The Healing Face of Salvation

What is salvation? What does it really look like? Over centuries, people and theologies have offered many answers. For some, salvation means entering heaven after death. For others, it is resting in eternal peace. Still others see it as redemption from personal struggles or sinfulness. None of these are wrong, but on their own, they may not reveal the full depth of salvation.

The word salvation comes from the Latin salus, meaning healing. That shifts the question: if salvation is healing, then what is being healed?

Richard Rohr, a Franciscan teacher of contemplation, deepens this insight by connecting salvation with forgiveness. He writes, “Salvation often feels like a kind of universal amnesty, a total forgiveness of ourselves and all things.” In this light, salvation, forgiveness, and healing are inseparable. To experience salvation is to encounter a God who forgives us completely and accepts us without reserve. That radical forgiveness awakens us to acceptance—of ourselves, of others, of life as it is.

When we rest in such unconditional forgiveness, something extraordinary happens: healing begins. Our wounds and the wounds of others no longer remain barriers; they become places where grace breaks through. Old hurts take on new meaning. Difficult stories are reframed in the light of compassion. Slowly, we begin to see that everything belongs. Nothing is left outside the circle of love.

This vision of salvation is not locked in dogma or postponed until after death. It is not just a promise for tomorrow—it is an invitation for today. Salvation is a living process, meant to be received and practiced in the here and now. To let ourselves be forgiven, accepted, and healed by God is to enter into salvation. And once we do, we cannot help but extend that same forgiveness and healing outward.

True salvation is not about waiting—it is about living. To live salvation is to become a channel of healing: for ourselves, for others, and for the world around us.

Notes

Rohr, R. (2003). Everything belongs: The gift of contemplative prayer (p. 65). A Crossroad Publishing Company.