The Business of Forgiveness

In our culture forgiveness is a nice sentiment and a core value we teach our children, but not a practice to be taken seriously. Our government recoils at the thought of bringing forgiveness into our international relations, our society chooses retribution over forgiveness for the millions of ex-offenders released back into society each year, and couples choose to sue each other and get as much monetary compensation as possible upon divorce. In our personal lives, we are reluctant to admit fault or apologize, and I’ve found that we are even more reluctant to truly forgive the wrongs committed against us. Despite our reluctance, forgiveness is a pillar in the Christian tradition:

“Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, ‘Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?’ Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.’”

Jesus’ reply shows us that forgiveness isn’t limited for the most loyal and deserving of people. We all act against our better intentions at times, and hold anger, resentment, and bitterness in our hearts more than we like to admit. We all need to be forgiven by our brothers and sisters and our Father, but we also need to forgive.

Our culture praises machismo and glorifies war heroes, so forgiveness is frequently seen as the weaker response to injustice. In my opinion, forgiveness is the most difficult and most healing response to injustice. 

Forgiveness primes even the most difficult situations for renewal, by allowing pain to be acknowledged, and let go. 

It may be counter-intuitive, but forgiveness often benefits the person forgiving more than the perpetrator being forgiven. When a ‘friend’ told me in middle school that I should kill myself because nobody cares about me, I was deeply hurt. That comment, and many like it, led me to hate myself and my life. It was completely unjustified and violent—I am fully aware of that. However, by holding onto the pain and refusing to forgive the people who hurt me, I developed a fear of trusting anyone. The damage only increased with my inability to forgive and let go, but when I was able to forgive them years later (without an apology of any kind) I allowed myself to trust again, and benefitted from positive, close relationships for the first time in years. 

I’m not suggesting that we should validate injustice with forgiveness, or ignore it altogether. We should directly address injustice while also forgiving those who do wrong, so as to create opportunity for new beginnings. This principle should be applied in personal relationships, national decision-making, international interaction, and even with ourselves. For many of us, it can be most difficult to forgive ourselves when we fall short. Just like any other situation, we can’t heal or become better without first forgiving ourselves and letting go of blame. When we hold tight to our imperfections and mistakes, we block out vulnerability and compromise our most important relationships—including our relationship with God. It’s difficult, but much better, to recognize our limitations and imperfections and be gentle with ourselves. God can’t fill us up or make us new if we don’t relinquish control of our brokenness.

Learning forgiveness is a life-long journey, and it’s well worth the effort.