Forgive Them Anyway
Forgiveness is one of those things that sounds really good in theory…until you actually have to do it. Especially when the person you’re trying to forgive has never once acknowledged the pain they’ve caused you. No apology. No ownership. Just continued hurt.
And it’s even harder when that person is a loved one. Because the wounds go deeper. You don’t just carry the pain; you carry the history. The years. The words. The weight of what you hoped it would be but never was.
During confession recently, I told the priest that I’ve been having a really hard time forgiving certain family members. Not just because of what they’ve done in the past, but because they’re still doing it. And you know what he said?
He looked at me and gently said, “And yet here you are asking your heavenly Father to forgive you.”
Ouch! I honestly just sat there and stared at him for a moment before I could move on because, he was right.
Every time I go to confession, I’m asking God to forgive me for the same sins I keep struggling with. Every time I fall short, I’m essentially hurting Him again. And yet… He forgives me. Every single time. No hesitation. No cold shoulder. Just grace.
So then why is it so hard for me to do the same?
Matthew 6:14-15 says, “For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”
That verse isn’t easy to swallow. It doesn’t give us an out. It doesn’t say “only if they apologize” or “only if they change.” It just says forgive. And I’ve struggled with that. I’ve held on to bitterness. I’ve replayed the offense. I’ve waited for an apology that may never come.
But forgiveness isn’t about the other person, it’s about freedom. It’s about releasing the grip that pain has on your heart. It’s about giving God the space to heal you without the infection of resentment still festering inside.
St. Augustine once said, “Resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies.” That one stings, doesn’t it?
And St. John Chrysostom said, “We imitate Christ most perfectly when we forgive those who sin against us.” Because let’s not forget, Jesus forgave the ones who nailed Him to the cross. While they were still doing it. “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” (Luke 23:34) He didn’t wait until they apologized. He didn’t wait until they understood. He forgave them in the middle of the pain. In the middle of the cruelty. In the middle of it all.
That’s the model we’ve been given. That’s the call.
And no, that doesn’t mean you pretend like nothing happened. It doesn’t mean you let people walk all over you or put yourself back in toxic situations. Boundaries are still important. But forgiveness is about your heart. It’s about letting go of what they’ll never make right so God can begin to make you whole.
I’m still learning how to do that. I’m still asking God daily to soften my heart. To help me let go. To teach me how to forgive even when I’m still hurting.
Because the truth is, when I withhold forgiveness, I’m the one who suffers. The anger. The stress. The anxiety. The weight of it all sits on my shoulders, not theirs.
And I don’t want to carry that anymore.
So if you’re there too, trying to heal from pain that’s never been acknowledged, just know you’re not alone. This is hard. But it’s not impossible.
Forgive them anyway. Not because they deserve it, but because you deserve peace. Because you deserve healing. Because God has something better for you than bitterness.
And because Jesus already showed us how.
Lord, I’ve been holding on to hurt that’s never been acknowledged. You know the pain. You’ve seen the wounds. And I know You’re not asking me to pretend it didn’t happen. You’re just asking me to forgive. Help me release what I’ve been gripping so tightly. Teach me how to forgive like You, fully and freely, even when there’s no apology. Even when they keep hurting me. Heal my heart where it’s been broken, and help me walk in the kind of freedom only You can give.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.