What is Forgiveness?

What does the Bible’s narrative show us about forgiveness?

The story of forgiveness stretches across the pages of the Bible—from Eden to the empty tomb. At every turn, we see a God who does not ignore sin but acts decisively to forgive it.

When Adam and Eve rebelled against God in the garden, their guilt was immediate—and so was God’s response. But instead of abandoning them in judgment, God moved toward reconciliation, promising a Savior who would crush evil and restore what sin had broken (Genesis 3:15). This was the first glimpse of the gospel—a Redeemer who would undo the curse of sin. From the very beginning, God’s heart was set on forgiveness.

Later in the Bible’s story, God gave his people a powerful visual of what forgiveness would one day require. Once a year, on the Day of Atonement, the high priest would enter the most sacred part of the Temple with the blood of a sacrificed animal. The blood was sprinkled on the Ark of the Covenant—the place that symbolized God’s presence. It was a sobering scene. The people watched, knowing the blood wasn’t just a ritual. It was a vivid reminder that sin leads to death—and that only a substitute could make forgiveness possible (Leviticus 16:15–16; Hebrews 9:22).

But this act wasn’t the final solution. The same sacrifice had to be made again the next year and the year after that. It was never enough. God was showing his people something: forgiveness isn’t earned through effort or ritual. It requires a perfect substitute. And one day, that substitute, the Messiah, would come.

The promise was fulfilled in Jesus.

Jesus, the long-awaited Messiah, is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world (John 1:29). His blood, unlike the blood of animals, doesn’t just cover sin—it removes it. Once for all (Hebrews 10:10). At the cross, every debt was paid. Every record of wrong was wiped clean. Jesus didn’t come to show us how to earn forgiveness. He came to give it—freely, fully, forever.

From beginning to end, the Bible’s story of forgiveness is not about what we do for God—it’s about what God has done for us. The Father sent the Son to carry our sin, bear our punishment, and rise again to offer us peace. This is the heart of the gospel: full and free forgiveness for all who trust in Christ.

What is forgiveness, and why do we need it?

Forgiveness, as the Bible defines it, is not pretending sin never happened. It’s not a feeling or a process we complete over time. It is God’s merciful act of removing our guilt, canceling our debt, and releasing us from the punishment we rightfully deserve (Psalm 32:5; Colossians 2:13–14). He doesn’t overlook sin—he deals with it fully so that we can be fully reconciled to him (2 Corinthians 5:19–21).

Why do we need this kind of forgiveness? Because we are sinners by nature and by choice (Psalm 51:5). We aren’t just people who occasionally mess up—we were born in rebellion against God. From the beginning, our hearts have been turned inward, failing to love God perfectly or trust him completely (Romans 3:10–12). Even the best things we do fall short of his holy standard (Isaiah 64:6; Romans 3:23).

Sin doesn’t just make us flawed—it makes us guilty before the holy God. “The wages of sin is death” (Romans 6:23). That means separation from God forever (Isaiah 59:2; Matthew 25:46). We’re not just dealing with mistakes to overcome. We’re facing a debt we could never repay—and a judgment we could never escape on our own (Romans 2:5–6).

That’s why forgiveness is so necessary—and so powerful. It clears our record, removes our shame, and restores our relationship with God (Psalm 103:10–12; Acts 3:19). But we cannot earn it or become worthy of it. We cannot remove our guilt through sorrow, self-improvement, spiritual effort, or progress (Ephesians 2:8–9). Only God can forgive sin, and he does so based on what Jesus has done (Mark 2:7; 1 John 1:9).

God’s justice demands that every sin be punished (Romans 3:25–26). But his mercy moved him to send a substitute. The sinless Savior bore our guilt and shed his blood to be punished in our place. He fully satisfied God’s justice on our behalf (Isaiah 53:5-6; 1 Peter 2:24; Hebrews 9:22). The debt we owed was paid in full—nothing more remains to be added (Colossians 2:13-14). Because of Jesus, forgiveness is not a possibility we must work toward—it is a finished reality we are invited to receive by trusting in him (Acts 10:43). Full. Free. Forever.

What are the different ways the Bible describes forgiveness?

Forgiveness is not just one idea in the Bible—it’s a symphony of God’s love expressed in many and varied voices. God doesn’t simply tell us we’re forgiven; he shows us through vivid, layered language that touches both mind and heart.

In the original Hebrew and Greek, God uses multiple words to help us grasp just how far his mercy goes and how deeply he desires to restore us. Each word reveals something beautiful about the nature of his forgiveness—what it does, how it feels, and what it cost.

Salach (סָלַח) – sa-lakh – “to forgive completely”

In the Old Testament, salach is the most frequently used Hebrew word when God forgives. It appears often in prayers and pleas for mercy. But this word is never used to refer to people forgiving each other—only God can salach. Why? Because only God can remove sin in a final and complete way.

David cried out in Psalm 86:5, “You, Lord, are forgiving and good, abounding in love to all who call to you.” It’s a word that conveys divine generosity—a King who doesn’t just pardon a crime but opens his arms and fully restores the one who committed it. When you see God’s forgiveness in the Old Testament, think: God doesn’t hold back. He fully lets go of the offense and welcomes you back into a relationship with him.

Nasa (נָשָׂא) – naw-saw – “to lift, to carry away, to take the burden”

In the Old Testament, nasa describes God lifting up, carrying away, or removing sin. It appears in places where the weight of guilt is overwhelming, and only God can take it off someone’s shoulders.

The psalmist rejoices in this kind of forgiveness: “Blessed is the one whose transgressions are nasa (forgiven), whose sins are covered” (Psalm 32:1). The word nasa pictures sin as a heavy burden, and God as the one who picks it up and carries it away.

The prophet Isaiah said of the Messiah, “The Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all” (Isaiah 53:6). On the cross, Jesus carried the full weight of our sin. He didn’t just lift it temporarily—he took it away forever. You don’t have to carry your guilt anymore. When God forgives, he eradicates the burden. How? Because Jesus already bore it for you.

Kaphar (כָּפַר) – kaw-far – “to cover, to atone”

Kaphar is a Hebrew word that means “to cover.” It’s often translated as “make atonement” and is used when a sacrifice is offered to deal with sin. Forgiveness here isn’t just the removal of guilt—it’s the covering of it through the shedding of blood.

This word appears again and again in Leviticus, especially on the Day of Atonement. Once a year, the high priest would sprinkle the blood of a sacrificed animal on the lid of the ark of the covenant, called the mercy seat (Leviticus 16:14–15). That blood-covered lid came between God’s presence and the law the people had broken. “On this day, atonement (kaphar) will be made for you, to cleanse you. Then, before the Lord, you will be clean from all your sins” (Leviticus 16:30).

These sacrifices didn’t erase sin—they only covered it temporarily. But they pointed forward to a better sacrifice. Jesus didn’t just cover sin—he removed it. “He sacrificed for their sins once for all when he offered himself” (Hebrews 7:27). When God looks at you now, he sees the blood of his Son and declares: Fully covered. Fully clean. Forever mine.

Aphiemi (ἀφίημι) – af-ee’-ay-mee – “to release, to let go, to send away”

Aphiēmi is a Greek word that means “to send away” or “to release.” It pictures sin being removed from a person—sent far away, no longer held against them.

This word appears often in the New Testament when Jesus forgives sins. For example, when he healed the paralyzed man, he said, “Son, your sins are forgiven (aphiēmi)” (Mark 2:5). Religious leaders were shocked because only God could forgive sins like that. But Jesus showed that he had the authority to release people from their guilt completely.

Aphiēmi isn’t about managing sin or working it off over time. It means the offense is dismissed, and the record is cleared. Forgiveness through Jesus isn’t probation—it’s full pardon.

Charizomai (χαρίζομαι) – khar-id’-zom-ahee – “to give freely, to show grace, to extend favor”

Charizomai is a Greek word that means to forgive in a way that is generous, undeserved, and full of compassion. It comes from the same root as the word for gift—and shows us that forgiveness is not a transaction, but a gift given freely by someone who chooses kindness over payback.

Paul uses this word in Ephesians 4:32: “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving (charizomenoi) each other, just as in Christ God forgave (charizomai) you.” God’s forgiveness doesn’t depend on how well we make up for our failures—it flows from his kindness.

This kind of forgiveness doesn’t come with conditions or waiting periods. It’s not earned. It’s freely given because that’s the kind of heart God has. In Jesus, God didn’t just cancel your debt—he welcomed you back with open arms.

Katharizó (καθαρίζω) – kath-ar-id’-zo – “to cleanse, to purify, to make clean”

Katharizō means “to cleanse” or “make pure.” It’s used when Jesus forgives and removes the stain sin leaves behind. When a man with leprosy begged, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean,” Jesus touched him and said, “Be clean!”—and he was immediately cleansed (katharizō) (Luke 5:12–13).

This word is also used in 1 John 1:9: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and cleanse (katharizō) us from all unrighteousness.” Forgiveness doesn’t just cancel your guilt—it washes you clean. In Christ, you are no longer stained or unworthy. You are made new.

Katharizó doesn’t just change your appearance; it changes your status.

You are no longer unclean. You are welcome. You are whole. You are his.

Lutroó (λυτρόω) – loo-tro’-o – “to redeem, to set free by paying a ransom”

Lutroó means “to redeem” or “to set free by paying a ransom.” It describes what Jesus did to release us from the power and penalty of sin—not by overlooking it, but by paying for it with his own life.

Peter uses this word when he writes, “You were not redeemed (lutroó) with perishable things like silver or gold… but with the precious blood of Christ” (1 Peter 1:18–19). Forgiveness isn’t free—it just didn’t cost you. Jesus paid the price to buy your freedom. Because of him, you’re no longer a slave to guilt or fear. You belong to the one who gave himself for you.

You were enslaved to sin, chained, and condemned, but now you are repurchased, released, and redeemed. Think of someone trapped in a dungeon with no hope of escape—and then the door bursts open, not because you found a way out, but because your Rescuer came in. Lutroó says Christ purchased your freedom. Forgiveness has a price, and Jesus paid it in full.

These seven words—salach, nasa, kaphar, aphiemi, charizomai, katharizó, and lutroó—are not theological footnotes. They are declarations from the heart of God to yours. Together, these vivid verbs show that forgiveness is full, rich, and utterly complete.

Where does forgiveness come from?

If you’ve grown up being told that forgiveness depends on how deeply you repent, how consistently you improve, or how sincerely you confess, then the Bible offers something radically different. Forgiveness does not come from your effort, your sorrow, or your progress. It comes from one place only: the heart of God.

It is not summoned by worthiness; instead, it is sent by mercy. It is not the result of a worthy offering; instead, it flows from the once-for-all sacrifice of Jesus. God doesn’t wait until you’ve proven yourself. While we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8).

Forgiveness is God’s idea, God’s initiative, and God’s delight. “The LORD is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love… he does not treat us as our sins deserve” (Psalm 103:8,10). He forgives because he wants to. Because that is who he is.

You don’t have to question whether you’ve done enough. You don’t have to wonder if your former sins will return if you stumble again. Forgiveness doesn’t come in installments—it was finished at the cross. Hebrews 9:22 reminds us: “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.” That blood has already been shed. The price has already been paid.

Forgiveness comes from Christ alone.

Once. For all. Forever.

How do I personally receive forgiveness? There must be something “I” must do.

Many have spent years wondering, “Have I done enough? Have I repented enough? Have I changed enough to be forgiven?”

But the Bible’s answer isn’t a system. It’s a Savior.

You don’t get forgiveness by passing a test. You get it by trusting a Person. His name is Jesus.

“Everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name” (Acts 10:43). Not through their efforts. Not through progress or working toward perfection. Through his name. Through what he has already done.

Faith isn’t a step on a checklist—it’s the heart that says, “I can’t, but Jesus did.”
Faith is laying down your trying and trusting what’s already been accomplished.
Faith is not working toward forgiveness—it is resting in it.

If you’ve spent years trying to make yourself worthy, take a deep breath:
You don’t have to keep returning to the sacrament, hoping to tip the scales.
You don’t have to confess every single sin perfectly to wipe the slate clean.
You don’t need a bishop.
You don’t need a checklist.
You need a substitute.

Jesus is that substitute.

So if you wonder, “How do I know I’m forgiven?”—don’t look at your record. Look at his.
Look at his wounds. Look at his love.

You are not too far gone.
You are not too dirty.
You are not too late.

Forgiveness is not far off—it is near, spoken in the name of Jesus, and received by faith alone.

Come to him. Rest in him. And know—without a doubt—that you are forgiven.

Does confession prompt God to forgive me?

No, Jesus does not forgive us because we confess our sins. That’s a common misunderstanding, especially when reading 1 John 1:9, which says, “If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” But just a few verses earlier, John already tells us why we are forgiven: “The blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:7).

Think of it like this: if you’re sick, and you go to the doctor and say, “I’m sick, and here are my symptoms,” your words alone don’t heal you. Simply admitting that you’re sick isn’t what cures you. But if you deny your illness or refuse to seek help, you won’t get the medicine your body desperately needs.

It’s the same with forgiveness.

Confession isn’t what earns it—confession opens our hands to receive it. But even our open hands don’t add anything to the gift. Our response doesn’t activate forgiveness—it’s offered because of Jesus’ finished work.

When we confess our sins, we do not activate God’s mercy; we are admitting that we need it.

Your confession wasn’t nailed to the cross.

Your sorrow didn’t roll away the stone.

You’re not forgiven because of how honest you are about your sin.

You’re forgiven because Jesus bled for you, died for you, rose for you.

So don’t place your confidence in your confession. Place it in Christ. Don’t trust the sincerity of your apology. Trust the sufficiency of your Savior. Come to the doctor of souls—not to prove your worth, but to receive the healing that only he can give. When he forgives, he forgives completely.

Are some sins unforgivable?

Some carry the heavy fear that certain sins are too severe to be forgiven—too dark, too deliberate, or too damaging. Perhaps you’ve been taught that people like King David were permanently disqualified because of their worst failures.

But that’s not what the Bible says.

After David’s sin with Bathsheba and the murder of her husband, Uriah, he didn’t minimize what he had done. His sins were grievous—adultery and murder, both punishable by death under God’s law. Yet when David turned to the Lord in repentance, he wasn’t cast off. He was forgiven.

That kind of forgiveness is shocking. It’s scandalous—not because sin is small, but because mercy is undeserved. God doesn’t excuse sin; he covers it by placing the punishment on the Substitute, Jesus.

In Psalm 32 and Psalm 51, David pours out his confession, not with despair, but with hope. He speaks of being washed, cleansed, and renewed. The apostle Paul later quotes David in Romans 4:6–8: “Blessed are those whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. Blessed is the one whose sin the Lord will never count against them.” David wasn’t beyond forgiveness—he was embraced by it.

So what, then, is the “unforgivable sin” Jesus speaks about in the Gospels?

In Mark 3:28–29, Jesus says there is one sin that will not be forgiven—not because it’s worse in kind, but because it rejects the very path to forgiveness. It is a persistent, hardened refusal to believe the Holy Spirit’s testimony about Jesus—not a moment of doubt, not a moral collapse, but a lifelong rejection of Christ and his mercy.

To sin against the Holy Spirit is to push away the only One who can draw you to faith. It is to reject forgiveness itself.

If you’re worried you’ve committed that sin, take heart: the very fact that you care shows you haven’t. Those who have truly rejected the Spirit feel no grief, no fear, no pull toward Jesus.

But if you are looking to him—even weakly, even tremblingly—you are not beyond his reach. There is no sin so great that Christ’s blood cannot cover it—except the refusal to be covered by it.

What did Jesus mean when he told the women, “Go and sin no more?”

It’s a reasonable question—on the surface, it can sound like Jesus is saying, “You are only forgiven if you stop sinning.” However, a closer look at the context, tone, and theology of John 8 reveals something far different.

In John 8:1–11, the religious leaders brought a woman caught in adultery before Jesus, hoping to trap him. They weren’t concerned with justice or restoration. They wanted condemnation. But Jesus turned the moment upside down when he said, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.” One by one, her accusers slipped away.

Then Jesus turned to the woman and said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on sin no more.”

Notice the order: First comes the absolution—“Neither do I condemn you.” Then comes the invitation—“Go, and sin no more.”

Jesus didn’t say, “If you stop sinning, then I won’t condemn you.” He said, “I don’t condemn you.” Full stop. That is forgiveness. That is mercy and undeserved love.

His words, “Go and sin no more,” are not the condition or the foundation of her forgiveness—they are the fruit of it. They are a loving call to a new life that flows from having been set free. Jesus, the only one without sin, had every right to condemn her. Instead, he extended mercy. And that mercy becomes the power for a changed life.

This moment reflects a pattern seen throughout the Bible: God’s undeserved love and grace always come before transformation. Forgiveness is never earned by moral success. It is given freely—and then it changes everything.

“Sin no more” is not a burden—it’s a blessing. It’s the joyful response of someone who has been rescued.

Jesus wasn’t soft on sin. He took it so seriously that he went to the cross for it. But he deals with sin not by crushing the sinner but by bearing the judgment himself.

The message of John 8 is not that forgiveness is conditional—it’s that forgiveness is foundational. It comes first. Once received, it leads us to walk in the newness of life, not to earn God’s love but because we already have it.

Will God still forgive me if I can’t forgive others?

This question is deeply personal, especially for those carrying wounds caused by people they trusted. Forgiveness can feel impossible when the hurt runs deep.

Verses like Matthew 6:14–15 can make that struggle feel even heavier. Jesus says, “If you forgive others their sins, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others, your Father will not forgive your sins.” At first glance, that sounds like a warning: unless you forgive perfectly, God won’t forgive you.

But that’s not what Jesus is teaching.

In context, these words come right after the Lord’s Prayer—“Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.” This is not a transactional formula. It’s a prayer of surrender. When we ask God to help us forgive, we’re not offering him a deal—we’re asking him to shape our hearts to reflect the mercy we’ve already received.

In the original Greek, the phrase “as we forgive” is in the past tense. It’s not about meeting a condition for forgiveness—it’s describing a posture of the heart that flows from already being forgiven.

Jesus reinforces this point later in the Parable of the Unmerciful Servant (Matthew 18:21–35), a story many Latter-day Saints know well. A man is forgiven an enormous, unpayable debt but then refuses to forgive someone who owes him far less. His unforgiveness doesn’t cause him to lose salvation—it reveals that he never truly understood or received the mercy he was given.

That’s what Jesus is warning about in Matthew 6. He is not saying, “You’ll be forgiven only if you perform well.” He is showing that God’s mercy, when truly received, changes us. It softens hard hearts and plants the seeds of compassion.

If you’re struggling to forgive, that doesn’t mean God rejects you. It means your heart is still healing. Forgiveness is not easy, especially when the wounds are deep. But God doesn’t require instant readiness; instead, he invites honesty.

The ability to forgive doesn’t come from trying harder. It comes from being rooted deeper in the forgiveness God has already given you.

So don’t carry guilt over your struggle. Bring your pain to Jesus. Confess your anger, fear, and grief. He is not surprised by your weakness. He draws near to the brokenhearted and supplies what we cannot create on our own.

God’s forgiveness is the soil from which your forgiveness grows.

Does unconditional forgiveness lead to more sins?

It’s a fair question—and one the apostle Paul heard, too. After boldly declaring that we are saved by grace, not by works, Paul anticipated the pushback: “Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase?” (Romans 6:1). His response was clear and emphatic: “By no means!”

God’s forgiveness is not permission to sin—it’s freedom from sin’s power. When someone has truly been forgiven—when they’ve felt the weight of guilt lifted, and the stain of shame washed away—they don’t want to return to the darkness. They want to walk in the light.

Forgiveness doesn’t make sin smaller. It makes grace bigger. It also makes the cost of sin clearer. Jesus bled and died to give us this gift. When we see that, it doesn’t make us careless. It humbles us. It changes our hearts.

That doesn’t mean the struggle with sin disappears. As long as we live in this world, we will stumble. But forgiven hearts are not content to stay in the pit—they look to the cross and get back up.

We don’t obey because we’re afraid God might withhold forgiveness. We obey because we’re thankful he never will.

Forgiveness doesn’t lead to a casual life. It leads to a changed life.

True forgiveness creates a heart that says, “I don’t want to sin anymore. I want to live for the One who died for me.”