Matthew 6:14-21 (link)
Oops!
You’ve probably heard the saying, “Orthodoxy isn’t a religion; it’s a way of life.” That sounds profound, doesn’t it? But buried within that statement is an unspoken truth—yes, it’s a way of life, but no one ever said this way of life is easy.
In fact, if you’re truly trying to walk the Orthodox path, it might just be the hardest thing you’ve ever done.
And now, as we stand on the threshold of Great Lent, we peer into the vast chasm of its demands. A season of fasting, prayer, repentance, and countless church services stretches before us, and suddenly, we feel a bit overwhelmed.
How will we fit more services into an already overcrowded schedule?
How will we carve out time for deeper personal prayer when family life never slows down?
How will we prepare meals that align with the fast while juggling work, school, and everything in between?
But of all the challenges Lent presents, perhaps none is as terrifying, as weighty, as the demand to forgive.
Ugh!
Today, our Lord speaks words that land like a thunderclap:
“If you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father also will forgive you; but if you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”
And St. Maximus the Confessor doesn’t let us off the hook either:
“He who does not forgive others breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass.”
That bridge, of course, is the bridge to salvation. The only way forward is forgiveness.
But let’s be honest—real forgiveness is hard. It’s one thing to say the words, to tell someone, “I forgive you.” It’s another thing entirely to actually forgive in your heart.
Because even when we say the words, the hurt lingers. The wounds remain. And almost instinctively, we want to keep our distance. To hold on—just a little bit—to that grudge. To build walls instead of bridges.
And what if the person we need to forgive is toxic? What if they are manipulative? What if they are abusive?
Maybe, by some miracle, we manage to dig deep and let go of our resentment. But what if we know—without a shadow of a doubt—that they won’t change? That they will continue to wound us, to take advantage, to twist our forgiveness into another opportunity to hurt?
Does forgiveness mean resigning ourselves to an endless cycle of pain? Are we called to be doormats in the name of Christ?
That, my friends, is where we find ourselves—staring down one of the most difficult tensions of the Christian life.
Aha!
Forgiveness is not about making ourselves perpetual victims. The Fathers stress forgiveness, but also wisdom and discernment. St. Basil warns, “If you see that he is incorrigible, do not allow yourself to suffer further harm.” (Letter 156) St. John Chrysostom adds, “We must love even our enemies, but we are not commanded to put ourselves in their hands to be devoured.” (Homily 5 on 2nd Thessalonians)
Forgiveness unburdens our hearts—it prevents bitterness from taking root. But it does not mean ignoring reality. If someone repents, glory to God! But if they persist in wrongdoing, we are not required to remain in their grasp.
Boundaries matter. They do not contradict forgiveness but complete it. Even Christ withdrew from danger (John 8:59, Matthew 12:14-15). If He exercised discernment, so should we. Forgiveness cleanses the heart. Boundaries guard the soul.
Whee!
So we forgive—but with wisdom. Healthy boundaries do not reject Christ’s command to love; they fulfill it. Love does not indulge sin or enable harm.
St. John Climacus warns, “Evil company corrupts good habits.” (The Ladder, Step 4) Boundaries protect our peace, keeping us steadfast in prayer. St. Isaiah cautions, “Guard your heart… There is no virtue in allowing yourself to be destroyed by another’s sins.” (Philokalia, Vol. 1)
This is liberating! Forgiveness breaks the chains of resentment, and boundaries free us from toxic cycles. They help us:
- Focus on God – Protecting our hearts from distractions.
- Maintain peace – Guarding against emotional turmoil.
- Prevent sin – Refusing to enable wrongdoing.
St. Maximus sums it up: “We must love all, but we must not be in communion with all.” (Centuries on Love, 2.7) We are called to love and forgive—but not to surrender ourselves to harm.
Yeah!
So, what’s next? Freedom.
In Christ, we are no longer bound—by resentment or fear. He has stripped the powers and principalities (Colossians 2:15), exposing what once enslaved us. Now, we live differently.
We love—not naively, but wisely. We forgive—not in weakness, but in His strength. We set boundaries—not selfishly, but to keep evil from spreading. And we walk forward—leaving behind the burdens of the past, embracing both forgiveness and discernment.
We are no longer slaves. Not to sin, not to others’ expectations, not to the wounds of the past. In Christ, we are free.
And now, we are called to love as Christ loves—with a love that is strong, discerning, and unstoppable.
Amen.