Forgiveness Brings Freedom

The Hurts We Carry

Someone betrays us. Someone lies to us. Someone disappoints us. Someone we trusted turns out not to be who we believed they were.

A friendship falls apart. A family relationship becomes unhealthy. A marriage ends. A romantic relationship does not become what we believed it would. Someone fails to protect us. Someone makes choices that leave consequences we never asked to carry.

Sometimes the person who hurt us remains in our lives. Sometimes they do not. But either way, the wound can remain.

If we are not careful, we can spend years learning how to live around something God actually wants to heal. Because that is what we often do when something hurts. We compensate.

When We Learn to Walk Around the Wound

Think about what happens when you twist your ankle. You do not necessarily stop walking. You adjust. You limp. You shift your weight. You put more pressure on the other leg. Your hip may begin moving differently. Your back may start carrying weight it was never designed to carry.

For a little while, that compensation can help you function. You still get where you are going. You learn how to move around the pain. But if the injury does not heal and you keep walking that way long enough, eventually the problem may not remain only in your ankle.

Other parts of your body begin carrying strain they were never designed to carry. Something that was never originally injured can begin hurting too. I think our hearts can do something very similar.

Most people do not wake up in the morning thinking, ‘How can I hurt somebody today?’ Of course, there are situations where people deliberately cause harm, and intentional cruelty has to be addressed for what it is. But that is not every situation.

Sometimes people are simply hurting so deeply inside that they have learned how to function around the wound.

Someone abandons us, so we learn to hold people tighter. Someone betrays us, so we learn to question everything. Someone controls us, so we become fiercely protective of our independence. Someone repeatedly rejects us, so we learn to leave first.

Someone makes love feel unsafe, so we protect ourselves from the very intimacy we still desire. Someone teaches us that conflict means a relationship is about to end, so every disagreement begins feeling like an emergency. Someone lies to us, so now we watch the next person for evidence that they will lie too.

We may not be intentionally trying to hurt anybody. We are compensating. We are shifting emotional weight away from the place that hurts.

Sometimes those things really did help us survive a painful season. But something that helped us survive yesterday can begin damaging our relationships today if we never allow God to heal what caused us to compensate in the first place.

The other leg was not injured. But now it is carrying the weight of the injured one. Eventually something that was never originally wounded begins hurting too.

That can happen in relationships. The person standing in front of us today may not be the person who wounded us yesterday. But they can end up carrying the weight of it.

Our children can feel it. Our friendships can feel it. Our marriages can feel it. The person we are dating can feel it. Our relationship with God can even feel it. A wound in one place begins putting pressure somewhere else.

Sometimes What Looks Like the Problem Is Not the Wound

That is why healing requires more than changing our behavior.

Maybe jealousy is not actually the deepest problem. Maybe underneath it is abandonment. Maybe control is not the deepest problem. Maybe underneath it is fear. Maybe anger is not the deepest problem. Maybe underneath it is grief.

Maybe people pleasing is not the deepest problem. Maybe somewhere along the way we learned that love had to be earned. Maybe emotional distance is not the deepest problem. Maybe closeness once became dangerous.

Maybe we are constantly asking another person to reassure us, prove themselves, choose us, or make us feel safe because something inside of us is still limping.

We can spend all our energy saying, ‘Stop being jealous. Stop overthinking. Stop controlling. Stop getting defensive. Stop shutting down. Stop being afraid.’ But that is a little like looking at someone with an injured ankle and saying, ‘Stop limping.’

Maybe we need to ask a different question. Why are you limping? Where does it hurt? What happened there? What are you protecting? What weight are you carrying differently because of it?

And most importantly, have you allowed Jesus into that place? Because Christ is not merely interested in teaching us how to hide the limp better. He wants to heal what caused it.

Sometimes Compensation Looks Like Coping

Not every wound shows itself through the way we treat another person. Sometimes it shows itself through what we repeatedly reach for when we do not know how to process everything we have been carrying.

We stay busy. We work. We scroll. We shop. We eat. We exercise. We surround ourselves with people. We fill quiet moments with noise. We throw ourselves into ministry. We sing.

Not everything we use to cope is inherently wrong. Sometimes the activity itself is perfectly fine. The deeper question is, ‘What am I asking this thing to do for me?’

There was a season in my own life when I would occasionally go sing karaoke when I had a weekend with some downtime. Honestly, I looked forward to that time. Not because I did not value the rest of my week. Quite the opposite.

By the time I reached those moments of downtime, I often realized just how much I had been carrying. Life could be busy. There were responsibilities. There were emotions. There were things I was trying to figure out.

Instead of bringing those things to God as they came and allowing Him to help me carry them, I had a tendency to hold onto them. I would keep going. Keep functioning. Keep handling what needed handled. Everything I had not processed would quietly accumulate.

Then I would finally have a little space to myself. So I would sing. I love singing. There is absolutely nothing wrong with singing karaoke. It felt good to stand behind a microphone, belt out a couple of songs, laugh, and release some of the energy that had been building inside of me.

But looking back, God has allowed me to ask a different question. Why did I need to wait until I finally had downtime to release everything I had been carrying? Why did I need an outlet before I knew how to bring those emotions honestly before God?

The problem was not karaoke. The problem was that I had spent so much time believing everything I encountered was somehow mine to carry.

I would pick something up on Monday. Something else on Tuesday. Another concern on Wednesday. Another emotion on Thursday. I would keep carrying it. Then eventually I would need somewhere for all of that pressure to go.

But what if some of those things were never mine to carry in the first place? What if God had been inviting me all week, ‘Give that to Me,’ and I was saying, ‘I have got it’?

Maybe that is something some of us do without even realizing it. We do not necessarily run from our responsibilities. Sometimes we do the opposite. We take responsibility for things God never actually gave us responsibility for.

Other people's choices. Other people's healing. Other people's reactions. Things we cannot control. Questions we cannot answer yet. Outcomes we cannot determine. Tomorrow's problems. Yesterday's regrets. Then we wonder why we are exhausted.

I was not necessarily trying to escape my life when I sang. I was trying to release everything I had been carrying through it. But God has shown me that there is a difference between releasing pressure and surrendering weight.

One can make us feel lighter for a little while. The other changes what we are carrying.

God never told us to carry everything until we finally found somewhere to let it out. He told us to cast it upon Him.

Maybe that is the question. Why am I waiting until I am overwhelmed to give God something He was willing to carry from the beginning?

Was I singing for God? Was I worshiping Him? Was I bringing everything happening inside of me into His presence? Or was I simply finding an outlet that allowed me to keep carrying things I should have surrendered?

That distinction matters. Sometimes the activity we are doing is not the problem at all. The weight we are bringing into it is.

“Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.”

1 Peter 5:7 KJV

Relief Is Not Always Healing

Something can make us feel better without actually making us better. If you have ever had an injury, you understand that. Something may temporarily relieve the pain without healing what caused the pain.

Emotionally, we can do the same thing. Something makes us feel better for an hour. For an evening. For a weekend. So we reach for it again. And again.

Eventually our hearts can begin learning a pattern. When I feel this, I do that. I am lonely, so I reach for this. I am rejected, so I reach for this. I am anxious, so I reach for this. I am angry, so I reach for this. I am ashamed, so I reach for this. I am overwhelmed, so I reach for this. I am hurting, so I reach for this.

For some people, this can become part of the pathway into addiction. Not every coping mechanism becomes an addiction, and addiction is complex. There is not one explanation that fits every person.

But sometimes a behavior or substance begins doing a job for us. It numbs. It distracts. It soothes. It excites. It calms. It fills time. It creates connection. It gives us something we believe we can control. It allows us to temporarily escape something inside ourselves that we do not know how to face.

Eventually we may not even recognize what we are trying not to feel anymore. We only know, ‘I need this right now.’

What Do You Reach for First?

That is worth asking ourselves. When something hurts, where do I instinctively go?

Do I go to food? Alcohol? Pornography? Shopping? Social media? A relationship? Attention? Work? Exercise? Entertainment?

Do I immediately reach for another person because I cannot tolerate sitting alone with what I am feeling? Do I jump into another relationship because being wanted by somebody feels easier than grieving the relationship that ended?

Do I stay so busy taking care of everyone else that I never have enough quiet to notice what is happening inside of me?

Here is an uncomfortable question for Christians. Can we even use ministry to avoid dealing with ourselves? Almost anything can become a place we hide.

Something does not have to look sinful to become something we are asking to carry a weight God never designed it to carry.

Sometimes the question is not, ‘Is this thing bad?’ Sometimes the better question is, ‘Why do I need this right now? What is it doing for me? What feeling does it quiet? What does it help me avoid? What happens inside of me when I do not have it? What am I afraid I will have to feel if I become still?’

God Is Not Asking Us to Stop Feeling

Bringing our pain to God does not mean suppressing our emotions and covering them with a Bible verse.

God is not frightened by our grief. He is not uncomfortable with our anger. He is not surprised by our disappointment. He is not asking us to pretend we are fine.

Scripture gives us example after example of people bringing raw emotion before God. David cried. Job questioned. Jeremiah lamented. Jesus wept. The Psalms are filled with people bringing the things happening inside them directly into God's presence.

Pour out your heart. That does not sound like pretending.

Maybe instead of immediately asking, ‘How do I make this feeling stop?’ we begin asking, ‘God, will You meet me while I feel this? What is underneath this? Why did that affect me so deeply? What am I afraid of? What am I grieving? What am I trying to escape? What am I believing right now? What wound does this keep touching? What are You trying to show me here?’

That is different from simply finding something that makes the pain quieter. That is learning to process our pain with God.

“Trust in him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us.”

Psalm 62:8 KJV

What Are We Actually Holding Onto?

Then we come to forgiveness. Sometimes Christians make forgiveness sound incredibly simple. Just forgive. Let it go. Move on.

But sometimes we are not holding onto one offense. We are grieving everything attached to it.

Maybe you are grieving the person you thought someone was. A marriage you believed would last. A friendship you believed was safe. A parent you needed to protect you. A relationship you believed had a future.

Maybe you are grieving years. Trust. Innocence. Opportunities. A future you had already begun imagining. Maybe you are grieving the version of yourself that existed before something happened.

Underneath all of that, sometimes we are still waiting for the story to be made right. If they would just understand. If they would finally admit it. If they would apologize. If they would change. If somebody else would finally see what happened. If there were consequences. Then maybe something inside of us could finally settle.

Wanting those things is not necessarily wrong. Repentance matters. Accountability matters. Truth matters. Justice matters. There are relationships where something genuinely precious was damaged. God does not ask us to pretend otherwise.

Sometimes before we can release something, we have to become honest enough to say, ‘God, this really hurt. I did not want this. I wish it had been different. I wanted them to love me differently. I wanted them to choose differently. I wanted this relationship to survive. I wanted an apology. I wanted them to understand. I wanted justice. I wanted back what I lost. And I cannot make any of those things happen.’

Sometimes that is where surrender begins. Not with pretending we do not care. But with admitting how deeply we do.

Forgiveness Can Include Grieving

There are things forgiveness cannot give back. It cannot give us yesterday. It cannot erase a betrayal. It cannot recreate innocence. It cannot make someone become the person we needed them to be. It cannot guarantee reconciliation. It cannot force another person to repent.

That is why sometimes forgiveness includes grief. We are not simply releasing what somebody did. We are surrendering our demand to control what happens next.

We are saying, ‘God, I wanted them to make this right. I surrender that to You. I wanted them to understand. I surrender their understanding to You. I wanted them to change. I surrender their heart to You. I wanted justice to look a certain way. I surrender justice to You. I wanted this relationship. I surrender this relationship to You.’

Notice what God does not say. He does not say, ‘Nothing happened.’ He says, ‘Give it to Me.’

We are not releasing someone because there was no debt. We are releasing them because we are no longer willing to be the collector.

God can handle justice without hatred. God can handle correction without bitterness. God can handle another person's heart without our interference.

“Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.”

Romans 12:19 KJV

Forgiveness Brings Freedom

Forgiveness is not saying, ‘What you did was okay.’ It is not saying, ‘It did not hurt me.’ It is not pretending there were no consequences. It does not mean putting ourselves back into situations where someone can continue hurting us.

Forgiveness says, ‘I am no longer going to carry this debt. I am taking what happened to Jesus. I am taking my anger to Jesus. I am taking my questions to Jesus. I am taking the apology I never received to Jesus. I am taking the future I thought I would have to Jesus. And I am taking the person who hurt me to Jesus.’

Unforgiveness does not only keep us connected to what someone else did. Eventually it can begin changing us.

Pain that is not healed can become bitterness. Fear can become control. Betrayal can become suspicion. Rejection can become defensiveness. Abandonment can become desperation.

Eventually we can find ourselves hurting people who never hurt us because we are still protecting ourselves from somebody who did. The person who originally wounded us may no longer be in the room, but the wound can still be participating in our relationships.

That is why forgiveness matters. We do not forgive because what happened was insignificant. We forgive because we do not want what happened to us determining what comes through us.

Look at the Dating World

You can see this almost everywhere. But spend some time in the dating world and, oh my goodness, you can see it clearly. There are a lot of hurting people trying to build relationships with other hurting people.

Someone was cheated on, so the next person is treated like they are already guilty. Someone was abandoned, so now they cling tightly. Someone was controlled, so now every reasonable concern feels like control. Someone was lied to, so now they are constantly searching for dishonesty.

Someone was rejected, so they reject first. Someone was used, so they assume everyone has an ulterior motive. Someone learned that people leave, so they demand constant reassurance that the next person will not.

Again, most of these people probably did not wake up planning to hurt somebody. They are limping. They are compensating. They are trying to protect a wound. But the next person ends up carrying weight from an injury they did not cause.

Then that person gets hurt. If they do not heal, they may carry that wound into the next relationship. The cycle continues. That is how brokenness can reproduce itself. Unhealed wounds can recruit innocent people into battles they never started.

At some point, someone has to stop the cycle. With Christ, it can stop with us.

Our children should not have to carry what somebody else did to us. Our friendships should not have to carry it. Our future spouse should not have to carry it. The next person should not have to pay for what the last person did. And neither should we.

Sometimes Love Means Getting Out of the Way

Sometimes the person we are surrendering to God is someone we still deeply love. That makes this harder because love naturally wants to help.

Maybe if I explain it differently. Maybe if I am more patient. Maybe if I love them better. Maybe if I forgive one more thing. Maybe if I stay. Maybe if I prove I am not abandoning them.

But eventually we may have to recognize, ‘I cannot heal this person. I cannot make them see something they are not ready to see. I cannot repent for them. I cannot change their heart. I cannot do the work God is asking them to do. But Jesus can.’

Sometimes loving someone means staying beside them. Sometimes loving someone means helping them. Sometimes loving someone means recognizing that we need to get out of God's way.

That can happen in a marriage or romantic relationship. A friendship. A family relationship. Any close relationship.

Sometimes we need distance temporarily. Sometimes circumstances require longer distance. Sometimes the relationship itself cannot continue in the form it once had. That can hurt both people.

Stepping away does not necessarily mean, ‘I am angry with you.’ It does not necessarily mean, ‘I hate you.’ It can mean, ‘I love you enough to recognize that I cannot be what only God can be for you.’

Maybe our presence has begun cushioning consequences God needs to use. Maybe we are continually rescuing someone from discomfort that could cause them to examine themselves. Maybe they have become so accustomed to arguing with us, blaming us, depending upon us, or returning to us that they are no longer hearing what God is trying to show them.

Sometimes surrender means saying, ‘God, I cannot help them. But You can. I love them. I want good for them. But I recognize that I need to step aside. And I trust You enough to leave them with You.’

Take Them to Jesus

Then something begins changing in our prayers. At first, perhaps all we can pray is, ‘God, help me forgive them.’ That is a good place to begin.

Eventually, perhaps our prayer begins becoming less about what we need God to do for us and more about what we want God to do for them.

God, help them. Heal whatever is broken inside of them. Show them what they cannot see. Bring conviction where conviction is needed. Bring repentance. Surround them with people who will speak truth. Break unhealthy patterns. Heal wounds they are carrying. Protect the people around them from whatever remains unhealthy within them. Help them become who You created them to be. And Lord, please forgive them.

That is difficult. Now we are not simply asking God to remove our anger. We are asking Him to extend mercy to the person who hurt us. That is exactly what Jesus demonstrated.

Think about where Jesus prayed that. From the cross. He did not call what they were doing good. He did not say it did not hurt. He did not pretend sin was not happening. But He did not allow their sin against Him to produce hatred within Him.

Father, forgive them. Maybe we are not ready to pray that yet. Maybe the most honest prayer we can offer today is, ‘Jesus, I want to want that.’ And that is somewhere to begin.

“Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”

Luke 23:34 KJV

Forgiveness Does Not Automatically Mean Reconciliation

This distinction matters. Forgiveness can happen within one heart. Reconciliation requires participation from both people. Forgiveness does not automatically restore trust. Trust is rebuilt through honesty, repentance, change, consistency, and fruit over time.

We can forgive someone who is not sorry. We can forgive someone and still have boundaries. We can forgive someone and say no. We can forgive someone whom wisdom tells us we cannot safely trust in the same way again.

We can pray for someone without having access to them. We can want God's absolute best for someone while recognizing that we may not be the person God uses to bring it about.

Forgiveness changes what I carry. Repentance changes what you do. Reconciliation requires both of us. Trust is rebuilt through consistent fruit. Boundaries determine what access is wise in the meantime.

Forgiveness does not require us to place ourselves or others in danger. Sometimes we forgive from a safe distance. Sometimes that distance is part of surrender.

The Price Was Already Paid

Before we were ever asked to release somebody else's debt, Christ released ours.

A ransom is a price paid for release. Before Christ, we had a debt we could not pay. We could not behave our way out of it. We could not become good enough to erase it. We could not undo every wrong thing we had done. So Jesus paid what we could not pay.

While we were yet sinners, Christ did not wait for us to become worthy of mercy. As we stand beneath that mercy ourselves, He begins teaching us how to extend it.

Not because another person's sin did not matter. The cross proves that sin matters tremendously. Forgiveness was costly. But Christ paid the cost. We were ransomed.

When we understand how much mercy we have received, we begin looking differently at the broken people around us.

We can acknowledge, ‘They hurt me,’ and also recognize, ‘They are hurting too.’ We can say, ‘What they did was wrong,’ and still pray, ‘God, please heal whatever is broken inside of them.’

Understanding someone's brokenness does not excuse their behavior. Compassion does not eliminate accountability. Forgiveness does not erase consequences. But we can stop needing another person's destruction in order to feel that justice has been done. We can place them into God's hands.

“But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

Romans 5:8 KJV

Stop Asking Other Things to Carry What Belongs to Jesus

Maybe this is where all of it comes together. The wound. The limp. The compensation. The coping. The relationship patterns. The things we reach for. The person we cannot fix. The apology we never received. The justice we wanted.

We can spend so much time carrying weight and then putting pieces of it everywhere. Onto another relationship. Onto food. Onto alcohol. Onto work. Onto entertainment. Onto our children. Onto another person. Onto ourselves.

But none of those things were designed to carry it.

All your care. The anger. The loneliness. The disappointment. The grief. The cravings. The fear. The person. The wound. Even the things we have been using to cope with the wound. All of it.

Maybe freedom begins when we stop asking everything else to carry something that belongs in the hands of Jesus.

“Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.”

1 Peter 5:7 KJV

Healing Is Not Learning to Limp Better

Maybe you have become really good at functioning. Maybe nobody even knows you are hurting. You have learned how to compensate so well that the limp is barely noticeable.

But Jesus does not merely want to make us better at functioning while wounded. Healing is not learning how to limp more gracefully. It is allowing Christ to heal what made us limp in the first place.

Maybe that means grieving something we have never allowed ourselves to grieve. Maybe it means admitting something hurt more than we wanted to admit. Maybe it means recognizing a coping mechanism for what it has become.

Maybe it means forgiving someone. Maybe it means stepping away. Maybe it means staying but establishing healthier boundaries. Maybe it means finally saying, ‘God, I cannot fix them.’ Maybe it means praying, ‘Father, forgive them.’

Maybe today we are only ready to say, ‘Jesus, I want to want that.’ Bring Him that too.

This is not about forcing ourselves into forgiveness so we can prove we are good Christians. It is about becoming free.

We do not want someone else's wound becoming ours. We do not want their brokenness becoming our brokenness. We do not want what happened to us becoming something we unknowingly hand to somebody else.

So we take it to Jesus.

Lord, this hurt. I will not pretend it did not. But I do not want to keep walking around this wound. I do not want another person carrying weight that belongs to what happened here. I do not want my children carrying it. I do not want my future relationships carrying it. I do not want my decisions controlled by it. I do not want the things I use to cope controlling me. I do not want this person's brokenness reproducing itself through mine.

So I bring them to You. I forgive them. Please forgive them. Heal whatever is broken in them. Heal what was wounded in me. Teach me how to walk without compensating for this anymore.

Forgiveness does not change what happened. But forgiveness can change what happened is allowed to keep doing.

Forgiveness brings freedom. Surrender puts the person back into God's hands. Healing keeps their wound from becoming ours to pass along. Love can pray for someone's restoration even when wisdom tells us we need to step away.

We were never created to spend our lives limping around our wounds. We were created to walk with God. Sometimes before He leads us forward, He lovingly brings us back to the place that still hurts and says, ‘Let Me heal this too.’

Reflection Questions

What hurt in my life have I learned to compensate for instead of allowing God to heal?

Where might someone in my life be carrying emotional weight from an injury they did not cause?

What behaviors in my life may actually be responses to something deeper?

When I am hurting, what do I instinctively reach for?

Is there something perfectly ordinary or even good that I have been asking to do something for me that only God can do?

Am I seeking temporary relief, or am I allowing Christ to bring healing?

What emotion am I most uncomfortable sitting with?

What might happen if, instead of immediately trying to make that feeling disappear, I brought it honestly before God?

Is there someone whose apology, acknowledgment, repentance, or change I am still waiting for before allowing myself to heal?

What am I actually grieving about what happened?

Am I trying to fix someone God is asking me to surrender?

Have I confused forgiveness with reconciliation, trust, or restored access?

Can I acknowledge that someone may have acted from their own brokenness without excusing the harm they caused?

Is there someone I am not yet able to pray, ‘Father, forgive them,’ for?

Can I begin with, ‘Jesus, I want to want that. Teach me.’

What would change if I stopped asking other people, other relationships, or other things to carry pain that Jesus is asking me to place into His hands?

Ransomed. The price has been paid. This is where the journey toward being redeemed, restored, and renewed begins.

“If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.”

John 8:36 KJV