“He who is forgiven much loves much, but he who forgives little loves little.” – an interpretation of Luke 7:47
I am by no means a religious person, but, as I’ve mentioned before, I think there are timeless spiritual lessons and much eternal wisdom to be learned from texts that have been revered through the ages. This particular verse struck me almost dumb (clearly, the opinionated part of me recovered quickly), as I realised that in all this struggle and questing to find and discover love, self-love, myself, and the best in others, one huge essential lesson I have been dodging and dreading is forgiveness.
I have been awful at forgiveness, both of myself and of others. Hurt has always cut me very deeply, and the memory of pain is incredibly visceral; like digital copies of moments in time. My friends can testify to my vivid memory. What they can’t really see is how raw the lashes of hurt remain and for how long.
Of course, I do forgive some things and some people more easily than others. I suppose it is like that for everyone, depending on each person’s particular deep vulnerabilities and wounds.
But I want to be good at love. There was a time when I was simply overflowing with it, and had plenty of love to give. And I want to be good at life. And I think that no one can be good at either without learning when it’s time to drop the weights and lighten the load– no more self-punishment, no more punishing the other person, and no more resentment and hatred. I don’t know why it is so difficult to let go of things in the past, of our images of who we are based on a moment in time. I think it’s that bad habit of letting negative bias, ego and pride run the show that makes us stew in resentment, anger and vengefulness.
And remember: there is always, always more than one side to a story.