Forgiveness is one of the simplest words in the Bible and one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to live
For me, forgiveness has not been a sweet, tidy moment where I whisper, “Okay, I forgive you,” and everything feels lighter. It has been stretching, painful, confusing, and holy.
There have been days it literally hurt to even pray for certain people. My chest would tighten, my stomach would twist, and the tears would start before I finished the first sentence. On some of those days, my fiancé Greg had to pray out loud for my family while I just sat there and whispered, “Yes, Lord,” in agreement—because saying the words myself felt like too much. Both of us genuinely pray for my family earnestly every single day, even in the middle of all the hurt. I’ve learned that God honors even that shaky, whispered yes when the cost feels high.
And honestly, part of the pain and even annoyance in this process has been hearing people who haven’t walked this journey with me—people who haven’t asked for my side or sat with the depth of what happened—tell me to “just forgive.” Usually, the hope is that things will calm down and I’ll be the “bigger person,” as if forgiveness is a quick switch I can flip to make everyone more comfortable. What they don’t see is the deep work God and I are doing underneath: the grief, the boundaries, the rebuilding, the slow and costly yes. Forgiveness isn’t a shortcut to avoid conflict; it’s a path God is shaping in me, step by step.
And I want to be clear: my forgiveness journey has not been clean or pretty. I have not been perfectly holy, calm, and graceful at every step. There have been moments I didn’t even know where to begin, and times I honestly didn’t know if I would ever actually be able to forgive. All I knew was that God was calling me to it, that His Word was clear, and that if He was asking me to forgive, He would also be the One to help me do it.
This is what my forgiveness journey has actually looked like.
Remembering What It Cost Jesus to Forgive Me
A few years ago I wrote a paper called “Forgiveness: The Legacy of Christ.” I spent months studying how God talks about forgiveness, what the words mean in Scripture, and what Jesus actually went through to reconcile us to God. That work changed me.
I was reminded that:
- God knew that creating us would mean the death of His Son—and He did it anyway.
- Our sin isn’t “no big deal.” Even one sin is enough to separate us from a holy God.
- For centuries, people depended on priests and animal sacrifices just to temporarily cover their sins.
- Jesus stepped into that story as the perfect, sinless sacrifice, fully God and fully human, to carry the full weight of our sin on Himself.
The cross wasn’t clean or symbolic. It was torture. Jesus was beaten, humiliated, and nailed to a cross, and while He was still in that pain, while people were actively killing Him and not apologizing, He prayed:
“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.”
That is the standard of forgiveness I’m staring at.
God’s forgiveness of me is not casual or cheap. It cost Him everything. So when He commands me to forgive, He’s not asking me to do something He hasn’t done. He’s inviting me to live out the legacy of what Jesus already paid for.
What Forgiveness Is Not
Part of my journey has been unlearning what I thought forgiveness was supposed to look like.
Forgiveness is not:
- A feeling.
- Forgetting what happened.
- Saying, “It didn’t really matter.”
- Reconciliation at all costs.
- Staying in relationship with someone who is unsafe or abusive.
- A big dramatic conversation where everyone hugs it out and suddenly agrees on the past.
Sometimes, the safest and most God-honoring way to forgive is quietly, between my heart and my Heavenly Father, especially if the other person doesn’t see the wrong or isn’t ready to hear it. God still sees that forgiveness. He honors it, even when there is no apology and no reconciliation.
Forgiveness is not pretending I’m not hurt. Jesus forgave while He was in pain, with no apology and no promise that the people at His feet would ever change. Forgiveness doesn’t mean what they did was okay. It means I am choosing to surrender their debt to the One who has the right to judge perfectly.
Forgiveness and Telling the Truth About My Story
Forgiving someone also does not mean I have to stay quiet about what I’ve been through.
The things that happened to me—the good, the bad, and the really ugly—shaped me. They are part of my story, and a huge part of my healing has been actually naming the hurt out loud. That’s built into the recovery process: openly examining and confessing my hurts, hang-ups, and habits to myself, to God, and to someone I trust.
Me talking about my experience is not:
- Smearing anyone.
- Being vindictive.
- Trying to turn people against each other.
It is me being honest.
What I’ve walked through is part of my testimony. As it turns out, we can actually help each other when we talk about these things, when we stop pretending, and when we share our stories with others who are hurting. Telling the truth about my pain and patterns doesn’t cancel forgiveness—it often makes forgiveness possible, because I’m no longer minimizing what happened or hiding it in the dark.
What Forgiveness Is (For Me Right Now)
For me, forgiveness has looked like:
- Taking one step forward and one and a half steps back.
- Choosing obedience when my feelings are screaming the opposite.
- Laying the same people down at Jesus’ feet again and again and again.
- Trusting God to be my defender when I want to defend myself.
- Loving God enough to say “yes” even when it costs me.
Forgiveness, for me, feels a lot like the sanctification process.
Sanctification is that lifelong journey of God shaping us to look more like Jesus—sometimes gently, sometimes through fire. In the same way, forgiveness has been a process of surrender and obedience and love. Not a one-time event, but an ongoing work of the Holy Spirit in my heart.
My forgiveness prayer often sounds like this:
“God, help me lay them down at Your feet. Do what only You can do in my heart, and do as You see fit in their life. I surrender them and myself to You.”
It’s quiet.
It’s intimate.
It’s between my heart and my Father’s heart.
Most days, I can genuinely say, “I have forgiven them.” On some days, the hurt, resentment, or even bitterness flare up again—and on those days I pray that same prayer, sometimes through tears. Forgiveness, for me, is intentional. It doesn’t happen by accident or by “waiting long enough.” It’s a choice I bring to God over and over.
Celebrate Recovery and Not Forgiving Alone
A huge part of my journey has been realizing that I don’t have to do this alone.
Some months ago, my fiancé invited me to go with him to Celebrate Recovery (CR). I was excited but also nervous. Walking into that room turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.
CR is a Christ-centered recovery program for people dealing with all kinds of hurts, habits, and hang-ups—not just addiction. In the main meetings, the room is full of all different kinds of people and stories. But my small group, where I actually share my heart, is a circle of women. That group of women has become sacred space for me.
There, I found people who were all working through very different stories but standing on the same ground:
All hurting.
All healing.
All needing God to do it.
They came alongside me. They celebrated every little victory, no matter how small it would look to anyone on the outside:
- “I didn’t answer that message.”
- “I set a boundary and actually kept it.”
- “I prayed for them today, even though I cried the whole time.”
Through CR, I was introduced to the 12 Steps and the 8 Principles from the Beatitudes. Some of the ones that really shaped me were:
- Admitting I’m not God and that my life is unmanageable on my own.
- Believing that God exists, that I matter to Him, and that He has the power to help me recover.
- Choosing to commit all my life and will to Christ’s care and control.
- Honestly examining and confessing my hurts, hang-ups, and habits to God, to myself, and to someone I trust.
- Evaluating my relationships—offering forgiveness to those who hurt me and making amends where I’ve caused harm, except when doing that would cause more injury.
That last part matters: sometimes making direct amends or confronting someone would cause more harm, especially in situations involving abuse, manipulation, or ongoing denial. CR helped me see that God is not asking me to put myself back in harm’s way to “prove” I’ve forgiven.
Forgiveness is an attitude of the heart, not always a face-to-face meeting.
Forgiving From a Distance (And Keeping Boundaries)
One of the hardest parts of my journey has been accepting that I can forgive and still keep distance.
Forgiveness does not automatically mean:
- Sitting down for long, emotional conversations with the person who hurt me.
- Letting them back into the same level of access in my life.
- Pretending history didn’t happen.
- Ignoring patterns of harm because I’m “being Christ-like.”
Sometimes, loving God and honoring what He’s doing in my life means I forgive from a distance, while maintaining very real boundaries. Greg and I genuinely pray for my family earnestly every single day, and at the same time, I can still say, “No, I will not step back into the same unsafe dynamic.”
I believe God sees that. He knows when our “no” is coming from self-protection and wisdom, not revenge. Forgiveness and boundaries are not enemies—they actually belong together.
Practical Ways I’m Walking Out Forgiveness
Part of walking this out has meant staying grounded. I’ve had to anchor myself in real community, keep showing up at church, guard my quiet time with God, stay rooted in Scripture, and even let worship music wash over me on days when I couldn’t find my own words. Those rhythms don’t erase the pain, but they keep me close to the One who is healing it.
Here are some of the ways I’m currently living this out (imperfectly):
- Daily surrender: Repeating that surrender prayer—sometimes multiple times a day.
- Letting God be the Judge: Choosing not to replay arguments in my head where I “win.” Handing that role back to Him.
- Praying for blessing, not just “fix them”: Asking God to work in their hearts, but also to draw them closer to Himself and heal their own wounds.
- Feeling my feelings with God: Being honest about my pain instead of pretending I’m “over it.”
- Leaning on community and the Church: Staying connected to my CR small group, my church family, my Bible time, my quiet time, and even worship music that reminds me who God is when I feel weak.
- Holding boundaries: Keeping distance where needed, even when guilt tries to tell me I’m being unloving.
- Returning to the cross: Regularly reminding myself what it cost Jesus to forgive me, so I don’t treat forgiveness lightly—either what I’ve received or what I’m called to give.
Forgiveness as the Legacy of Christ
In my studies and in my own story, I’ve come to this simple, heavy conclusion: forgiveness is a command, a gift, and a legacy Jesus left us.
When I forgive, I am not:
- Saying the hurt didn’t matter.
- Saying the relationship has to look the same.
- Saying there are no consequences.
I am saying:
- I trust God more than I trust my own desire to hold onto debt.
- I believe the cross was enough—for their sin and for mine.
- I choose to reflect the heart of the One who forgave me first.
Forgiveness, for me, has become less about “feeling ready” and more about answering a question:
Is my love for God—and my desire to live in the freedom Jesus died to give me—worth more than holding onto this offense?
Most days, by His grace, my answer is yes.
On the days when it feels like a shaky, whispered yes, He still meets me there.
And that, to me, is the real miracle of forgiveness.