How often should I forgive?
Seventy times seven. A limitless mercy.
I will not forget, but I will not relive.
I owed the King a debt,
And I wept for I could not pay
He forgave the bond,
And, pardoned, I walked away
When I arrived home, free of chains
Someone owed me payment
Should I be patient, as I was lovingly shown?
Should I lock them away in a prison of bone?
Should I not have compassion for them,
When I have received the greatest of all grace?
Forgiveness is an odd thing. It feels entirely upside down in its nature and wholly tangible. The lightness and peace of forgiveness is felt in my body, both when I ask for it and when I extend it.
I often find myself simmering in anger over things I cannot control. Not a physically destructive or abusive anger, but one that sits in my heart and threatens to burn your skin if you get too close.
Recently, there was a swath of harassment on the platform. I was a receiver of such, and it kindled a fire inside that almost burnt me out completely. While I’d like to forget, I knew I couldn’t simply ignore what happened. I’ve been quiet about this for the past week. I needed to sort out my soul.
If you didn’t know, I identify as a Christian. I believe that Jesus died and rose again and that through His sacrifice I am forgiven. I don’t always write explicitly about my faith, but it permeates my words nonetheless. I’ve wanted to write this post for a while now, but today is the day.
In February, I found myself hurt, aching, and angry. You could say the month was not kind to me, and I was dealing with a period of depression on top of all that happened. Anger was a normal human response to the pain, but I can’t live there. It would lead to the emotional death of my soul and those around me.
Something that kept returning to my mind in the aftermath was the reminder of God’s unfailing love and mercy. I’m not perfect. I have my own vices, desires, and temptations, but God still forgives me. This is a beautiful mystery I’m not sure I’ll ever comprehend completely.
Romans 3:23 is a reminder of our fallen nature, that no one is better than another.
“For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard” (NLT).
I can’t fully explain the peace I felt, driving to church on a Sunday morning. The weight of anger collapsed and melted into mercy when I declared with God as my witness that I had forgiven those who hurt me. I let my eyes see them the way God does: made in his image, and though sinful, completely loved. My love for people who sin against me isn’t distinguishable easily in the English language. It is not romantic or brotherly love, but agape.
Agape is shown on display beautifully in 1 Corinthians 13:1-7.
“If I could speak all the languages of earth and of angels, but didn’t love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge, and if I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn’t love others, I would be nothing. If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it; but if I didn’t love others, I would have gained nothing. Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance” (NLT).
I will not keep a record of this wrongdoing in my mind and recount it with enmity, for it has been forgiven. Those people will remain blocked. But, for me, harboring anger toward them only harms me further.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to move on with my writing until I had stared at those I viewed as demons and watched as they became fallen human beings in my eyes. Monstrous though their actions were, they are still capable of change and are loved by the same God who loves me.
No, I will not do the things they did. I will not condone their behavior. But there are sins I indulge in and I’d be remiss not to show mercy on my fellow human beings when I have been shown such divine forgiveness.
Forgiveness isn’t about dissolving boundaries, trust me, I have plenty. Mercy is showing grace to those who do not deserve it, and I know what it’s like to be forgiven. It’s the greatest joy I hold in my chest on this earth. The knowing that God views me not as a piece of filth, but a beloved daughter is beyond my understanding and I am in awe of that fact every day.
Lamentations 3:23 (NLT)
“Great is his faithfulness;
his mercies begin afresh each morning.”
Cover art credits: Spring by Joseph Rubens Powell (1835-1871)
If you’re curious about my faith, here’s an essay I wrote that you may enjoy
oh this is just so beautiful. i haven't identified as christian in a few years, but grew up extremely religious and still hold a lot of those beliefs. this piece brought me back to a place i haven't been in a long time. an understanding of true christianity, how it was intended. the rarity of this kind of faithfulness and compassion is what pushed me away from religion in the first place, and a lot of this felt like coming home. thank you so much for sharing your heart and your faith 💖
hey there! i just joined substack and im so glad i came upon this beautiful piece! as someone who isnt religious, im not particularly familiar with the Bible but i loved the way you mixed it into your writing <3 thank you!