Powerless Forgiveness

Part 1: Selfish Apologies

We accept the belief that forgiveness is a necessary component of a healthy, satisfying relationship. But if that's true, why don't apologies always work? Why are offended people sometimes unsatisfied after an apology has been offered? Why are the words "I said I'm sorry. What more do you want?!" so familiar? Because motive makes all the difference. An apology can be filled with all the right words but remain powerless if it is offered for the wrong reason.

An effective apology is motivated by a desire to correct an offense against someone else; to bring resolution to the hurt we've caused them. But apologies are too often used as a quick fix for our uneasiness. When we focus more on our own discomfort than on the distress of the other person, our apology is selfish, and selfish apologies are usually ineffective.

Last week, I stayed up late three nights in a row playing video games with my 19-year old daughter. My wife, Sharon, prefers me going to bed the same time she does, but doesn't begrudge our late night game play. On the fourth night, when I was tired and ready to go to bed at her earlier time, she informed me that she was taking work off the next day and so was hoping we could stay up together for a while. I was already making my exit when this conversation started. Aware of her disappointment, I stood across the room and explained that I was ready for sleep. She looked dejected and hoped I'd change my mind, but I was honestly tired and wanted to go to bed. And so I did. She decided to do the same.

The conversation continued as we sat in bed. Sharon explained her anticipation of spending some casual time with me that night and the hurt of realizing I did not want the same. 

"I'm sorry you feel disappointed," I finally said.

Her response was quick. "I hate it when you apologize for how I feel."

"Well, I don't think I did anything wrong. I thought going to bed earlier tonight would actually be a good thing. I didn't realize your plans had changed. If you think I did anything wrong, we can talk about it. But the fact is, I didn't intent to hurt you and I'm sorry if you feel that way." That pretty much ended the conversation and I soon fell asleep.

But the next morning, I woke feeling unsettled. I pictured my wife sitting sadly on the couch the night before and this question immediately came to mind: Whose relief were you most interested in? The answer was obvious. Despite the fact that everything I had said in my defense was true, and even though I honestly regretted her sadness, my apology to her was powerless because from the very moment I was aware of her hurt, my responses were primary driven by a desire for my own relief (from tiredness, from feeling guilty, from having to spend too much time trying to comfort her, from potential conflict). In those moments, I had actually been moving away from my wife, not towards her.

If I had been concerned about her relief, not just my own, I would have probably returned to the couch to be close to her while we talked. I would have touched her. I would have assured her that time with her was important to me, too, and maybe suggest protecting our weekend to make sure that would happen. Maybe I would have even suggested watching a 30-minute show we'd both enjoy. The specific solution would not have mattered as much to her as my intention to provide comfort.

Maybe that question is a good one for you to consider when asking for forgiveness. Whose relief are you most interested in? Yours, or theirs? It's not wrong to want relief for yourself, but the power of your apology will be measured by how much you focus on what the other person needs from you.

By the way, failure never has to be the end of our story. Once I realized the inadequacy of my response, I talked to Sharon about it. I admitted that I had been more focused on my relief that hers. I said I was sorry wanted to keep figuring out how to love her better. That time, the apology worked.

---

Part 2: Penitence Without Pardon

A self-focussed apology is seldom satisfying to the recipient. But forgiveness-seekers aren't the only ones who can sap the power out of forgiveness; forgiveness-givers can be selfish, too.

We hesitate when it comes to pointing out the short-comings of an offended person. After all, why should anything be required of the victim? Shouldn't the offender carry the full responsibility for making things right?

Absolutely... if the only concerned is for justice or recompense. But if there is to be genuine forgiveness, the offended individual must be willing to consider the offender's burden of shame and give them permission to let go of it. 

I hear the objections: What if the offender doesn't ask for forgiveness? What if there is no remorse? What if the offender isn't even around anymore? What if the offense was huge (extreme abuse, acts of violence, etc.)? Those are fair questions that demand thoughtful consideration, but this article deals with a very specific condition: the need for forgiveness in intimate relationships. Intimacy requires forgiveness, and forgiveness requires compassion.

Of course, compassion is not the first response that rises when we are hurt by someone we love. On the contrary, most of us react by either attacking or retreating. Our acts of self-protection are likely to continue until we believe the offender feels enough remorse. But it is at this very point that we may get stuck, especially when the wound feels deep. In response to our pain, we may limit our vulnerability by requiring ongoing penitence without offering hope for pardoning. We punish by withholding our forgiveness.

Last year, a married couple came to see me because they had not been able to move past the husband's affair that had occurred over 10 years ago. I was the latest in a series of counselors they had seen. After a few sessions, it became clear that the wife had no intention of granting forgiveness to her husband. Despite the fact that he had confessed, repented, and never returned to that behavior again, she continued to focus on his betrayal. Her unforgiveness allowed her to stay in control and minimized the risk of being hurt again. But they were miserable; their marriage was full of conflict and void of intimacy.

I finally asked her, "What could your husband say or do that would allow you to begin moving toward forgiveness?" She just stared at me, expressionless, and finally said, "Nothing, because he can't undo the past." At least she was being honest, but her marriage was doomed.

This pattern of requiring penitence without granting pardon can show up even when the transgressions are relatively small. Little offenses build up into big resentments, and the relationship gets stuck if the offended spouse never grants a pardon. Instead of giving the message, I'm willing to let go of this and leave it in the past, the hurt spouse communicates any of the following: 

• Withholding forgiveness is a good way to punish you.
• I'll let you know when you've done enough to earn my forgiveness.
• Forgiving you just gives you the right to hurt me again.
• I'll forgive, but I won't forget... and I'll keep reminding you of that.
• In future conflicts, reminders of past offenses are fair weapons for me to use against you.

Is it okay to want to see contrition? Of course. Can it take time to truly forgive? Yes, and deep hurts often take more time to heal. But consider your partner's relief, not just your own. Don't get stuck in your pain. Find your way to I forgive you.

Tim Tedder