Chapter 4: Forgiveness and the Freedom to Let Go

"Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye." Colossians 3:13 (KJV)

Truth gives us somewhere solid to stand.

But once we know what is true, we have to decide what we're going to do with it.

Sometimes the truth is:

Someone hurt me.

Sometimes:

I hurt someone.

Sometimes:

Something happened that nobody can go backward and change.

And eventually we arrive at forgiveness.

I think forgiveness can be one of the most misunderstood parts of healing.

We know Christians are supposed to forgive.

So sometimes we rush toward it.

I forgive them.

There.

Done.

But underneath those words, we're still angry.

Still replaying.

Still waiting for the apology.

Still hoping they finally understand what they did.

Still wanting something from them that will make the debt feel settled.

Maybe that's because forgiveness isn't pretending there was never a debt.

Forgiveness begins by acknowledging that there was one.

Something was lost.

Trust.

Safety.

Time.

A relationship.

An opportunity.

A piece of innocence.

Maybe years.

Maybe something that can never be returned in exactly the form in which it was taken.

And now we're standing there with a debt nobody may be capable of completely repaying.

What do we do with that?

Forgiveness Doesn't Change What Happened

Sometimes we resist forgiveness because it feels like saying:

It was okay.

But forgiveness doesn't make wrong become right.

It doesn't erase consequences.

It doesn't automatically restore trust.

It doesn't require reconciliation.

It doesn't mean we have to allow someone access to our lives.

It doesn't require pretending we weren't hurt.

Forgiveness begins with truth.

This happened.

It mattered.

It affected me.

And I'm choosing not to spend the rest of my life demanding payment for it.

That's different.

Because sometimes we're waiting for someone to repay something they simply cannot return.

How does someone give us back the years?

How do they undo the words?

How do they erase the memory?

How do they return an opportunity?

How do they give us back the version of ourselves that existed before something happened?

Sometimes they can't.

Maybe they can apologize.

Maybe they can repent.

Maybe they can make amends.

Maybe they can become different.

Those things matter.

But they still cannot rewrite history.

If our freedom depends upon another person somehow making yesterday unhappen, we will remain connected to an impossible debt.

Forgiveness begins loosening that connection.

Forgiveness Isn't the Same as Reconciliation

We need to make this distinction early.

Forgiveness involves what we're carrying in our own heart.

Reconciliation involves a relationship.

Those aren't the same thing.

I can forgive someone who never apologizes.

I can forgive someone who isn't safe to be around.

I can forgive someone who has died.

I can forgive someone I will never speak to again.

I can forgive someone while maintaining a necessary boundary.

Reconciliation requires more.

It requires two people.

Truth.

Willingness.

Where wrongdoing occurred, repentance.

Where trust was damaged, time and consistent fruit.

Sometimes reconciliation is beautiful.

Sometimes God restores something we thought was completely gone.

But forgiveness cannot depend upon reconciliation.

Otherwise the other person still controls whether we're allowed to become free.

Forgiveness Isn't the Same as Trust

Maybe someone says:

If you really forgave me, you would trust me.

Not necessarily.

Forgiveness can be given.

Trust is built.

If someone repeatedly lied to us, forgiving the lies doesn't require immediately believing everything they say.

If someone repeatedly violated a boundary, forgiveness doesn't require pretending the pattern never existed.

If someone harmed us, forgiveness doesn't require giving them the same access they had before.

Jesus said:

"Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them." Matthew 7:20 (KJV)

Fruit takes time.

Maybe forgiveness opens our hands.

Trust watches what grows next.

That isn't bitterness.

That can be wisdom.

You Don't Have to Wait for an Apology

This is where forgiveness becomes difficult.

Maybe the apology never comes.

Maybe the person refuses to acknowledge what happened.

Maybe they believe they did nothing wrong.

Maybe they blame us.

Maybe they aren't alive anymore.

Maybe there will never be another conversation.

Do we have to carry resentment forever?

No.

Jesus prayed from the cross:

"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." Luke 23:34 (KJV)

They weren't apologizing.

They weren't stopping.

They weren't taking responsibility.

Jesus wasn't pretending what they were doing was acceptable.

They were crucifying Him.

But their sin wasn't allowed to determine what came out of Him.

That's powerful.

Maybe forgiveness isn't something another person earns from us.

Maybe it's something we release before God because we no longer want their debt living inside us.

Sometimes Forgiveness Is Repeated

Maybe you've already forgiven.

You meant it.

Then something reminds you.

A date.

A place.

A conversation.

A photograph.

Something someone says.

And suddenly the anger is there again.

Or the sadness.

Or the sense of injustice.

And we think:

I thought I forgave this.

Maybe you did.

Maybe forgiveness doesn't mean you'll never feel anything about it again.

Healing has layers.

Maybe you forgave what happened.

Later you realize you're grieving what it cost.

Bring that too.

Maybe you forgave what someone did to you.

Later you recognize anger over how their choices affected someone you love.

Bring that too.

Maybe you forgave the words.

Years later you recognize how deeply those words shaped what you believed about yourself.

Bring that too.

Sometimes forgiveness sounds like:

God, I already gave this to You.

But I found another piece of it.

Here.

This belongs to You too.

That's not failure.

That's continued surrender.

Forgiveness Doesn't Mean Forgetting

We've probably all heard:

Forgive and forget.

But forgetting isn't the biblical command.

Sometimes remembering is part of wisdom.

We remember patterns.

We remember what certain fruit looked like.

We remember what happened when we ignored something important.

Experience teaches us.

The question isn't whether we remember.

It's what the memory produces.

Does remembering immediately pull us back into hatred?

Do we rehearse the story until the anger becomes fresh again?

Do we use the memory to justify treating someone badly?

Do we keep mentally putting the person back on trial?

Or can we eventually remember and say:

Yes.

That happened.

I learned from it.

God has been healing me from it.

And I don't need to punish them again today.

That's different.

We can remember without continually reopening the wound.

We can carry wisdom without carrying resentment.

Sometimes We're Still Trying to Collect the Debt

This can happen quietly.

Maybe we've said we forgive.

But somewhere inside, we're still waiting.

Waiting for them to understand.

Waiting for them to feel badly enough.

Waiting for consequences.

Waiting for somebody else to recognize what happened.

Waiting for the moment when the person finally says:

You were right.

I was wrong.

I'm sorry.

Maybe what we're really waiting for is payment.

And sometimes the payment we want isn't even something another person can give us.

We want them to understand exactly how we felt.

To experience enough regret that the scales somehow feel balanced.

Maybe part of us even wants them to hurt enough to finally understand our hurt.

That's human.

But if another person's suffering becomes necessary for our peace, we're still bound to them.

Forgiveness begins changing that.

God, I don't need to personally collect this debt anymore.

You know what happened.

You know what justice requires.

You know what mercy requires.

I'm giving this to You.

Justice Still Matters

Forgiveness doesn't mean justice doesn't matter.

Sometimes wrongdoing needs consequences.

Sometimes something needs to be reported.

Sometimes people need protection.

Sometimes accountability is necessary.

Sometimes a boundary must remain.

Scripture says:

"Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." Romans 12:19 (KJV)

That verse doesn't tell us that wrong doesn't matter.

It tells us we don't have to become personally consumed with making sure someone pays.

There is a difference between pursuing appropriate accountability and living emotionally committed to another person's punishment.

We can say:

This needs to be addressed.

And still say:

God, I refuse to let hatred grow inside me while it is being addressed.

We can protect people without becoming vindictive.

We can tell the truth without exaggerating.

We can pursue justice without allowing revenge to become our identity.

God is capable of being just without becoming corrupted by anger.

We can trust Him with what belongs to Him.

They Don't Have to Hurt for Us to Heal

This one can expose something uncomfortable.

Sometimes when someone has hurt us deeply, part of us wants them to understand by experiencing something similar.

Maybe we'd never say:

I want them to suffer.

But maybe we want them to feel the weight of what they did.

We want them to finally understand.

And again, accountability matters.

Consequences can be appropriate.

But there's a difference between wanting truth and justice and needing someone else's pain in order to experience peace.

If their suffering becomes necessary for our healing, we're still emotionally connected to what happens to them.

Freedom begins when we can say:

God, deal with this however You know is right.

Correct them if they need correction.

Convict them.

Protect others.

Bring consequences where consequences are necessary.

But heal them too.

Reach whatever is broken in them.

Draw them toward You.

And please don't let what they did create something inside me that begins looking like what hurt me.

That's a hard prayer.

But maybe that's where forgiveness begins becoming freedom.

Forgiveness Can Include Praying for Them

Jesus said:

"But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;" Matthew 5:44 (KJV)

That can be difficult.

Especially when someone hasn't apologized.

Especially when they don't understand what they did.

Especially when we're still living with the consequences of their choices.

But maybe forgiveness eventually becomes more than:

God, help me forgive them.

Maybe it becomes:

Father, forgive them.

Jesus demonstrated this while He was being crucified.

"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." Luke 23:34 (KJV)

Think about when He said it.

Not years later.

Not after everyone apologized.

Not after they understood what they had done.

Not after the wounds had healed.

While He was being wounded.

Father, forgive them.

There is something powerful about releasing someone that completely into God's hands.

Maybe we've prayed:

God, I forgive them.

But eventually forgiveness can become:

God, please forgive them too.

Have mercy on them.

Bring them into truth.

Heal whatever is broken inside them.

Free them from whatever is keeping them bound.

Draw them close to You.

Don't let what they did become the end of their story either.

And bless them.

That last part may be difficult.

Because sometimes we don't want God to bless someone who hurt us.

Part of us may think:

After what they did?

But asking God to bless someone doesn't mean asking Him to reward wrongdoing.

Maybe the greatest blessings we could ask God to give them are exactly the things they need most.

Truth.

Conviction.

Repentance.

Healing.

Wisdom.

Humility.

Freedom.

Healthy relationships.

A restored heart.

A deeper relationship with Christ.

Maybe that's one of the deepest ways we can begin releasing someone:

God, I don't want destruction for them. I want redemption.

We Can Want Their Healing Without Returning to the Relationship

Praying for someone's forgiveness and healing doesn't mean we have to return to the relationship.

We can pray:

Father, forgive them.

And still maintain a necessary boundary.

We can ask God to heal someone and recognize that we may not be the person He uses to walk beside them through that healing.

We can pray for their restoration without restoring their access to us.

We can ask God to bless their future without believing we have to be part of it.

That's important.

Because sometimes loving someone from a distance is still love.

Maybe forgiveness eventually reaches a place where we can say:

God, I genuinely want good for them.

Not because what they did was good.

Not because I'm pretending it didn't hurt.

Not because accountability no longer matters.

Not because trust has automatically returned.

But because I don't want their brokenness to keep destroying them or spilling onto the people around them.

Heal them.

Reach them.

Forgive them.

Change them.

Bless them with whatever draws them closer to You.

And then we release them.

Sometimes This Prayer Changes Us Too

Maybe we're not ready to mean all of that the first time we pray it.

God knows.

We don't need to perform forgiveness for Him.

Maybe the first honest prayer is:

God, I know I'm supposed to want good for them, but right now I don't.

Help me.

Then maybe:

God, I don't want to hate them anymore.

Then:

God, heal them.

And eventually:

Father, forgive them.

Bless them.

Draw them to You.

Sometimes forgiveness grows as God continues healing us.

And somewhere in those prayers, something begins changing inside our own heart.

We're no longer asking:

How can they pay for what they did?

We're beginning to ask:

How can redemption reach both of us?

Their redemption doesn't undo our wound.

Our healing doesn't excuse their sin.

Their forgiveness doesn't eliminate appropriate consequences.

And our prayer for their restoration doesn't require our participation in their life.

But the cross is big enough for both.

Maybe that's one of the deepest places forgiveness can take us:

I don't need you destroyed for me to be restored.

I can ask God to heal me.

And I can ask Him to heal you too.

I can ask Him to forgive me.

And I can ask:

Father, forgive them too.

Then I can release both of us into His hands.

Understanding Someone Isn't the Same as Excusing Them

As healing progresses, sometimes we begin seeing the person who hurt us differently.

Maybe we recognize their fear.

Their insecurity.

Their wounds.

Their history.

Maybe we realize:

They were hurting too.

That can create compassion.

But compassion doesn't require rewriting what happened.

Understanding why someone responded a certain way doesn't mean the response was acceptable.

A wound may explain behavior.

It doesn't automatically excuse behavior.

We can say:

I understand more now about what may have been happening inside you.

And:

What happened still wasn't okay.

Both can be true.

Maybe forgiveness eventually allows us to see someone as more than what they did to us.

Not because what they did becomes smaller.

Because Christ becomes bigger.

We Have to Be Careful Not to Become What Hurt Us

This may be one of the most important reasons forgiveness matters.

Unforgiveness doesn't stay neatly contained.

Bitterness leaks.

Maybe someone lied to us.

Now we become suspicious of everyone.

Someone controlled us.

Now we become controlling because we're terrified of being controlled again.

Someone rejected us.

Now we reject first so nobody can do it to us.

Someone spoke harshly to us.

Now our anger gives us permission to speak harshly back.

Someone refused accountability.

Now we're so focused on proving their wrong that we stop examining our own behavior.

And slowly, something someone else did begins producing something inside us.

That's dangerous.

Not because we're suddenly the same as the person who hurt us.

But because wounds can reproduce themselves if they aren't healed.

Forgiveness interrupts that cycle.

It says:

What you did affected me.

But I will not allow what you did to decide who I become.

Forgiving Ourselves Can Be Hard Too

Sometimes the person we're still punishing is ourselves.

We know God forgives us.

We've read the verses.

We've confessed.

We've repented.

Maybe we've apologized.

Maybe we've changed.

And yet we keep returning to what we did.

I should have known better.

I should have seen it.

I shouldn't have said that.

I shouldn't have made that decision.

I wasted so much time.

I hurt someone.

I failed.

Maybe there are consequences we still have to live with.

Forgiveness doesn't erase them.

But repentance and self punishment aren't the same thing.

Scripture says:

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." 1 John 1:9 (KJV)

If God has forgiven what we've genuinely brought to Him, continuing to condemn ourselves doesn't make our repentance more sincere.

Sometimes humility means accepting mercy.

We learn.

We make amends where possible.

We change what needs changing.

And eventually we stop trying to pay a debt Christ already paid.

But What Does It Mean to Forgive Yourself?

Maybe even that phrase needs clarification.

We aren't the source of our own forgiveness.

Christ is.

So perhaps "forgiving ourselves" really means agreeing with what God has already done.

I confessed it.

I repented.

I made what I could make right.

There may still be consequences.

There may still be grief.

There may still be someone who doesn't trust me.

There may still be things I wish I could undo.

But Christ's forgiveness is still true.

Maybe we don't need to declare ourselves innocent.

Maybe we need to accept that we were guilty and were shown mercy.

That's grace.

And grace can be harder to receive than we think.

Because punishment can sometimes make us feel like we're doing something.

Grace requires us to admit that we cannot pay for everything ourselves.

Christ already did.

Sometimes We Need to Forgive Who We Were

Maybe we look backward at ourselves with information we didn't have then.

Why didn't I see it?

Why did I stay?

Why did I leave?

Why did I trust them?

Why didn't I trust them?

Why did I react like that?

Why wasn't I stronger?

Why didn't I know better?

But the person we were then didn't know everything we know now.

Maybe we were afraid.

Maybe we were wounded.

Maybe we were surviving.

Maybe we made a genuinely bad choice.

Maybe we simply made the best choice we knew how to make with what we understood at the time.

We can learn without despising who we were.

We can look backward with truth and compassion.

I wish I had done differently.

And:

God has taught me since then.

Both can be true.

Maybe healing means we stop demanding that yesterday's version of ourselves possess today's wisdom.

Forgiveness Doesn't Mean We Stop Grieving

Sometimes we forgive someone and still feel sad.

That can confuse us.

I thought I forgave them.

Why does this still hurt?

Because forgiveness and grief aren't the same thing.

Forgiveness releases a debt.

Grief mourns a loss.

Maybe we forgive someone and still grieve the relationship we wish we'd had.

Maybe we forgive and still grieve years we cannot recover.

Maybe we forgive and still grieve what our family experienced.

Maybe we forgive ourselves and still wish we'd made a different choice.

The presence of grief doesn't automatically mean forgiveness failed.

Sometimes we're simply mourning something forgiveness cannot return.

And grief needs room too.

Freedom Doesn't Mean Nothing Happened

Maybe this is the part I want us to understand most.

Freedom doesn't mean the story disappears.

It doesn't mean we never feel anything again.

It doesn't mean every relationship gets restored.

It doesn't mean there are no consequences.

Freedom means what happened no longer owns us.

I can remember without becoming consumed.

I can tell the truth without hatred.

I can maintain a boundary without bitterness.

I can pray for someone without needing access to them.

I can acknowledge what something cost without spending my life demanding repayment.

I can allow God to deal with another person's heart while remaining responsible for mine.

I can acknowledge my own failure without making failure my identity.

That's freedom.

Maybe Forgiveness Is Another Form of Surrender

We've already talked about surrendering circumstances.

Outcomes.

People.

Questions.

Maybe forgiveness is surrender too.

God, I'm giving You the debt.

I'm giving You my right to personally make sure this person pays emotionally for what happened.

I'm giving You the apology I may never receive.

I'm giving You the years I cannot get back.

I'm giving You the conversation that may never happen.

I'm giving You my need to be vindicated.

I'm giving You the version of the story I wish had happened instead.

And I'm trusting You with justice.

That doesn't mean I stop caring about what is right.

It means I stop believing I have to carry the debt in order for what happened to matter.

God already knows it mattered.

What If I Have to Forgive Again Tomorrow?

Then forgive again tomorrow.

Not because today's forgiveness wasn't real.

Because sometimes the heart remembers in layers.

Maybe something resurfaces.

Bring it back to God.

Maybe anger comes.

Tell Him.

Maybe grief comes.

Grieve.

Maybe you realize there is another part of the debt you've been holding.

Release that too.

Forgiveness isn't pretending:

This never bothers me anymore.

Sometimes forgiveness says:

This still hurts.

And I am still choosing not to let the hurt decide who I become.

That's a very different kind of strength.

Questions to Carry Forward

Is there someone whose debt I'm still mentally trying to collect?

Have I confused forgiveness with saying what happened was acceptable?

Have I believed forgiveness requires reconciliation or restored access?

Am I waiting for an apology before allowing myself to forgive?

When painful memories return, do I use them as an opportunity to surrender again or to put someone back on trial?

Is there part of me that needs another person to suffer, regret, or understand before I believe I can have peace?

Can I pursue appropriate accountability without becoming consumed with punishment?

Can I pray for someone who hurt me without pretending what they did was okay?

Have I allowed another person's wounds to begin reproducing themselves through me?

Am I still punishing myself for something I've genuinely confessed and repented of?

Am I asking yesterday's version of myself to have known everything I know today?

Is some of what I'm calling unforgiveness actually grief that still needs to be acknowledged?

And perhaps the question to carry forward:

Can I trust God enough with justice that I no longer need to carry the debt myself?

"Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful." Luke 6:36 (KJV)

"If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed." John 8:36 (KJV)

"We love him, because he first loved us." 1 John 4:19 (KJV)