Then Peter approaching asked him, “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times." // Matthew 18:21-22

I remember when I started to pray for my father. It felt strange to me, a sort of forced truce after a lifetime of desertion. And the truth is that I didn’t necessarily want to do it. It was easier to hang onto the pain he caused, to let the anger sink in just a little deeper. But I did it anyway—I prayed through his past drug addiction, his weaknesses, his absence from my life.

It began as a superficial way to place a bandaid on something that had been ripping at my heart all of my life, but it ended as so much more. It ended in forgiveness and understanding and love. It ended with a relationship that I almost completely missed out on—one that, on the surface, came too late, but when closely analyzed, came at just the right time.

It’s because of that late blooming relationship that I learned true forgiveness. I learned to see the world through another’s eyes and to walk in love toward understanding.

And it all started with a begrudgingly choked-up prayer.

Forgiveness is a tricky thing to master. It isn’t a switch you flip or a thought you suddenly have. It is a deep and unrelenting pursuit toward love that often hurls open entire decades worth of pain.

Today’s Gospel calls us to forgiveness. It calls us to compassion for the debts done unto us.

I don’t know what sort of debts you’re holding onto or what pain you are ready to let go of, but I do know that the journey toward forgiveness often starts with a begrudgingly choked-up prayer. Start there. He will guide you through the rest.

[bctt tweet="He will guide you through the rest. //@IamBritCal " username="blessedisshe__"]

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