A Joyous Perspective on the 'Good Pain' of Forgivness

It's another Friday Night Thought Tale Hour with the Henderson's, and I'm thinking about forgiveness. We have often heard it said, "To err is human, to forgive is divine." Indeed, it is a straightforward thing to make a mistake, and as humans, we can be motivated by forces that seem bigger than ourselves to do things that hurt or bring division to lives.

We all understand that feeling when we are faced with the need to ask someone to forgive us. It's a sobering moment for those who really and truly are sorry for an erroneous act. We see those facing us as in a great place of control, as their act of deciding to provide forgiveness is out of our hands. In that way, it's very Godlike in it's truest form.

But because we are not Divinity, but human, it doesn't feel great most of the time to mete out forgiveness. In fact, it pretty much always hurts.


Forgiveness is a form of suffering. 

Yes, you read that right.

Most of us talk about forgiveness and always speak of how wonderful it is. But there is a reason so many cannot seem to forgive; it requires a willingness to suffer. 

When people commit an offense against us, our natural human inclination is to commit a crime against them. Not just any offense, but an offense that is bigger, more visible, and one that hurts far more.

We call this revenge.

It seems less painful to us in the beginning stages.

We tell ourselves that justice has been served and believe this because deep inside of us, it feels delicious to get even. Except, with revenge, we did not get even, we got ahead. So vengeance will come back around to us. We will receive payback, and then we will pay it back again. It never ends. But sometimes, it still hurts less. It just becomes a game.

Another option is to nurse a grudge.

Someone hurt us, and we will forever punish him or her, never forgiving. Something inside of us believes that withholding forgiveness will allow us to control the situation, to be 'godlike,' but it doesn’t. It slowly kills us. So slow, that it still hurts less, as we slowly get boiled.

When we have been wounded by another, we want things made right. Something has been broken, and we want it fixed. Forgiveness offers such a repair but lays its demands on the one who has been wounded. It asks for us to absorb the pain of the acts committed against us. But unlike the other two options,

it's a good pain.

Pain that ends with delivering freedom to ourselves. We no longer have to find a way to achieve justice or hold onto a debt. We open the door for an advanced form of relationship with the one who wronged us. It may never be the same, but it could be better. Only forgiveness will allow you to open up that opportunity.

Yes, we also deliver freedom to the one who hurt us. And it may hurt for a very long time to see them living free of our revenge or grudge. But the simplicity of living unrestricted of resentment and anger is a better pain. 

But does this make it any easier? I write these words and believe them deeply, and yet still recognize the agony of forgiveness. I've lived it. Maybe you are reading this and know exactly what I mean. You have forgiven someone who has wounded you deeply, and in doing so felt like your soul was torn in two.

But you live free, and not torn. You are whole.

So here's to suffering well in the good pain of forgiveness. For our cocktail tonight, I've made something I call "Sweet Forgiveness." May it ease the pains involved in making something right and remind us of how good it feels to be relaxed and free. CHEERS, FRIENDS!


Joy's 'Sweet Forgiveness' Cocktail**

2 oz White Rum
1 oz Lapponia Lakka Cloudberry liqueur
1 oz White Cream de Menthe
2 oz Orange Juice
1/2 oz of fresh lemon juice
Splash of Simple Sugar

Place all ingredients in a shaker with ice. Shake. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a chocolate covered cherry.

**Never drive after drinking.