Most of us were taught as children that when we do something wrong, we should say “sorry.” And the other person is supposed to reply, “it’s fine.” That exchange keeps the peace, but it doesn’t always touch the deeper hurt. Real forgiveness is not just polite words. It goes beyond manners. Forgiveness is slow work, sometimes messy, and often unfinished.
Peter once asked Jesus a very practical question about this. In Matthew 18:21–22 he says, “Lord, how many times should I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” He probably thought seven was generous. But Jesus answers, “Not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” That’s another way of saying, “Don’t stop forgiving.” Forgiveness is not a single act you check off. It’s a way of life.
And that’s the hard part. Because when you’ve been wounded, you may want quick closure. You may want the other person to admit they were wrong and fix everything. But forgiveness doesn’t always follow that script. Sometimes the apology never comes. Sometimes the damage can’t be repaired. And still, Jesus points us toward forgiveness.
So what does that look like in daily life?
It starts with truth. Forgiveness doesn’t mean pretending you’re okay when you’re not. If someone betrayed you, lied to you, or cut you down, forgiveness doesn’t erase that. You don’t have to say, “It’s fine,” when it isn’t fine. God doesn’t ask us to lie about our wounds. Instead, forgiveness begins with naming what really happened. Naming the pain, and then offering it up to God.
After that comes the choice. Forgiveness is not a feeling you wait for. It’s a decision to release your grip on resentment. Some days you may make that choice and feel lighter right away. Other days, bitterness sneaks back in. And that’s when forgiveness becomes a daily practice. It’s saying again, “Lord, I choose to forgive. Help my heart catch up.” That repetition—the seventy-seven times Jesus talked about—isn’t weakness. It’s faithfulness.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. We may never forget the moment of betrayal, or the sting of someone’s words. Memory is part of being human. But forgiveness changes what we do with that memory. Instead of replaying it as a weapon, we surrender it to God. Instead of letting it poison our thoughts, we let God hold it with us.
And forgiveness doesn’t always restore things to the way they were. Sometimes the relationship can be healed. Other times, trust has to be rebuilt slowly, or boundaries have to be set. Forgiveness isn’t the same as reconciliation. It doesn’t erase wisdom or remove the need for safety. What it does is open a door so that the wrong done to us no longer has the final word.
This shows up in the ordinary moments of life. You forgive the driver who cuts you off on your way to work. You forgive the friend who forgot your birthday. And then it shows up in harder places. A spouse breaks trust. A family member uses harsh words that cut deep. A colleague takes credit for your work. In those harder places, forgiveness might be a process that takes months or years. And that’s okay. Forgiveness is not about speed. It’s about staying open to God’s work in you.
So how do we practice it? Prayer is one way. And prayer doesn’t have to be long. It can be as short as a breath: “God, help me forgive.” Or “Lord, I give this to you.” Some people find that blessing the one who hurt them shifts their own heart. It may start small—“God, do good in their life.” Even if the words feel forced, over time God can use them to soften the edges of your hurt.
Forgiveness frees both sides. The person who hurt you may never know they’re forgiven. They may never change. But forgiveness breaks the hold their actions have on you. It unclenches your fist. It makes space for God’s mercy to move, both in them and in you.
When Jesus tells Peter to forgive “seventy-seven times,” he isn’t telling us to keep score. He’s inviting us into a rhythm of grace. Forgiveness becomes less about one big decision and more about daily steps. Some days those steps are tiny. Other days they’re bold. But each one points us toward freedom.
So in daily life, forgiveness might look like taking a breath instead of snapping back. It might look like choosing not to rehearse an old wound yet again. It might look like praying for someone you’d rather avoid. And slowly, it begins to look like Jesus—who forgave even from the cross, and who never stops forgiving us.
