There's Still Value in Forgiveness and Redemption

Even after leaving evangelicalism.

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If you were raised in a Christian household with evangelical leanings, as I was, you probably learned that you were a dirty sinner and so was everyone else and that only Jesus’ death on the cross could save you from hellfire. I no longer believe in this kind of theology, and in hindsight, I find it strange that any religion (including mine) would immediately choose to teach children that they are products of evil right off the bat, and that they will be subjected to hellfire should they not repeat certain words (a “sinner’s prayer” in my former denomination; baptism and other similar verbal conversions in others) and have enough faith and listen obediently to every word of the American English Bible with hundreds of thousands of translations over a period of 2000 years. All for a “loving” God.

“Strange” isn’t the right word — I find it abjectly abusive and mentally damaging to tell children that they themselves are all inherently bad, and that actions that don’t hurt others (i.e., homosexuality, gender identity/expression, thoughtcrimes) can still lead to an eternity in flames. My family, while conservative, was still not as fundamentalist as say, the Duggars, and encouraged theological discussions about things like this, but the ideas STILL caused me great anxiety and depression: I was a horrible person, I was evil, I deserved to die, I wasn’t a good enough Christian, if I did or thought XYZ I was in danger of hell, etc. There was little room for interpretation, and not much focus on the message of Christ outside of atonement.

Today’s exvangelicals (at least, the ones who still believe) have by and large rejected a belief in hell as a necessary requirement for Christianity, and many of us have rejected the modern take (quite modern, even by conservative theological standards) of atonement theology as well. It’s not to say that Christ’s death was meaningless, for it wasn’t: all life lost to those in power is tragedy, and his example was one we can still learn from.

This also isn’t to say that all humans are good, either. In fact, many humans do evil deeds — you can’t look around at the way our country engages in planet-destructing behavior, the way people hoard wealth or defend those that do, the way we build up walls for ourselves as individuals and see the only meaningful people as those who are related to us, and sometimes not even then, and come to the conclusion that all humans are good.

They’re not. They are driven by greed and selfishness, and yet today’s Christians treat even their own concepts of salvation as being reduced down to fucking the right people at the right time, along with other twisted concepts that ultimately encourage sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and racism, while all other sins that actually harm the planet and our fellow humans are forgivable. Meh. I watched myself lose instant credibility as a Christian once I came out as polyamorous; even to other “progressive Christians.” It’s still a trapped mindset of a Christianity that hinders us, rather than liberates us, even sometimes from churches who claim “all people are welcome!” but then again, not really. I could be a billionaire dumping chemicals into drinking water, and as long as I was monogamous, I doubt my Christianity would be challenged as much as it has been.

Because of this kind of hypocrisy, a lot of exvangelicals also struggle with the idea of forgiveness. In atonement theology, Jesus forgave us whether we asked him to or not, because after all we are evil, even as children without full grasp of our bodies or minds yet… and we are told in turn to forgive others, no matter what, because after all, isn’t that what Jesus would do? Jesus forgave sinners. Jesus gave people a second chance. In some denominations, a chance at a literal second life. And now, the same is expected of us. Some Christians believe you yourself will go to hell if you have not forgiven people!

People who have been mentally, physically, sexually, emotionally, and spiritually abused are often told to forgive their abusers, oftentimes family members who others insist should still be part of their lives, which is extraordinarily traumatizing. Jesus is then placed over our heads as dangling carrot, the reason why we should subject ourselves to people who may hurt us again, whether there’s been sincere apologies and personal growth or not.

Those of us who have been through therapy know just how much a person’s presence or offhand comment can hurt, or how some people refuse to change no matter if we forgive them or not, so asking us to be around them is truly asking us to relive some of our worst experiences, and for what? Damage our psyches for what? For forgiveness? And if someone hurt my children or took the lives of my loved ones, I should just get over it because Jesus wants me to do it? That’s an incredibly fucked up concept for lots of us, and I can see why.

I could go into the history of why forgiveness is an important concept for Jesus: his desire to unite his oppressed people against the oppressive Roman Empire and the petty squabbles that got in the way of that unification, for personal freedom from the painful thoughts that consume us, or because hypocritical religious leaders used people’s “sins” as a way to exclude them from the community at large, and isolation was almost certainly a death sentence, and Jesus was against this.

Here’s what I can tell you from a very pathos, emotional, and personal point of view, however: forgiveness does heal. It does. There are people in my life who have hurt me very much, but seething in anger about it never helped me. My life would not be better if those who have harmed me were dead or hurt, and I do not wish it. I wish the opposite; I wish for joy and goodness and light to be poured into their lives, which sounds very woo but is very true. I don’t even necessarily wish for them to realize they were wrong and ask me for MY forgiveness! The damage is already done, and none of us can change the past anyway. Why linger in it?

And, it’s twofold. I myself have hurt people, and will continue to do so. I am not perfect, and as someone who has been in therapy for a lot of my life, I am acutely aware of that. I can only try to be better. I can’t try to be good all the time. I will never succeed at it, and dwelling in my failure will only lead to my inability to progress as a human being. I try to make amends, but sometimes the situation isn’t black and white, or the hurt is too great and they must move on. I do not demand their forgiveness or their presence in my life. In fact, I prefer their absence to their lifelong resentment.

And yes, there are people I keep my space from. I have not been subjected to big-A abuse or big-T trauma in my life as others might have been, so I only speak for myself here. There are people I know who believe things I find evil, who engage in politics I find reprehensible, and who say hurtful words to me and cannot be bothered to stop. I choose not to be around those people. But from afar, I try to understand. I try to empathize. I try to forgive.

Forgiveness isn’t a one-and-done act, as it was taught to me as an evangelical Christian. Jesus died once, “saved” us once, and all we have to do is ask once, and we’re forgiven. Forgiveness, for me, is a constant daily act. As I continue in therapy, as present situations remind me of past ones, as old feelings bubble to the surface out of nowhere and shock me with their power, I fight against it so that I can continue to have a joyful and peaceful life without the negative things weighing me down. As someone with multiple mental illnesses including depression, this is difficult, but it is vital for me to do this. I cannot reside in a place of sadness and anger toward people who have hurt me. And no, nothing positive comes of my misery. I’ve tried that already.

For me, forgiveness has become everything. It has allowed me to love people who have hurt me, but are still good people — my partners, my parents, my family, my friends. It has allowed me to have longstanding relationships with people who forgive me of my flaws and sins in return. And most of all, it has allowed me to forgive myself, one thing that has always been out of reach for me the way that simply praying “Dear Jesus, I ask forgiveness for my sins, amen!” wasn’t. If the great majority of Christian theologians are to be believed, God’s forgiveness is easy to get. People’s forgiveness can be, too. It’s self-forgiveness that is nearly impossible to reach. It’s self-forgiveness that has healed me.

I also believe, on the other side of forgiveness, in redemption. I’m a very left person, a very progressive person, but you might be surprised to hear that by and large, I dislike cancel culture — especially when it’s applied to people who aren’t elected politicians or wealthy celebrities. I don’t think people are the sum of their worst moments, and as a former conservative and constantly evolving human, I think people can change their minds and behavior if they are willing. I’ve experienced this on so many levels from myself and from others that it is impossible for me not to believe it. I am a cynic on a lot of things, but sometimes, I still have faith in people.

That doesn’t mean I’m against accountability. Yes, fire the racist. Yes, that person should lose their Netflix special. Yes, that family member should no longer have access to people’s children. Yes, you don’t have to speak to anybody who caused you great amounts of pain. And while I have massive problems with the industrial prison complex and penal punishment in general, yes, there are genuinely some people who should be kept away from the rest of society in one way or another if all else has failed.

But are ALL human beings worthy of love? As a Christian, I think so. And if that is the case, perhaps they are also worthy of real, accountable, actual redemption. And maybe we can learn to forgive ourselves, or if we choose, others who have hurt us. The past is no place to dwell. It informs us of our present, but it doesn’t have to determine how much joy we are allowed to have in the future.

Maybe it’s controversial, but I think there’s still a place for forgiveness and redemption in our lives. If that’s something I learned from the message of Jesus, it’s a good one. Thank God, I think.