Forgiveness, Grace, and Beginning Again

As 2025 draws to a close, I want to offer some reflections to nourish the heart—an invitation to soften, release, and begin again. 

Many today carry a distinct heaviness. With all that’s happening in our world, it’s easy to feel helpless, overwhelmed, even numb. The holidays add another layer, bringing joy and connection for some, and loneliness, stress, or grief for others. Many of us experience a mix of it all.

As we stand at the threshold of a new year, forgiveness feels especially relevant. It’s one of the most misunderstood—and potentially freeing—capacities of the heart.

 

What Forgiveness Is, And What It Isn’t

Forgiveness isn’t forgetting what happened. It’s not excusing harm, condoning injustice, or pretending something didn’t occur. It doesn’t ask us to bypass anger, which can carry discernment. Forgiveness also doesn’t require reconciliation, or staying in a harmful situation. We can forgive and still draw firm boundaries, or choose to step away.

Rather, forgiveness is the intention to release ourselves from the grip of resentment—to no longer be defined or consumed by the past. It’s an inner movement toward freedom, a way of stewarding our vitality and keeping the heart available to life.

The Buddhist tradition offers a vivid image: resentment is like gripping a hot coal, burning ourselves as we prepare to hurl it at someone else. We suffer first. Forgiveness doesn’t erase what happened; it loosens its hold on us.

Parenthood has become one of my greatest teachers in forgiveness, keeping me humble and revealing how rupture and repair are woven into the flow of love. In the daily frictions of family life, forgiveness helps me breathe through regret, offer grace, and stay open rather than shut down or harden.

I find that meditating—even for short periods—also offers something essential: a way to pause, take stock, and realign with my deeper intentions. Again and again, it reminds me I don’t need to be a perfect husband or father; I just need to be willing to show up.

 

Forgiveness as a Living Practice

These small, intimate moments point to something larger: forgiveness isn’t something we do once. It’s a living practice with many dimensions that often stretches us. 

We can aim to forgive others, even when we can’t quite get there, whether or not they can acknowledge the impact of their actions. We may seek forgiveness for ways we’ve caused pain, offering to listen and repair. We may work to forgive ourselves (often the most difficult), which requires honesty and tenderness without self-hatred. 

And then there’s the possibility of forgiving life itself: for loss, illness, injustice, broken dreams. As Joanna Macy reminded us, our pain for the world is inseparable from our love for it.

This matters not only personally, but collectively. There are so many situations—locally, domestically, internationally—where cycles of trauma, grief, and retaliation continue to devastate lives. When we are bound by old wounds, our responses shrink and harden. Forgiveness on its own can’t solve these intractable conflicts, but it can help restore access to deeper resources and support responses grounded in clarity and love. 

Forgiveness can’t be mandated or forced. It’s never a substitute for safety, justice, or accountability, especially amid ongoing violence or occupation. I’m not suggesting that those actively in danger can simply “forgive” their oppressors. 

Forgiveness isn’t something we decide to do and check off a list. It’s a process that unfolds in its own time. It begins with being honest about what’s happened—acknowledging harm, opening to anger, grief, or regret. As James Baldwin wrote, “People cling to their hates so stubbornly because once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with the pain.” Forgiveness asks us to feel what we’d rather avoid—at a pace that honors the nervous system. 

Yet even the smallest intention can set things in motion. Forgiveness can begin as simply as, “I hope that one day I can forgive.” Or even, “I’m not ready to forgive yet, but I want to.” That quiet willingness itself can be enough to start the process.

 

Letting Go Gently

As the year closes, if you feel drawn to pause and listen more deeply, I invite you to check out this short talk and guided meditation on forgiveness—a space to sit with what’s unfinished and explore where the heart might be ready to let go.

We don’t need to wait for a new year to let go and begin again. The invitation to clear the slate is always here. But moments of transition like this can help us remember what matters.

However this year has left you feeling—relieved, weary, grateful, uncertain—may we each find the courage to see clearly, the tenderness to forgive what we’re ready to release, and the steadiness to move forward with our hearts a little lighter than before.

In kindness,
Oren

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Photo by Rachel Shiyah-Satullo
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