gets smaller and smaller and smaller, the entire number, of course, gets larger and larger . . . and finally — just as your denominator gets to zero – it explodes into infinity. In theory.

It was fun to notice, many years ago, that in a World Series game between the Dodgers and the Yankees, a Los Angeles pitcher named Bob Welch started Game Four here at Dodger Stadium, but didn't get a single batter out. Technically, then, his earned-run-average for that game — since he gave up four runs but didn't officially pitch even one-third of one inning — according to the formula his ERA was infinity. Not a good bargaining position for next year's contract!

Here's one more high-end math concept . . . and then we'll quickly flee to the relative simplicity of God's Word! If you had the numbers 2, 4, 6, and so on, going forever and forever — in other words, all the even integers clear out to the end of the number line – how many would you have? Well, infinity, of course. Wouldn't it be nice if they were dollars? But suppose your next-door neighbor has ALL the positive integers — 1, 2, 3, 4, etc., etc. — not just the even ones, but all of them, going clear out to the end of the rainbow too, then does he have twice as much infinity as you do? Is there such a thing as infinity and double-infinity, or infinity plus fifty? I'm told that there's actually an entire branch of higher mathematics, called set theory, developed by a German named Georg Ferdinand Ludwig Philipp Cantor, where these kinds of questions are kicked around.

Well, what does this have to do with our parable of the week, which has this very concise and succinct title: THE LADY WHO WON A MILLION BUCKS FROM REGIS PHILBIN, THEN SQUABBLED WITH THE VALET OVER $20 OUT IN ABC'S PARKING LOT? A million dollars isn't infinity, although it's certainly close enough to satisfy most of us. And in this teaching story by Jesus, we find a lucky man who is essentially handed a monetary gift so huge that it's clear out there off the mathematical charts.

Here's the verbatim court transcript as told by the tax man Matthew himself:

"The kingdom of heaven" — this is Jesus talking — "is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. As he began the settlement, a man who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him."

Right away we have to call for a Brinks truck. One Bible commentary ran the math on this, converting from talents and denarii into dollars, and suggested this number: $6,221,880. However, that was in 1956, so those would be Eisenhower dollars. We're quite a ways down the Inflation Superhighway since then, and the NIV Bible text notes put this cryptic P.S. on the story: "Millions of dollars." This guy didn't just forget his lunch money three days in a row; he owes a whole bunch. He's in bad trouble and the loan sharks are coming to get him.

By the way, he lived in a culture where you weren't allowed to file Chapter 11. Notice what he faces:

"Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt."

There's quite a bit in the Bible, by the way, about the fact that this is frankly how things were. In II Kings 4, there's a similar scenario:

"The wife of a man from the company of the prophets cried out to Elisha, ‘Your servant my husband is dead, and you know that he revered the Lord. But now his creditor is coming to take my two boys as his slaves.'"

You can read, however, in Exodus 21, and again in Leviticus 25 and elsewhere some of the rules God put in place while these wayward, spiritually child-like people worked their way through issues like divorce and slavery. Bond servants were to be treated kindly and fairly, and in the seventh year they were always given their freedom regardless. But Jesus often told stories that reflected the political and social realities of the day — for good or for ill. Friend, we need to understand that as we read these stories. So here's a man who owes six million or so dollars, and of course he can't pay. So he and his wife and his kids and his pet dog are all going to debtor's prison; in fact, they're sold into slavery as a means of at least paying down a few dollars on the debt.

Richard France, whose Matthew commentary in the Tyndale series has been a magnificent resource in this series, quotes from Dr. J. D. M. Derrett's volume, Law in the New Testament, which suggests that a man like this might have been the chief minister for a large province in charge of tax returns for an oriental emperor. In that case, being in arrears to the tune of six million bucks, or ten thousand talents, is an understandable dilemma. In such a situation, being permitted to carry over the year's assessment into the next year might be a realistic plea bargain. In any case, notice what this man does when threatened with jail:

"The servant fell on his knees before [the king]. ‘Be patient with me,' he begged, ‘and I will pay back everything.'" And now here's the kicker to the story: "The servant's master took pity on him, CANCELED the debt and let him go."

Isn't that something? Now, before we go on to Part Two of the story, let's notice a couple of things. First of all, this man, this servant to the king, is an insider. It would be hard for a commoner, an average schmo out on the streets, to run up a debt of six million bucks against his own king. There'd be no way to ever owe that much. So this person is in the inner circle, a trusted confidant. In my denomination, we might suggest — hypothetically, of course — that perhaps our General Conference president has run up some enormous debt against God, a big list of sins. Sometimes the greatest leaders have the biggest falls; have you noticed? And yet there is mercy even for the hypocrites sitting in the kitchen cabinet. Even when betrayed by a close friend, Jesus forgives. (Remember the story of Peter denying His own Lord — at the most crucial hour?)

But the second thing to take note of is this. This man essentially owes God infinity. Even if he's a delinquent tax collector, the money's gone. He's spent it, lost it . . . otherwise he'd pay up on the spot. Plus, now that he's being sold into slavery or imprisoned, how's he going to earn $6,221,880 from there? There's no way.

This is such an important lesson for us to learn, friend, because even the most devout Christians in the world usually wake up in the morning and tell the Lord, "I'll pay up for my sins. Somehow I'll stitch together enough good deeds to earn a home in heaven." That's the default mindset for human beings: "I'll pay the tab myself." And we forget that the debt is infinite!

In that Matthew commentary I mentioned, Dr. France gives us an interesting bit of insider information. In that culture, the "talent" was the highest form of currency there was. In the Greek system you had drachmas, staters, minas, and then talents. On top of that, ten thousand was really the biggest numeral they had. So Jesus — instead of trying to say $6,221,880 — is really saying "infinity." The biggest coin in the realm, multiplied by the biggest number on your abacus. That's how much this guy owes. And that's how much he's forgiven.

So this is what Pastor Lonnie needs to keep on his nightstand all the time. How much do I owe? Infinity. And, by the way, the biggest kind of infinity there is, SUPER-infinity, if there are indeed gradations of that concept. I owe it all, man. And then the good news is that this is how much I have been forgiven. Not ten thousand talents. Not six million bucks and change. No, infinity. What I have been forgiven cannot be calculated; it cannot be illustrated, it cannot be portrayed . . . and it most certainly cannot be paid back. Whether I'm sitting in debtor's prison or in Regis Philbin's hot seat as a permanent player who gets to hold a thesaurus in his lap, I cannot pay God back EVER by my own efforts.

And the question, then, is this. Once I realize that fact, once I know how hugely free I have been set, what should I do when I then meet a guy in the street who owes ME?