how can I forgive him?

For a long time, I found myself unforgiving to forgiveness.  Originally a uniquely Christian concept, “forgiveness,” has been fairly integrated into our vernacular.  Like most abstract and grandiose words derived from righteous definition, forgiveness has lost its God-breathed, authoritative, and powerful significance.  Without a clear definition and understanding of what forgiving someone actually means, it is all too tempting to mistake it for a calling less challenging and less provoking.  Like love, hope, grace, and mercy, forgiveness is a characteristic of God, and so, to love, to hope, to be gracious, to be merciful, and forgiving, is to partake in the holy.  It is to be a little bit more like Christ. 

In the past, I had been told that in times of conflict, forgiveness was the noble route.  Squabbles between siblings were quickly forgiven, and apologies deftly responded with “I forgive you.”  However, these offenses would attach themselves to my memory like an unwelcome guest.  I would subconsciously keep a detailed tab of what each person had said and what they had done – as though each wrongdoing became an emotional brick in the walls of my mind. 

I’ve done this time and time again: I’ve sincerely desired to forgive someone, but could not bring myself to sincerely forgive and forget.  As offense compounded over bitterness and time, forgiveness seemed impossible and frankly, to me, quite pointless.  I’ve come to the realization that it was my paltry definition of forgiveness and pitiful following of its demands that have led me to this complacency.  I like turning to Webster’s for clarity, which is especially interesting if indeed forgiveness was originally a uniquely Christian value:

forgive |fərˈgiv|

verb ( past -gave ; past part. -given ) [ trans. ]

1. a: to give up resentment of or claim to requital for
    b: to grant relief from payment of (as in, a debt)

2. to cease to feel resentment against (an offender)

From this, I’ve boiled the act of forgiving down to three stages:

1. CHOICE
2. GRACE/MERCY
3. COMMITMENT TO PERMANENCE

Forgiveness is first and foremost a choice.  You have to choose to “give up resentment” and your “claim” to requital.  Though the resentment may be yours, and you possess a claim to keep it, it is your choice to let it go.  It has to be yours first in order to give away.  This has always been my stumbling block, because, as you know, I am to the core, 80% heart and 20% cerebral.  Choices follow my heart, instead of my mind.  Of course I rarely T H I N K to forgive, I wait for myself to 

F E E L to forgive.  (You should know, this is a looonnnnnngggggggg, arduous, and unnecessary process that only really hurts you) 

Make the choice.

Secondly, forgiveness is graceful and merciful.  You “grant” relief.  You wield the power of punishment.  Oftentimes, this punishment is inflicted on yourself, when you feel yourself unable to forgive yourself.  Perhaps more familiar, is the scenario of making others pay.  It can either be a tangible debt, or a process of scrutiny: forcing others to prove their worth or trust to you, before being allowed in again. 

Lastly, and most important, forgiveness is the commitment to permanence.  Forgiveness is to cease resentment against an offender. 

LOVE KEEPS NO RECORD OF WRONGS.

If you truly have forgiven someone, you forget their wrongs.  There’s no way around this.  You either forget or you don’t.  You either record or erase.  Ceasing involves the initial commitment to stop, and implies permanence.  As in, when you say, “I forgive you,” you really mean, “I will never bring this up again, because it has been erased from my record. Your debts have been paid.” 

When you think about those serious offenders in your life – the abusers, the neglects, the enemies, the repeat offenders, can you honestly think soberly about what they did or said to you, and wholly F O R G I V E them?  I couldn’t.  Honestly, I couldn’t.  But that doesn’t mean I’ve given up – it only means that I can’t do it on my own. 

It’s frustrating, humbling, and annoying at the same time, to visualize your offender in your mind.   It is almost incomprehensible to further imagine them blessed, happy, and elevated above yourself: your needs, your identity, and your heart.  And while it is easier to secretly imagine them caught in a horrendous tsunami or slowly eaten by vultures, I know that that’s not the way to love someone.  

I was convicted of this the other morning.  Venting to God about my past and those I couldn't bring myself to wholly forgive, He spoke loudly and clearly into my swirling thoughts.  "I will never get over this, because I can't bring myself to forget something so haunting," I argued.  This is what He said to me:

"You will never learn to forgive him if you do not first take responsibility for your own offenses."  

Quit playing the victim in all your circumstances.  Next time you indulgingly reminisce or graphically enter into your memory, recall the nasty words you uttered or thoughts you let rot your heart.  Recall the gossip spoken against unknowing others.  Recall your own deceptions.  Viewing yourself as a victim will only justify your resentments, while taking responsibility for yourself frees you from your resentments.  

   

Yeah.  That is a high calling, but a King would ask no less of his heirs and heiresses.  Therefore, the next time you tell someone, “I forgive you,” you’d better mean it.