The Problem with Forgiveness as a One-Time Event

Is Forgiveness Really a Single Moment?

What does it truly mean to forgive? When the word “forgiveness” surfaces in conversation, it often brings to mind a swift, decisive moment - a quiet nod given to past wounds, a definitive crossing out of old grievances from the ledger of the heart. Yet, in reflecting deeply, one wonders whether forgiveness ever unfolds so neatly, as a single stroke across the canvas of human experience. Much like a river that carves its way through stubborn stone over millennia, the act of forgiving resists our impulse to pin it down to an instant.

We are tempted by the simplicity of a singular event because it offers relief - a neat conclusion to unresolved pain, an end point where the emotional ledger balances. But as Fred Luskin, a pioneering psychologist in forgiveness studies, often reminds us, forgiveness is less a final destination than a journey requiring repeated return visits, like tending to a garden where weeds and blooms alike demand attention season after season.

Perhaps the problem lies in our cultural narratives that idolize “forgiveness moments” as heroic badges rather than the often uneven, cyclical process they actually entail.

Forgiveness as an Ongoing Practice

Consider forgiveness not as a switch flipped once, but as a practice akin to meditation - something one must return to continually despite internal resistance or fluctuating circumstances. Such a practice does not erase the pain immediately; instead, it creates room for the pain to exist alongside compassion, allowing the heart to breathe and shift gradually over time. This approach aligns with the wisdom of Janis Abrahms Spring, whose clinical work emphasizes forgiveness as a dynamic interaction between self-compassion and courageous exploration of hurt.

In this light, forgiveness mirrors the ocean’s tides - never fully receding, never simply arriving in a solitary swell, but ebbing and flowing according to the rhythms of our evolving consciousness.

We see how the expectation of an instantaneous forgiveness event often sets us up for frustration or self-reproach when the feelings of betrayal or resentment recur in unexpected waves. Instead, there is a grace inherent in recognizing forgiveness as a long, unfolding conversation with oneself and one’s past.

The Spiral, Not the Straight Line

One might imagine forgiveness as a spiral staircase - ascending and returning repeatedly around the same core wounds, each revolution bringing us closer to peace, though not necessarily in a linear fashion. This spiral nature resists easy measurement but rewards patience with deep insight about the nature of one’s suffering and the layered textures of the relational dynamics involved.

“Awareness doesn’t need to be cultivated. It needs to be uncovered.”

The Dangers of Forgiving Too Fast

In our earnest desire to heal, we can sometimes rush forgiveness - offering it prematurely as a balm to hasten closure rather than as a sincere embrace of the complexity beneath the surface. This swift "forgiveness" risks becoming a denial of one’s own emotional reality, suppressing legitimate feelings of hurt, anger, or betrayal under the guise of spiritual maturity.

It recalls the paradox Jiddu Krishnamurti pointed to: “The paradox of acceptance is that nothing changes until you stop demanding that it does.” When we demand a change in our emotional experience through forced forgiveness, we bypass authentic acceptance, and in doing so, dilute the life-changing power of genuine letting go.

If you prefer working things out on paper, The Forgiveness Workbook (paid link) gives you guided exercises that take this from theory to practice.

A client once described this as "putting a bandage over a wound that needed to bleed a little first." In this context, forgiveness becomes less of a healing act and more of a premature closure - a transaction that leaves underlying pain untouched and potentially festering beneath the surface.

The Illusion of Closure

We often confuse closure - a culturally prized endpoint - with forgiveness itself. Closure demands a tidy narrative: an apology, a decision to forgive, a letting go. Forgiveness, however, dwells in the messy, tangled spaces that follow the neat bow of closure. It invites us to live with ambiguity, discomfort, and contradiction - qualities we might prefer to avoid but are essential to deep emotional freedom.

The Self and the Circularity of Improvement

In the theater of forgiveness, we are both the actor and the audience, the perpetrator and the witness, the wounded and the healer - entangled in a complex dance that resists simple resolutions. Robert Enright, a pioneer in forgiveness psychology, describes this intertwining beautifully, elucidating that forgiving ourselves complicates the process further yet enriches its depth.

The self engaging in forgiveness is simultaneously the self that was hurt - the same entity carrying traces of pain and the aspiration for peace. This circularity exposes one of the deep challenges we encounter: how does one forgive the self whose flaws and failings are so intimately known and yet so sorely judged?

“The self you’re trying to improve is the same self doing the improving. Notice the circularity.”

This enigma invites us to consider forgiveness not as banishing parts of ourselves or others, but as an ever-deepening dialogue between the fractured and the whole - more like a lifelong negotiation that shifts with every moment’s consciousness.

Embodied Wounds and the Depth of Trauma

One cannot fully address forgiveness without acknowledging how wounds anchor themselves deeply not only in the mind but within the body’s architecture. Bessel van der Kolk, whose work on trauma revelation transformed healing practices, insists that trauma “lives” in the body, shaping responses in subtle and deep ways that defy unidimensional cures.

Kristin Neff's Self-Compassion Workbook (paid link) is a practical guide to treating yourself with the same kindness you'd offer someone you love.

This embodiment complicates the notion of forgiveness as a singular act - because forgiving involves not only a surrender of mental resistance but also a disarming of physical defenses and habitual patterns formed by years or even decades of protective tension.

An analogy might be the way a tree heals after storm damage: the bark will never be exactly as it once was, scars will persist, and yet the tree continues to grow, its strength transformed by what it has endured. Forgiveness, then, is nurturing this continuing growth rather than expecting a full return to an untouched state.

Practical Tenderness in the Process

In outlining forgiveness as continual work, it helps to develop practical tenderness - a mode of being that balances fierce honesty with kindness to oneself and others, without jumping prematurely to absolution. Tara Brach’s approach to Radical Acceptance recommends an embrace of our painful emotions as necessary visitors rather than enemies to be denied or expelled.

Such tenderness encourages staying with discomfort long enough for it to reshape itself, rather than attempting to bypass it through rushed forgiveness. It is a fierce protection of emotional integrity wrapped in the gentleness of compassionate presence.

• Notice when forgiveness feels like a demand rather than a choice.
• Create space for recurring feelings to surface without judgment.
• Return continually to moments of hurt with kindness rather than criticism.
• Engage community or therapeutic guidance to work through complex or layered wounds.

“If your spiritual practice makes you more rigid, it’s not working.”

Holding Contradictions Within: True Freedom

Ultimately, forgiveness is less about reconciling contradictions and more about holding them - an embrace that neither dissolves the pain nor hardens into resentment but lives spaciously between these opposing forces. Alan Watts once spoke of the dance of opposites as the very fabric of existence - neither black nor white but the infinite gradations between.

To engage forgiveness as an ongoing unfolding is to live within paradox - accepting that one can harbor pain while developing peace, or feel betrayal alongside deep compassion. This spaciousness offers a freedom far removed from the binary traps of “forgiven” or “not forgiven.”

When we allow these tensions to coexist without hurried resolution, forgiveness becomes an evolving relationship - less a singular event and more a lifelong commitment to conscious presence around our deepest wounds and their healing.

For a structured approach to this, I often point people toward Radical Forgiveness (paid link) by Colin Tipping - the framework is practical and surprisingly gentle.

Invitation to Being with the Process

So, what might it look like to shift from chasing a singular forgiveness moment to embracing the layered process it truly is? The invitation is to develop a patient witnessing that honors every tremor of hurt and every tentative reach toward peace without rushing to tidy conclusions. We participate in a dance that invites repeated returns and deeper awareness.

For those interested, exploring these themes further can be enriched by visiting the practice of conscious patience or diving into reflections on embracing emotional turbulence.

And should the call arise to explore forgiveness in the context of collective or ancestral trauma, one might find resonance with ancestral wounds and healing.

It is a path where grace resides not in perfection but in faithful return - a returning to oneself with open hands, witnessing both the broken and the becoming.

For those wishing to explore these ideas with further philosophical depth and practical tenderness, visiting kalesh.love offers an expanding fabric of teaching and reflection.

Recommended resource: Forgiving What You Can't Forget by Lysa TerKeurst is a valuable companion for this work. (paid link)