Living the Practice of Forgiveness Every Day
I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE this is our last chapter. We’ve certainly processed a lot together through these pages. We’ve journeyed into our pasts, and we’ve laid solid footings upon which we can build healthier futures. We’ve sat at the gray table and looked at some of the deepest hurts we’ve ever experienced. Together, we were honest and maybe at times quite shocked by how much the deeper wounds we’ve experienced have impacted us for better and for worse.
I’m both satisfied by my progress and scared by it.
I’m so thankful that I’m healing . . . really healing . . . not just giving thought to getting over what’s hurt me but truly doing the work to get through it all.
But I’m also scared of not being able to live this message on an ongoing basis. I can’t unknow these teachings on forgiveness. I can’t pretend to be oblivious to how quickly bitterness can move into my heart when loss breaks me open. I can’t pretend that my heart isn’t resistant to forgiveness—it still is. I can’t pretend that I would sometimes rather dance with dysfunction than to have the harder conversations about boundaries. And that I would rather fixate on other people’s wrongdoings than to get honest about needing to do the work of addressing and fixing my issues.
It’s not lost on me that some of man’s first recorded words to God after eating the forbidden fruit were, “I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid” (Genesis 3:10).
I relate to those words on deep levels because I’m so very prone to doing the same thing. When I get hurt, I get afraid. When I feel vulnerable, I’d rather protect myself and hide, than risk further exposure by confronting my own resentments. It’s not that I’m eating forbidden fruit in a garden, but my taste buds do crave the bitter illusionary rewards of holding grudges.
So, I guess what I’m wrestling with is not so much living this forgiveness message looking back at my past hurts. It’s the hurts that I’ll experience in my future, that I don’t even know about yet, that leave me feeling hesitant.
Life is rarely tidy. Relationships aren’t easy. And the constant stresses and strains of managing and navigating so many daily issues is hard on the human heart. I can find myself feeling like I’m doing really well with keeping my heart swept clean of bitterness one minute and the next minute feeling like a complete failure. When the same person I’ve worked hard to forgive does another thing that hurts me, I can be tempted to dig up my proof of what they did in the past, weaponize my pain against them and feel bitterness rush back inside of me like an unstoppable flood.
But as I’ve sat with these feelings of hesitation and wrestling, I’ve come to the conclusion that the goal with forgiveness isn’t perfection—it’s progress.
If this happens to you, realize this is normal. It doesn’t make you a forgiveness failure. We aren’t robots. We are tenderhearted humans who feel deeply, so we can easily get hurt deeply. The sign of progress isn’t the ability never to get hurt or offended or knocked off balance emotionally. The sign of progress is to let the pain work for you instead of against you.
Use it as an opportunity to let the pain drive you to the new healing habits and perspectives we’ve been discovering together in this book.
•Have one better thought.
•Have one better reaction.
•Have one better way to process.
•Have one better conversation.
•Have one boundary you lovingly communicate and consistently keep.
•Have one better choice not to reach for that substance to numb out.
•Have one better heart pivot toward forgiveness instead of resentment.
•Have one less day when you stay mad.
•Have one less hour when you refuse grace.
Just make some part of this time better than last time. And then take another part of this message and apply it . . . and then another. Even the most imperfect, messy forgiveness filled with hesitation and resistance is better than letting bitterness have its way with your heart. The sum total of even the smallest inklings and considerations of forgiveness is always better than one moment of full-on bitterness. You don’t have to cooperate with forgiveness perfectly—just progressively—for it to be good.
When I revisit how Jesus taught us to live this message of forgiveness, He wasn’t teaching it so we’d just apply it to all the big heartbreaks and hurts of our lives. He meant it as a daily practice.
In Matthew 6, Jesus teaches us very specifically: “This, then, is how you should pray.” That makes me sit up and take notice. There’s so much He could teach us to include in our daily prayers, right? I mean, if I were tasked with the job of teaching how to pray, I’m afraid I would overcomplicate some parts and probably, even worse, minimize or possibly even exclude other very important parts.
And you know what I may have been tempted to minimize or exclude? The very parts Jesus seems to emphasize the most—confession and forgiveness.
In Matthew 6:9–15, Jesus teaches:
“This, then, is how you should pray:
“‘Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one.’
For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”
We’ve already covered the daily bread part of the prayer. So let’s look at the importance of receiving and giving forgiveness. It makes up half of the prayer. If you are looking at the word count of this teaching as presented in the New International Version, the total teaching is ninety-four words. Giving and receiving forgiveness makes up forty-six of those words. Wow.
This grabs my attention and makes me want to lean in a little more to what Jesus wanted us to do on a daily basis besides just making our prayers about requesting help and provision from God.
The Lord’s Prayer reminds us what the human heart needs every day: we need God, we need to be forgiven, and we need to forgive.
Forgiveness is supposed to be as much a part of our daily lives as eating and sleeping.
But I will readily admit, I don’t do this daily. I’m not even sure I’ve ever done this weekly. Maybe my obedience in this area falls more in the “rarely” category. And maybe that’s the very reason why I sometimes have an unexplainable heavy feeling inside of me and why I can slip into relational funks during which
•I have a hard time believing the best in some people when our history begs me to keep expecting their worst.
•I sometimes doubt that truly healthy relationships are possible.
•I can get overwhelmed and exhausted by having to work so hard on my relationships.
•I find I’m more likely to tolerate some people rather than truly enjoy them.
•I want to prove my side of things sometimes more than I want to improve a relationship.
•I am skeptical of trusting some people, not because of what they’ve done but what’s been done to me by others.
I don’t think I’m alone with all of this. Conflict and chaos are everywhere. We live in a day and time when being offended almost seems to go hand in hand with being alive. Almost everyone is epically offended by something. Almost everyone has relationship troubles. Almost everyone would rather take a side than to bow their head and kneel in prayer. And I would guess almost none of us are truly praying daily with confession and forgiveness like Jesus taught us.
I’ll be the first in line to raise my hand and admit this is me. I’m too easily offended. I’m too quick to get defensive. I’m too slow to turn to prayer. I’m very rarely confessing. And I’m too often not forgiving.
I want to change this. I want to mature in this. I want to truly be “quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry” (James 1:19).
Feeling angry is different from living angry.
Feeling offended is different from living offended.
Feeling skeptical is different from living skeptical.
Feeling wronged is different from living wronged.
Feeling resentment is different from living resentful.
Jesus knew we’d have all these feelings, especially when there’s so much unpredictability in our circumstances, our relationships, and even our own emotions. So, Jesus gives us a prayer to pray each day to get ahead of all that. With confession and forgiveness, we can get ahead of all we’ll face today.
And, again, I know I won’t do this perfectly. But that doesn’t mean I don’t try at all. Just a few weeks ago, someone I’ve been trying to help completely blindsided me with a reaction that felt extremely out of character. I was so hurt all I wanted to do was pull back from helping and give way to a full unleashing of my anger on them. I could feel bitterness rising up as I mentally said over and over in my head, “After all I’ve given you . . . all the ways I’ve been patient with you, all the ways I’ve tried to help you. . . . THIS IS HOW YOU’RE GOING TO TREAT ME?!”
But instead of immediately reacting, I remembered pieces and parts of this book. I thought about how just that morning I’d prayed the Lord’s Prayer and confessed several places where my own heart needed some work. I’d pre-decided to forgive those who might do or say something that might hurt me or stir up my strong emotions that day. And, in doing both these things, I’d once again remembered that I can’t expect a perfection in others I’m not even capable of living out myself. I need grace for my very human tendencies and so do others.
Confession breaks the cycle of chaos inside of me.
Forgiveness breaks the cycle of chaos between us.
So, instead of letting my anger stir me to cause more hurt and pain, I simply let my anger inform me that something needed to be settled between my friend and me. But I didn’t think I could speak without personalizing what she’d done and speaking things I might later regret. I knew I needed to be honest, but I didn’t want to be hurtful. I knew I wanted peace with her, but all I felt was chaos in the situation. So I asked her if she could come over to my house and instead of us trying to figure it out or talk it out, maybe we could pray it through together.
I wanted the Jesus in me to talk to the Jesus in her. I wanted the Jesus in her to talk to the Jesus in me. And later that day as we prayed, the most unexplainable peace washed over us both. It didn’t necessarily solve the issue at hand. But it did prevent the chaos of adding in more hurt, more confusion, and more opportunities for resentment. It took the sting out and invited the possibility for grace in. And it absolutely brought an atmosphere of peace I’m not sure we could have gotten to that day any other way.
The Lord’s Prayer that morning prepared my heart for something I didn’t even know was coming. The best time to forgive is before we are ever offended.
The next best time to forgive is right now.
That’s why I want to make this a part of my every day “one better choice” with forgiveness. This is progress. This is the good work of maturing.
Maturity isn’t the absence of hard stuff. Maturity is the evidence that a person allowed the hard stuff to work for them rather than against them.
Most of the time we only think about what hardships take from us. Maturity helps us see how hardships can add what’s missing in our development. Maturity helps us become more self-aware. Maturity helps us process with healthier perspectives. Maturity sets us up for healthier relationships. And maturity has a depth of empathy for others and a patience for imperfection that is less likely to get so easily offended.
All of this is a much bigger deal than we know. And I think that’s why Jesus placed such an emphasis on confession and forgiveness when He taught us to pray.
So, how do we practically do this? I need a way to keep weaving this prayer and more of God’s instruction into my life, or I will slip back into old thought patterns and unhealthy emotional habits.
Here’s how we can activate the process of confession and forgiveness on a daily basis using the Word of God as our guide. Choose a verse from the Bible that’s addressing a theme applicable to a relationship dynamic you’re working on. I’ve provided a list of verses you can start with just below.
Then get a journal with plenty of space to go through these steps:
1.Draw a square that’s large enough to write the verse in the center of the square.
2.On the top of the square write the theme of this verse.
3.On the bottom of the square write the opposite of the theme.
4.On the left side of the square draw a horizontal line dividing that space in half. On the top side of the space, write out what God wants you to do in response to this verse.
5.On the bottom side of that divided left side, write out what the enemy wants you to do in response to this verse.
6.On the right side of the square, write out these words with space to journal a few lines under each word:
•PROGRESS: Where am I making progress with this verse?
•SUPPRESS: What is a situation where I’m feeling resistant to living this verse?
•DIGRESS: Is there a situation where I’m taking steps backward with this verse?
•REGRESS: Where am I living in rebellion against this verse?
•CONFESS: Now, I am aware of some confessions I need to make. As I write these out, I will ask God to give me a spirit of humility in the process.
•FORGIVENESS: Where is someone not living this verse with me? This is an opportunity for forgiveness. It doesn’t excuse their behavior; it frees me from being hindered by unforgiveness.
What you’ve confessed and the forgiveness you’ve expressed is now changed into an area of progress. This makes this a full-circle process.
I’ve found that this is how the hard things I experience can work for me. As I become more aware of what needs to be confessed and opportunities to practice forgiveness, I become more mature. I become a better wife, mom, friend, and daughter. Honestly, I become a better human even to people I don’t know but interact with every day.
Here’s how this looks in my journal:
Go to https://proverbs31.org/forgiveness to get printable worksheets with this Bible study tool.
And here are some verses to start with:
Romans 12:2
Matthew 5:8
Ephesians 4:29
Colossians 3:2
Galatians 6:1
Matthew 18:15
James 1:19–20
James 4:10
James 4:11
Luke 14:11
Ephesians 4:1–2
As we close, I want to share a story that forever changed the way I view forgiveness, especially where the dynamics are seemingly impossible.
Some moments pass in our lives, and we don’t realize until much later that it’s a segment of time we’ll never forget. Others arrest our hearts with such captivation, we know. I think this experience I had in Israel a couple of years ago was both.
I’ve always loved visiting Israel, but this day wasn’t about studying the land, as it had been in the past. This day was focused on the people. I was given the opportunity to participate in some peace talks with women between whom others said peace wasn’t possible. These women knew loss. They knew deep sorrow. They knew being wounded in the most painful ways.
They were divided in their religious beliefs, their national narratives, and their politics. Their loved ones had been killed, some fighting for their beliefs and others caught in the crossfire.
They’d lost sons, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, daughters, and husbands.
I stared into the dark eyes lined with sorrow seated beside me. Our worlds were seemingly nothing alike. She wore a burka. I wore jeans and a headband. We didn’t speak with the same accent. We didn’t attend the same kind of place of worship. We didn’t eat the same kinds of food or discuss the same kinds of issues among our friends.
She held a folded photograph in her hand. So much sadness looked back at me. “She was my only daughter. She was beautiful. She was shot twice.” I reached out and took her hand. She unfolded the picture, and I was shocked to see how young her daughter had been.
The lady on the other side of me held a totally different narrative about the same country’s issues. She wore a wig and a skirt that went almost to her ankles. We didn’t speak with the same accent. We didn’t attend the same kind of church. We didn’t eat the same kinds of food or discuss the same kinds of issues among our friends.
She held a small frame in her hand. So much sadness looked back at me. She’d lost her husband. I reached out to take her hand.
Differences made for dividing lines all around the room. Dividing lines that spanned back generation upon generation.
But there we were, hand in hand. A circle of divided women so very united by our tears. We’d all experienced deep, devastating loss.
And in the commonality of our loss, we found a peace that others said would be impossible. We weren’t there to solve the problems of politics. We weren’t there to debate who was right. We were there just to talk as humans. As women. As fellow carriers of sorrow.
We took time to listen. We were slow to speak. And though there was heartbreak . . . and unanswered questions . . . and different views on what happened and why, there was also a desire to see past our differences. After everyone had time to share, we left the circle and went into a commercial kitchen. We spent the rest of the afternoon making fruit jams together. Stirring and mixing and bringing together something much sweeter than the sugar and fruit.
I guess a political analyst might say we didn’t accomplish much by the world’s standards that day. But they would be wrong. I can’t speak for the others, but it accomplished much in my heart. I am reminded of the lesson of that day so very often.
Tears from loss have such potential to draw us together.
What I saw in that peace talk was so beautiful.
But there’s another side to pain that is brutal.
It’s when we don’t allow the pain to make us more compassionate toward others but rather become more convinced than ever that others are out to get us. We don’t reach out with understanding. Instead, we lash out, multiplying the hurt that’s been done to us into other people’s lives.
We flip people off in traffic. We are unusually harsh with the cashier who got our order wrong in the drive-through. We voice strong judgments about others just to make ourselves look better. We are determined to prove others wrong.
Show me an ugly or snarky or hurtful comment on social media, and I promise the person who wrote it is suffering from loss. And the last thing in the world that will ever fix them is for us to attack them back. If pain got them into this place, more pain heaped on them will never help them get out of it. Having compassion for their loss and grace for their pain doesn’t validate what they say. It just honors the reality that they are more than their hurtful comment. And you might be the only one in their life right now who has the chance to help and the courage to care.
The final task at the end of that day with the women in Israel was to vote for who would get the money from the sale of the jam we’d made. And there were a lot of jars of jam, which meant this would truly be helpful to whoever got the money. Everyone had needs. All could have made a case for being the ones who received it. But as we got to know one another that day through the commonality of our tears, we voted simply for who needed the money the most. The women in burkas were given the money. And it was a unanimous vote. No one said the word forgiveness. They didn’t have to. It was there. And everyone knew it.
More than a win for just that situation, it was a vote for what compassion and forgiveness can accomplish within the human race. This wasn’t declaring anyone right. It was simply extending compassion where compassion was needed. It was the most beautiful sermon about what is possible with God that I’ve ever experienced.
And if it was possible for them, surely, it’s possible for me and you.
Jesus didn’t just model forgiveness when He taught us to pray. It was the message of His life. And it was the declaration of His death as He uttered, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” But even more, it is the proclamation of every saved soul: “I am forgiven. Therefore, I must forgive.”
Again, I wish we were together right now sitting at the gray table. At this point, I don’t think there would be much left to say. So, I would probably hug your neck and tuck a note into your hand. It’s something I wrote just for you—“The Beauty of Forgiving.” (When you turn this page you’ll find it.) After saying goodbye, I’d picture you reading it and smiling.
We survived. And now we can go on living—really living—because we know the secret to healing really is forgiving.