Lent 2026 · Day 21: The Strange Work of Forgiveness

Forgiveness is a strange thing.

We like to think forgiveness means pretending something didn’t happen. Like if we say the words out loud, the past somehow disappears.

But that’s not really what forgiveness is.

Forgiveness doesn’t erase what happened.

Forgiveness is about letting go of what we’re still carrying.

Not for them.

For us.

It’s about reclaiming space in our hearts, in our bodies, and in our spirits. It’s about making peace with our own choices, even the ones that hurt.

It’s about releasing the quiet guilt of letting someone close enough to wound us in the first place.

Because vulnerability requires trust.

You don’t hand your heart to just anyone. You only bare your soul to someone who has shown they can hold it with care.

But sometimes people wear masks.

They come cloaked in promises of love, only to reveal later that their love was conditional.

“If only you weren’t so…”

“If only you could just…”

That’s not love.

That’s manipulation.

That’s control.

Sometimes we confuse love with trauma bonds because the pain feels familiar. But just because something is familiar doesn’t mean it’s safe. A lot of us enter relationships hoping someone else will fix the broken parts of ourselves.

We want to be seen.

We want to be chosen.

We want to be healed.

But healing doesn’t happen when we hand ourselves over to people who only want the version of us they can reshape.

We are not projects.

We are people.

And this society doesn’t exactly make emotional honesty easy.

It shames vulnerability.

It punishes difference.

It demands perfection while quietly thriving on our insecurity.

But I’ve been doing the work.

I’ve sat with my pain.

I’ve named my patterns.

I’ve stopped romanticizing emotional abuse.

I don’t want to be loved for my potential.

I want to be loved for who I am today.

Mature love, real love, requires compromise, not coercion.

Honesty, not gaslighting.

Empathy, not expectation.

We all carry scars.

But scars are not proof that we are broken.

They are proof that we have healed before.

Healing isn’t linear. It’s messy. It’s layered. It’s like new skin slowly forming under old emotional wounds.

And sometimes we keep picking at those wounds because they’re familiar. Because even pain can feel like home when it’s what we’ve always known. But I don’t want pain to feel like home anymore.

My dad has been gone for more than sixteen years.

I’ve carried more than enough hurt for one lifetime.

It’s time to let some of that go.

Lenten Reflection: The Work of Forgiveness

The letter of Epistle to the Ephesians reminds us:

“Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” (Ephesians 4:32)

That sounds simple when you read it on a page.

Be kind.

Be compassionate.

Forgive.

But forgiveness is rarely simple in real life.

Sometimes forgiveness is not about restoring a relationship.

Sometimes it’s about releasing the hold that pain still has on you.

Kindness and compassion don’t mean pretending someone didn’t hurt you. They don’t mean excusing manipulation, betrayal, or emotional harm.

They mean choosing not to let that hurt define the rest of your story.

Forgiveness is not forgetting.

It’s deciding that the past no longer gets to control the future.

And sometimes the person who most needs compassion in that process is yourself.

Lent invites us to take an honest look at the things we are still carrying.

Old resentment.

Old shame.

Old versions of ourselves we are still trying to outgrow.

Forgiveness doesn’t magically erase those things.

But it can loosen their grip.

And sometimes that small act of release is the first step toward healing.

Take care of yourselves.

And take care of each other. 💛

#lentreflection2026 #ForgiveToBeFree #HealingIsHoly #LetItGo