There was a time when I could not forgive. I’m not proud of this, but it’s true. I wanted to forgive. I asked many people for advice on how to forgive. But still, forgiveness eluded me. You see, I grew up in a house characterized by addiction, neglect, and abuse. For many years, I carried around the wounds from those years. In fact, I still carry them and probably always will. But the choice to offer those wounds up to Christ is what finally allowed me to learn how to choose to forgive.
I used to carry my wounds as a victim, still being hurt and allowing myself to be hurt. Now I choose to carry them as a survivor, protected by God. Before, my heart could carry the wounds as long as it was hard and stoney, not able to feel their pain. But now Christ Himself protects my heart, so I do not need the protective armor any longer. In fact, He gave me a new one: “I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh” (Ezekiel 36:26). In the newness of my protected heart, I learned that forgiveness—like love—is not a feeling, a noun. Rather, it’s a verb, an action. Forgiving someone who has hurt you is a choice. You don’t have to feel warm fuzzies afterwards. You don’t even have to tell the person, “I forgive you,” although you could.
Forgiveness is a choice you make to release the person from retribution for their sins against you. In the accounting book of life, their debt to you is zero. As in our Gospel today (Matthew 18:21-35), we can be compassionate and forgive debts. The person you forgive can walk away and owe you nothing, or you can try to reconcile.
Side note: reconciliation and forgiveness are related, yet different actions. Forgiveness can be a one-way street; it only takes one person to forgive another. Reconciliation takes two people who are willing to forgive and work past hurts to rebuild a relationship.
Every time the hurt comes to mind, you have a choice to forgive. Every instance of hurt, betrayal, neglect, disappointment, or violence is an opportunity to forgive. Every memory of the pain that it caused is the chance to say, “I choose to forgive.” For me, this is what Christ means by forgiving seventy-seven times (Matthew 18:22). He tells me, “Don’t try to keep track of your forgiveness tally, just keep forgiving.”
Some debts seem too big to forgive. Some things are just too hurtful. Too shameful. Too invasive. Too heartbreaking. Too incomprehensible for our human minds and hearts. It’s in these times when we can ask for a portion God’s Divine Mercy, that inexhaustible ocean of mercy that St. Faustina encountered in Christ. We may not feel capable of forgiving, but God has plenty of mercy to spare. Imagine the biggest bank account in the universe, able to pay off the largest debts. To access this awesome ocean of mercy, we must imitate Christ on the cross. Here is an excerpt from Fr. Jacques Philippe that is just too perfect to try and paraphrase:
“When Jesus forgave his enemies on the cross, he turned to the Father and said, Father forgive them. They know not what they do. When we find it too hard to say, ‘I forgive you,’ we too must turn to the Father, because in the end only God can really forgive. We have to turn to the Father and say those words of Jesus, ‘Father forgive him—or forgive her—because he (or she) doesn’t know what he (or she) is doing.’ To forgive, we have to go through the heart of the Father. This is the source of forgiveness. It is not in me; it’s the heart of God, and that’s where I have to go looking for forgiveness.” —Fr. Jacques Philippe
When we choose to forgive others from our heart (Matthew 18:35)—from the Father’s heart—we find true peace. In fact, in active forgiveness, we lay claim to our peace. We take back what was lost, and we are restored. Our heavy, hardened hearts of stone can become light, natural hearts of flesh. We take take the weight of carrying around our wounds and offer them to Christ. In that action of redemptive suffering, God gives purpose to our pain. In His goodness, nothing is wasted.
It is also comforting to embrace God’s mercy for ourselves. Receiving the sacrament of Reconciliation frequently is so helpful in this regard. When we freely receive God’s mercy, it’s easier for us to give His mercy to others. We leave the confessional forgiven and restored, our souls refreshed. And behold, He makes us and all things new again (Revelation 21:5). This is the peace of Christ that the world cannot give us (John 14:27). The peace that comes from owing nothing and being owed nothing. As Fr. Philippe would say, this is true “interior freedom.”