The Gift That Is Forgiveness

Forgiveness has never been that difficult of a thing for me when it comes to my end of the gig. I have long understood the power and force behind owning one’s mistakes and doing what one can to make things whole for those I have hurt or offended.


I have forgiven others for transgressions from large to small. Whether spiritually speaking or not, I simply believe that the love which inspired the relationship is greater than any snare that could tear at it. From my theological point of view, forgiveness is imperative to honoring the work of the Cross. To withhold forgiveness is to say that Christ’s sacrifice was not greater than the transgression one has suffered.

To me, it has never mattered whether a person even asks for that forgiveness. It’s just my job to make my own heart right in the matter and forgive. In fact, upon reflection, some of the greatest hurts I’ve endured in life have been forgiven that way. I forgive and move on, while nothing really gets restored in terms of the relationship, for lack of the other person's contribution. It’s certainly not ideal, but it’s far better than letting bitterness prevail.

Recently, I was confronted with a request from someone for the opportunity to ‘clear the air’. This was someone who had broken my heart at a point in life where I really could have benefitted from his friendship and support, if not the love we had shared. Quietly, over the span of some time, I had made peace with the situation, with his absence, and with the lack of closure over it all. I forgave, silently, for the sake of both our souls.

I had not expected to ever hear from him again. As happens at times, his life took some unfortunate turns that apparently made him re-evaluate choices he’s made in the course of his journey. It is with a fair amount of shame that I admit I was reluctant to have this proposed ‘air clearing’. I was skeptical. I had made peace with things from my own end, and didn’t see the point in rehashing old wounds.

Ultimately, propelled by compassion for his extraordinary circumstances, I capitulated. We met.

In all my life, I have never had someone apologize so sincerely. No mitigations, no “I’m sorry, but,” just an apology-- succinctly, sincerely, and with humility, expressing regret and remorse for pieces of the past that could have been lived better, or with a greater degree of kindness. It assuaged a lot of sleepless nights, a lot of sorrow, and a lot of questioning of self. It humbled me. It made a very broken piece of me whole.

It was a gift for which I don’t even know where to insert the proper thanks.