Radical Forgiveness
And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
And they cast lots to divide his garments.
Luke 23:34
The sky over Jerusalem turned dark. Roman soldiers drove spikes through living bone. The religious elite hurled twisted insults. The crowd—hours earlier shouting “Hosanna”—now roared for blood. In the middle of it all, suspended between heaven and earth, Jesus did the unthinkable: He prayed for His executioners.
Not after they repented.
Not after they apologized.
Not even after they stopped.
While the hammer still rang and the mockery still stung, Jesus took the initiative and forgave. This is radical forgiveness—unilateral, immediate, and rooted in the heart of God. It is the forgiveness that changes everything, beginning with the forgiver.
Luke records the moment with stark simplicity: “And Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.’ And they cast lots to divide his garments” (Luke 23:34). The soldiers gamble for a seamless robe while the Savior intercedes for their souls. The contrast is jarring, and it is meant to be.
Jesus does not say, “Father, forgive them if they repent.” He does not wait for confession, contrition, or even awareness. He prays in the present tense, while the wrong is still being committed. The Greek verb aphiēmi—translated “forgive”—means to release, to send away, to let go of a debt. In that instant, Jesus cancels the ledger of every nail, every sneer, every false accusation. He does not minimize the sin; He absorbs it.
This is not cheap grace. It is costly grace—paid for by the very blood now dripping onto the dust of Golgotha.
Jesus adds a startling explanation: “for they know not what they do.” At first glance, this seems absurd. The centurion had crucified hundreds; he knew exactly how to position the body for maximum pain and minimum time. The chief priests had engineered the trial; they knew every legal maneuver. The crowd had chosen Barabbas; they knew the politics of fear.
Yet Jesus insists on a deeper ignorance. They were blind to the spiritual stakes. Paul later unmasks this blindness: “None of the rulers of this age understood this, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (1 Corinthians 2:8). They saw a Galilean troublemaker; they did not see the Lamb of God taking away the sin of the world.
This phrase is not an excuse but an invitation. Jesus’ prayer opens a door for even the worst offenders to be drawn into repentance later—Saul of Tarsus on the Damascus road, the thief on the cross beside Him. Radical forgiveness refuses to slam that door shut.
Jesus’ prayer is the climax of a scarlet thread woven through the Bible.
Joseph to his betrayers: “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good” (Genesis 50:20).
David over sleeping Saul: “The LORD forbid that I should do this thing to my lord, the LORD’s anointed” (1 Samuel 24:6).
Stephen beneath the stones: “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” (Acts 7:60).
Each mirrors the cross. And Jesus’ own teaching demands the same of us: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). The parable of the unforgiving servant ends with a chilling warning—those who refuse to forgive the debts of others will find their own debt reinstated (Matthew 18:21–35). Radical forgiveness is not optional; it is the proof that we have tasted the radical forgiveness of God.
We will never out-forgive God. Every act of human forgiveness is a trickle from the Niagara of Calvary. “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace” (Ephesians 1:7). The same blood that purchased our pardon now empowers our pardon of others.
Corrie ten Boom learned this in a German church years after Ravensbrück. A former guard—complicit in her sister’s death—approached her after the service. “Fräulein, will you forgive me?” he asked. Her stomach churned. Flesh screamed No. But she had preached forgiveness; now she had to live it. Silently she prayed, Jesus, I cannot, but You can. She extended her hand. In that moment, a current of divine love surged through her. “I forgive you,” she said—and meant it. The miracle was not her strength but His.
Radical forgiveness is not a feeling; it is a decision enabled by the Spirit. Here is how to begin—even today, even in the middle of the hurt.
Pray Jesus’ Exact Prayer “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Say their names. Ask God to open their eyes as He has opened yours.
Bless, Don’t Curse “Bless those who curse you” (Luke 6:28). Pray one good thing for your offender—salvation, healing, truth. It is spiritual jujitsu; it turns cursing into intercession.
Return to the Cross Daily Bitterness is a weed. When it resurfaces, preach the gospel to yourself: Jesus forgave me while I was still His enemy. I can forgive this person while the wound is still fresh.
The Thief’s Final Breath
Luke places another forgiveness beside Jesus—the dying thief. One criminal mocks; the other repents: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42). Jesus’ answer is immediate: “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise” (v. 43). No probation. No penance. Just grace.
That thief never apologized to the crowd, never made restitution, never even got down from the cross. Yet Jesus forgave him on the spot. If God can forgive a lifetime of sin in a single moment, we can forgive the person who cut us off in traffic—or the one who shattered our trust.
Prayer of Surrender
Father, I stand at the foot of the cross and see my own sins nailed there. Thank You for forgiving me while I was still sinning. Now, by Your Spirit, give me grace to forgive [name] for [specific hurt]. I release them. I bless them. I choose Your radical way. In the name of the One who prayed for His killers, amen.
Radical forgiveness is not the end of pain; it is the beginning of freedom. And every time we choose it, we are pulled deeper into the heart of the One who loved us first.