I thought about him. I was reminded of him all around town. I saw him in different people. Some had his name – Matt. Others looked like him in some way or spoke like him. Even the slightest resemblance turned my stomach into a knot. I wasn’t willing to forgive him. Weeks and months passed. Then a year. Was I never going to be free of this? The resentment, guilt, and anger drained the life out of everything I did. I blamed myself. I read books. I talked to anyone who would listen. I ran. I walked the beach. I drove for miles to nowhere. I screamed into my pillow at night. I prayed. I did everything I knew how to do.
Then one morning at church the sermon was on the healing power of forgiveness. The pastor invited everyone to close their eyes and locate someone in their lives they had not forgiven for whatever reason. Matt. There he was again in my mind. Next, the pastor asked us to look at whether or not we’d be willing to forgive that person. I wanted to leave the room, but something kept me in my seat.
How could I forgive a person like Matt? He hurt me. Incredibly. So I turned my attention to other people in my life. My roommate. She’d be easy to forgive. Or my friend, Kyle. Or my sister. Anyone but Matt. But there was no escape. The name, and the image of his face, remained. Then a voice within gently asked, “Are you ready to let go of this? To release him? To forgive yourself, too?” I turned hot, then cold. I started to shake. I was certain that everyone around me could hear my heart beating.
Yes, I was willing. I couldn’t hold on to my anger any longer. It was killing me. In that moment, an incredible shift occurred within me. I simply let go. I can’t describe it. I don’t know what happened or what allowed me at that moment to do something I had resisted so strongly. All I know is that for the first time in over a year I completely surrendered to the Holy Spirit. I released my grip on my ex-fiance (Matt), on myself. I let go of the rage and resentment – just like that.
Within seconds, energy rushed through every cell of my body. My mind became alert, my heart lightened. Suddenly I realized that as long as I separated myself from even one person, I separated myself from God. How self-righteous I had been. How arrogant. How judgmental. How important it had been for me to be right, no matter what the cost. And it had cost me plenty – friendships, dreams, my health, my spontaneity, my aliveness. I had no idea what was next, but it didn’t matter. My heart was better.
I effortlessly wrote him a letter the next day. “Dear Matt,” I began. “On Sunday morning…” and I proceeded to tell him what had occurred during church. I also told him how I had hated him for what he had done to our relationship and to me, and, as a result, how I had denied both of us the healing power of forgiveness. I apologized for my hateful thoughts. I signed my name, and then ripped it up and threw it away. I was relieved and invigorated. I needed to write that for me but then I needed to put it behind me. I was free.
