All spiritual traditions agree that forgiveness is essential and transformative. There's just one problem: They don't tell us how. After four raw years, salvaged only by the daily spiritual practice of sacred journaling and personal prayer, I wanted to know how.

So I opened my heart and my soul and asked God to show me how to forgive. It's that simple — dangerous and powerful, perhaps, but simple. One morning I wrote in my sacred journal: "Dear God, I am ready to forgive. I want to forgive. Show me how and I will do it." Well, ask and ye shall receive. Every book I encountered after that, every conversation, every song on the radio, every article on the internet, every lesson at church: forgiveness, forgiveness, forgiveness.

Every day in my journal I asked God what it all meant. Hey, God, I heard this, what does it mean? Why should I forgive anyway? Didn't my ex-husband do lots of unforgivable things? What am I supposed to be learning? What more do I need to know? When will it all fit together? How will I know I'm ready?

Exploring forgiveness in daily dialogue with Spirit, I made some interesting discoveries. I figured out what forgiveness is and isn't. I discovered what I needed to forgive and — more important — why. I felt comfortable with what I was learning, but then came that bugaboo: how. Even if I knew what and where, and even why, I still didn't know how.

I looked up forgiveness in the concordance in my bible. It sent me straight to Matthew 18:21-22:

"Lord, how many times must I forgive my brother if he wrongs me? As often as seven times? Jesus answered, "Not seven I tell you, but seventy times seven."

Whoa. I wasn't sure I wanted to try that on for size. If I wrote, "Dear God, I freely and fully forgive my spouse," four hundred ninety times (70 x 7), I was pretty sure I'd be a different person — a forgiving person — at the end. But it seemed a bit like a fourth-grade gum-chewing punishment.

It was a different bible verse that triggered the miracle prayer. The lesson at church one spring morning began with a short, rather odd quotation from Luke 7:47:

"It is someone who is forgiven little who shows little love."

I'd never heard this quotation before. I listened — hard. I squinted my eyes and stared at the minister: "Huh?" I had to really think about what that sentence meant. It was like my own little earthquake. The truth is the ground had been stirring for eons, but finally, this moment in time happened, and something shifted, some feeling or thought or desire moved, and my heart cracked open. In one perfect second, all the forgiveness exploration of the past months burst forth with one unstoppable need to really, truly, finally, and completely forgive.

My inner ears opened wide and I heard the minister say something in her meditation about a gap. I started to write:

There is a gap between you and me.

In the gap is pain and fear and anger.

In the gap is our history of ugly thoughts, ugly words, ugly actions.

In the gap are the sounds of screaming, crying and swearing.

That gap is killing us and hurting our child.

What good is there in that gap?

What good is there in refusing to cross it?

What good is there in staying angry?

What good is there in not forgiving?

Then she said something about "a little love." I wasn't really listening anymore. But somehow her most precious words landed on my page:

If there really is only one love — God's love — then:

How can I love my work, if I don't love you, in some way? Just a little.

How can I love our son with my whole heart, if I don't love you,

in some way? Just a little.

How can I love my new relationship, whomever that may be, whenever that may be,

if I don't love you, won't love you, can't love you, in some way? Just a little.

How can I love my home, my family, my friends?

How can I love my purpose, my reason for being, if I don't love you, in some way?

If I could love you — just a little

I could love my life all the more,

love my child all the more

love my work, my home, my friends, all the more.

After that, I don't remember anything she said. I had to buy the tape of the service to hear what I had missed. I was in another place, a forgiving place, doing deep, deep work:

I have it in my power to hate you, to ignore you, to blame you.

I have it in my power to make your life difficult, set up little traps,

say small nasty things.

I have it in my power to paint you as the bad guy, the stupid one, the fool.

And, I have it in my power to forgive you, to love you, in some way. Just a little.

The truth is your presence in my life was a gift.

For now and for always, you gave me our precious child, the sweetest gift on earth.

And you taught me, finally taught me, to say no.

Thanks to you, I learned, oh God, how I learned.

Thanks to you, I grew, till I became bigger, stronger, richer, fuller.

Thanks to you, I walked. I walked a long tough journey, but I walked

to this place, this moment, when I know who I am.

I know what I'm thinking. I know what I'm feeling.

And I see a clear choice:

I can hold you in this corner where you are forever wrong.

Or, I can hold you in the light where you are free to grow and change and be happy.

Dear God, I'm choosing.

I'm closing the gap,

filling it with forgiveness, plugging the holes and posting a sign:

Only love is spoken here.

The service and my prayer ended at noon. But I didn't move. I sat in the pew for a while, collecting myself and dabbing the tears. No one said anything to me. Or perhaps they did. I don't know. I wasn't aware of anyone or anything. I knew something profound had just happened, but I wasn't sure what.

I have read this prayer to congregations, workshops, and individuals hundreds of times. "Finally, Forgive" is the most requested prayer of the 100 personal prayers in my book, "Spiritual Geography." Every time I read it, someone calls to share their miracle. Sometimes they say an ex-spouse called for the first time in years. Sometimes they say they had the first good visit with an estranged parent or child. Sometimes they say the phone rang the next morning and it was an old friend calling to release an old grudge or pay an old debt. The person they heard from is always the person they held in their heart as I read the prayer. Always.

Try it. See the person you want to forgive clearly in your mind. Move that image to your heart and read the prayer aloud. Change the details in my prayer so it becomes yours. When you get to the part about the clear choice: "I can hold you in this corner...or I can hold you in the light," hold your hand up to the left and then, the right, seeing the person clearly in your hand. Don't be surprised if you cry. It's okay. It's more than okay, it's good. And holy.

After you've finished the prayer, be still. Be still and know. That all is well. Just rest in the miracle of forgiveness, the most perfect gift you can give — and receive.

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Janet Conner, S.E. (Spiritual Explorer), is an expert on the power of practical spirituality to heal your broken heart and transform your world. She is the cartographer of the map of spiritual healing and author of the seven travel guides in the Spiritual Geography series. In addition to divine dialogue, she welcomes human conversation at {email janetconner@tampabay.rr.com}janetconner@tampabay.rr.com{/email}. © copyright 2006 by Janet Conner

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