The Relief of Forgiveness

Have you ever met someone and, for reasons you can’t place, immediately decided they were annoying? I know we don’t want to talk about this, because certainly we have never felt this way. Except Lent is the time when we talk about the things we say we’d never do, but do in secret, so I think now’s the time to talk about it.

Naturally, I have these moments, and these people in my life. People I find annoying at first word, for no apparent reason. Sometimes, it’s a genuine realization that they are not ‘my people.’ And that’s fair. Loving your neighbor does not require inviting them to your parties.

But recently, something shifted. One of these people in my life crossed my mind, and I had my same negative thoughts about them. I hadn’t even so much as finished the thought before another — from outside of myself — swept over me.

Compassion. I suddenly felt intense compassion for them. I leveled the charges against them and God declared them innocent. I began feeling terrible about the negative thoughts and feelings I’d been harboring. It was a genuine call to repentance.

I can’t express to you enough how holy these moments felt, even just from my bed where I was scrolling on my phone. It was moving, holy, a simple transcendence, as each fleeting thought slowed to a grinding halt, to sit in front of me, immoveable, waiting on me. I’d already been gifted with the ability to feel compassion, but the holiness still waited on me to make the next move.

So I prayed. It was simple; no prayer books. I said that my judgments were unfair, told God I felt deeply moved, very sorry. I asked God to forgive me for not showing compassion sooner, for needing a divine intervention to offer the grace I should have given at first glance.

And it all felt like relief. The moment of first compassion, the call to repentance, the prayer, the silence after my confession that I know is the sound of absolution — all of it felt like relief. Even before I prayed for forgiveness, even as I just grew in compassion, I could feel the relief it brings.

I am weighed down deeply right now by the state of the world. This moment of compassion — from God to me and hopefully onward — made me realize there are some weights I carry that I could release, sins I could confess, absolutions that could lift my spirit.

I think sometimes the idea of confession sounds awful. You mean I have to say everything bad I’ve ever done? No way I’m getting out of that unscathed. And you’re not wrong. But what if holding onto it is the scathing? What if harboring the judgments we cannot defend is the pain of it, not our confession?

I felt relief. The inbreaking of the love of God, how it moved my heart, how it changed the way I saw someone made in God’s image, brought me deep peace. It made me want to be more compassionate, because I got a taste of the blessing that compassion gives others, because I first received it from God.

What a grace we receive from God when we are moved with compassion, confess our sins, and level the charges against ourselves just to hear God declare us innocent.