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It’s in the water we drink, the food we eat, and the air we breathe. Microplastics — tiny, invisible fragments of degraded plastic — are silently accumulating in our bodies. At least that’s what I’ve been reading.
Uh, oh.
The human body cannot metabolize these synthetic invaders, and they lodge in our tissues and bloodstream. The result? Our immune system treats them as foreign threats, sparking chronic inflammation, disrupting our systems, and leaving our bodies in a state of perpetual, low-grade stress.
We are bioaccumulating toxins we cannot even see. Another “Uh, oh.”
My passion lately has been understanding your life’s calling (I’m presenting a two-night seminar on the topic this Fall at my new office. Let me know if you are interested). While recently reading about microplastics (and throwing out plastic water bottles), I’ve realized a spiritual connection between microplastics and unforgiveness, especially as I’ve been studying how to fully walk in your life’s calling.
Just like plastic particles, offenses often start small — a dismissive comment, an unreturned favor, a minor betrayal, a frustrating misunderstanding. On their own, they seem harmless enough to simply brush off. But when we fail to actively process and release them, they bioaccumulate.
Yes, time for another “Uh, oh.”
In the New Testament, the primary Koine Greek word for forgiveness is aphiēmi, which literally translates to “a letting go” or “sending away.” When we refuse to aphiēmi — when we hold onto a grudge instead of sending it away — the offense lodges deeply in our minds. Psychologically, harboring unforgiveness traps the brain in a chronic state of stress. The mind continually responds to a past transgression as if it were an active, present threat. We ruminate. Our cortisol levels spike. We experience emotional inflammation.
Big time “Uh, oh!”
We become spiritually toxic, and interestingly, when forgiveness is compared to microplastic contamination, we notice that both have the same physically negative impact with resultant stress in our body.
The ancient Christians understood this danger intimately. St. Augustine warned that while we cannot live without facing daily offenses, the Lord’s Prayer (“Forgive us our debts…”) was meant to be a daily washing. To hold onto resentment is to let the vessel itself rot from the inside out. The Desert Fathers took this so seriously that they considered holding a grudge a total disqualification from the Christian life. They knew that if you don’t flush the spiritual system daily, the buildup will eventually choke out your faith.
We should listen to these ancients more often.
So, how do we detoxify? We must look to another Greek word heavily used by the Apostle Paul: “charizomai.” Rooted in the word for grace (charis), it means to forgive freely as a favor, regardless of whether the offender deserves it. It is not a transaction; it is a grace-powered flush of the system.
Corrie ten Boom, who miraculously learned to forgive her former Nazi guards, once noted, “Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart.” It is not about waiting until we feel like letting go; it is a conscious, sometimes painful decision to stop the accumulation of bitterness.
When our hearts and minds are clogged with the microscopic debris of past hurts, we simply do not have the spiritual bandwidth to listen for God’s voice or pursue our true calling. The weight of old grievances anchors us to the past, draining the energy we need for the future.
Check your spiritual bloodstream today. Are you carrying the micro-toxins of resentment? Make the choice to aphiēmi — to let it go. Set the prisoner free, and discover, as Lewis B. Smedes wrote, that the prisoner was you.
Amen! NO MORE “UH, OHs.” Let’s forgive one another.