A Reflection on Forgiveness and Following the Lord

Just like the wheat that still grows toward the light, grace always finds a way.

This week I sat and watched the memorial for Charlie Kirk. It was a heavy moment, but also one that carried light. His wife, Erika, stood and forgave the young man who had taken Charlie’s life. I wasn’t shocked when I heard her say it. What struck me was hearing reporters, bloggers, and influencers amazed, almost confused, that she could forgive so quickly. But if you knew Charlie and Erika, it made perfect sense. Forgiveness was in their nature because they were one with the Lord. Forgiveness doesn’t mean excusing evil or pretending nothing happened. It means refusing to let hatred take root where Christ already reigns.

That moment stirred something deep in me. It reminded me of how often I pray for that kind of relationship with God. The kind of closeness where forgiveness isn’t forced but natural. I confess often that I don’t feel like I’m putting God first enough in my life. My priorities slip. My heart gets pulled in too many directions. Yet moments like this remind me of what I long for. To forgive like Jesus. To love like Him.

When Erika forgave, she wasn’t minimizing the sin. She wasn’t saying the act was small or acceptable. She was saying her heart was already surrendered to God. And when your heart is His, hate has no room to grow.

Scripture gives us these same pictures. On the cross, in agony, Jesus prayed, “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). Even as nails pierced His hands and feet, He chose mercy. He didn’t hold back forgiveness until they deserved it. He gave it freely.

The first martyr, Stephen, did the same. As stones rained down on him, his last words echoed Christ: “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” (Acts 7:60). His witness reminds us that forgiveness is not weakness. It is strength. It is victory. It is the power of God alive in the human heart.

And then there is Joseph. Sold into slavery by his own brothers, imprisoned unfairly, forgotten for years, he still forgave. When he finally stood before them in Egypt, he told them, “Even though you meant harm to me, God meant it for good” (Genesis 50:20). Instead of revenge, he offered care, food, and protection. That kind of forgiveness changes generations.

The Church has carried these examples forward. One of the most striking in modern times was Saint John Paul II. After being shot and nearly killed, he visited his attacker in prison. He didn’t arrive with anger. He arrived with mercy. He reached out his hand and forgave the man who tried to end his life. That image still speaks to the world today.

When you look at these stories, it might feel like forgiveness is only for the big moments. Murders, betrayals, attempted assassinations. But that’s not the whole picture. The big moments shine so brightly because they show us how forgiveness is meant to spill into the little ones.

If Jesus forgave the ones hammering nails into His flesh, how can I not forgive the person who cut me off in traffic? If Stephen forgave while being stoned, how can I hold on to bitterness over a harsh word at work? If Joseph forgave his brothers who sold him, how can I stay angry at a family member who forgot to call? If John Paul II forgave a bullet, how can I withhold forgiveness over gossip? And if Erika can forgive the young man who killed her husband, how can I hold back forgiveness from anyone who has done me wrong in my own life?

And Jesus taught us this daily. Every time we pray the Our Father, we say, “forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Forgiveness is not an option we pick and choose. It is woven into the very way He told us to pray.

The truth is, every act of forgiveness matters. Big or small, it clears away hate. It makes space for love.

A priest friend told me once that unforgiveness is like a clenched fist. When we’re angry, when we refuse to let go, our hand stays tight, gripping pain like a weapon. But the tighter we clench, the less we can hold. God wants to give us peace, but a closed hand can’t receive it. Forgiveness is opening that hand. It doesn’t mean forgetting. It doesn’t mean saying what happened was right. It means letting go so we can hold something better. And nowhere is that more true than when we come to the altar. An open hand is ready to receive the Body of Christ. A forgiven heart is ready to be filled with His grace.

That’s why forgiveness is the ultimate tool for becoming more like Jesus. It is His own way of loving enemies. It doesn’t stop with the dramatic stories. It moves into daily life. Into marriages, workplaces, friendships, parishes. Into the quiet corners of our hearts where grudges hide.

I’ve noticed in my own life that when I don’t forgive, resentment grows fast. It takes up space until I can’t see anything else. But when I forgive, even in small ways, the hate has no room to live. Forgiveness empties the heart of poison and fills it with grace.

I think that’s what I saw in Erika. A heart so surrendered that forgiveness wasn’t an option she had to weigh. It was simply the overflow of walking with Jesus. That’s the kind of heart I want. That’s the kind of relationship with the Lord I keep praying for.

You might be carrying something big right now. Or maybe it’s something small. Maybe it’s the kind of hurt that’s been replaying in your mind for weeks, or maybe it’s one that still stings from years ago. Whatever it is, the invitation is the same. Open your hand. Let go. Forgive.

Jesus never said it would be easy. He said it would be holy. He said it would be His way. “Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). That command is not optional. It is the Gospel in action.

So, here’s where I want to leave you this week. Take a quiet moment and ask yourself: Is there someone I need to forgive? It might be a deep wound or a daily irritation. Either way, bring it to prayer. Whisper their name to God. Ask for the grace to forgive, even if you don’t feel it yet. Open your hand. Let Him place peace in it.

Because when you forgive, you are free. You are not held by hate. You are held by Him.