Forgiveness, in many traditions, is held up as a fundamental virtue. We are told to love our enemies and, when we feel hurt or slighted, to take the high road, or "let things go."
It’s interesting how often our struggles in life are followed by advice from others about what we should do differently.
If simply changing our actions was the answer, then our solution for sadness and worry would be to just smile more and not think about negative things so much. “Turn that frown upside down and think positive,” ought to make it all better, right?
I don’t know about you, but advice like that at times when I was feeling emotionally charged would tend to heat things up more than cool them down.
Taking the high road isn’t such a noble perspective either; it's actually a condescending one.
Choosing to "be the bigger person" means looking down on another from a place of perceived moral authority. To forgive someone from that position of superiority isn't graceful at all; more like a court handing down a pardon.
It doesn’t resolve the hurt; it overrides it.
So how do we choose forgiveness?
We don’t; however, it is achievable.
One of the benefits of being in your 50s is that you’ve collected enough data to see, if you choose, some distinguishable yet undeniable patterns.
What had for decades been a liability of nagging, agonizing reminders of past hurts and perceived failures slowly turns into an asset called hindsight.
As the band Everlast once wrote:
I've seen a rich man beg
I've seen a good man sin
I've seen a tough man cry
I've seen a loser win
And a sad man grin
I heard an honest man lie
The song is called What It’s Like, and that is indeed what it’s like.
What once felt like endless pages of painful, contradictory memories from a dark time has now transformed into a deeply comforting book of wisdom, bringing the journey full circle.
I understand and accept much more of my past than I once did, seeing the twists and turns as necessary to knowing what I know now. The feeling that results from that clarity is what we call forgiveness.
That forgiveness is not a choice per se. It’s a byproduct of acceptance and understanding.
American writer James Baldwin once wrote: “I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.
We all have a few chapters that we wouldn't want read out loud. But rather than accepting and trying to understand what happened, we often choose anger and justification instead.
We do this not only with others, but with ourselves as well. Resentment and guilt are close cousins.
It’s ironic, if not hypocritical, how, with our own mistakes, we become very good lawyers, and with others’ mistakes, we become even better judges. We so want to be understood and forgiven for our mistakes, without ever taking the time to understand the missteps of others. We demand grace for our own ignorance, yet pronounce life sentences on others for theirs.
When we feel hurt, of course our natural response is to protect ourselves from the pain it brings. But eventually we need to see and feel that our fortress of security eventually becomes a prison of isolation.
In my years of self-reflection and coaching, I've found that when we strip away the story of what should or could have happened and begin telling the truth about what did, more often than not the behaviour, whether an action or inaction, ours or theirs, was rooted in fear.
Whether we/they stayed too long or not long enough, said too much or didn’t say enough, did too much or didn’t do enough, I have yet to find an answer to any conflict that wasn’t rooted in fear.
Fear requires fences. When we don’t understand someone or something, we feel a guard is necessary for our protection. As we begin to understand, the value of that guard diminishes and will eventually go away.
It’s important to remember that accepting isn’t condoning, and understanding isn’t agreement. It’s not a waving of a white flag and surrendering; it’s reclaiming the power to choose what comes next.
Forgiveness isn't a gift we bestow on others, or even ourselves following a conflict. It's the quiet relief that happens naturally when we accept what happened and understand the fear that created it.
