Forgiveness After Deep Hurt: Freedom Without Denial

When someone has been deeply hurt, I’ve learned that I can’t begin by demanding forgiveness from them, or by quoting verses at them like band-aids. I have to start by acknowledging what their heart already knows: the pain was real, the injustice was real, and what happened mattered. Forgiveness is not God telling us, “Pretend it didn’t happen.” Forgiveness is God showing us a way to stop being owned by what happened. That’s why, when I explain forgiveness, I need to begin with what it is not. Forgiveness is not excusing evil. It is not calling evil “good.” It is not saying, “You didn’t hurt me.” It is not forgetting. It is not automatically restoring access to someone who proved they were unsafe. Scripture never commands me to be naïve. It does command me to be free. And that leads to what forgiveness actually is. 

 

Forgiveness is releasing the debt, releasing my right to personally collect payment. It is handing the case to the only Judge who can judge righteously. That’s why Romans tells me plainly, “Do not avenge yourselves… for it is written, ‘Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,’ says the Lord” (Rom 12:19). When I forgive, I’m not declaring the offender innocent. I’m declaring that God is Judge, and I am not. I’m choosing to stop replaying the offense as if my bitterness will fix it. This is where many people get stuck: they want the offender to admit what they did. They want the harm acknowledged. And that desire is understandable. But if my ability to forgive depends on the other person having a repentant heart, then I have placed my freedom in their hands. Jesus doesn’t put our freedom in the offender’s hands. He puts it in God the Father’s hands.

 

That’s why Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 18 cuts so deep. Peter asked the question we all ask in our own way: “How often shall I forgive?” Jesus answered, “Up to seventy times seven” (Matt 18:21–22). Then He told the parable of the servant who was forgiven a crushing debt, but refused to forgive a smaller debt (Matt 18:23–35). The point is not that the second debt didn’t matter. The point is that the unforgiving servant was living as if he had never been forgiven at all. And I’ll say it the way I would say it to myself: unforgiveness is a prison. When I refuse to forgive, I’m still tied to the person and the moment that hurt me. I can cut them off, move away, act tough, and still be chained inside. That’s why Hebrews warns about “any root of bitterness springing up” that causes trouble and defiles many (Heb 12:15). Bitterness does not stay contained. It spreads. It reshapes how we see life, people, God, and even ourselves. 

 

So I tell the deeply hurt person the truth: forgiveness is not first about the offender’s comfort; it is about our freedom. It is about refusing to let that hurt become the center of our identity. Love “thinks no evil” (1 Cor 13:5), not meaning love becomes blind, but meaning love refuses to keep a running record, refuses to live on the constant replay. Proverbs puts it plainly: “He who covers a transgression seeks love, but he who repeats a matter separates friends” (Prov 17:9). Sometimes we repeat it because we’re trying to make the other person feel what we felt. But it doesn’t heal us. It just keeps the wound open. 

 

Now, this is where I slow down and get a bit more biblical or pastoral: forgiveness is often a process.Jesus’ “seventy times seven” is not a math problem; it’s a way of saying you may have to forgive again and again as the memory and the emotion resurface. That doesn’t mean you failed. That means you’re human. That means you’re healing. Some days you forgive with clarity, and some days you forgive with tears. And that’s why the gospel matters here, not as a weapon, but as the foundation. 

 

Scripture keeps bringing me back to this: we forgive because we have been forgiven. “Forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you” (Eph 4:32). “As Christ forgave you, so you also must do” (Col 3:13). God did not merely overlook our sins. He dealt with them. He covered them with mercy. He removed them “as far as the east is from the west” (Ps 103:12). He invites us, “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow” (Isa 1:18). And He promises cleansing when we confess: “He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins” (1 John 1:9). Even Micah says it in a way that should amaze us all: God “delights in mercy” and “will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea” (Micah 7:18–19). That is not a small forgiveness. 

 

So when I talk about forgiving others, I’m not talking about pretending their sin didn’t matter. I’m talking about learning to live like someone who has received mercy I did not deserve. Romans says it plainly: “All have sinned and fall short… being justified freely by His grace” (Rom 3:23–24). If God has dealt with me like that, then forgiveness is not optional in my walk; it is part of who I am becoming in Christ. But here is the honesty I won’t dodge: forgiveness does not mean reconciliation is automatic. Jesus Himself said, “If your brother sins against you, rebuke him; and if he repents, forgive him” (Luke 17:3–4). Repentance matters. Trust is rebuilt over time. And if the situation involved abuse, cruelty, or ongoing danger, then forgiveness must be paired with wisdom and safety. Romans says, “If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men” (Rom 12:18). That verse quietly admits something: sometimes it is not possible. Sometimes peace requires boundaries. 

 

Even Jesus on the cross forgave, saying, “Father, forgive them” (Luke 23:34), but that did not mean He called evil “good.” It meant He refused to be mastered by hatred. Stephen echoed that same spirit: “Lord, do not charge them with this sin” (Acts 7:60). That kind of forgiveness is supernatural. It does not come from denial. It comes from belonging to God. That’s where our comfort comes in: we don’t have to carry the case anymore. We don’t have to stay trapped in the courtroom of our own mind. God is Judge. God is not confused. God is not manipulated. God is not blind. And if we release the offender into God’s hands, we are not saying, “It didn’t matter.” We are saying, “It mattered enough to hand it to the One who judges perfectly.” 

 

Joseph lived that out when he faced the very people who meant to destroy him. He didn’t deny the evil. He named it: “You meant evil against me.” But he also named the larger reality: “God meant it for good” (Gen 50:20). Then he chose a posture of mercy and provision: “Do not be afraid… I will provide” (Gen 50:19–21). That is what forgiveness looks like when God has healed the soul: the wound is not forgotten, but it is no longer in control. 

 

So when someone asks me how to explain forgiveness to the deeply hurt, I say it like this: Forgiveness is not saying you were not harmed. Forgiveness is saying you will not live in bondage to the harm. It is giving up personal revenge. It is releasing the debt into God’s hands. It is refusing to let bitterness become your identity. It is choosing love that “is not provoked” and “thinks no evil” (1 Cor 13:4–5), not because evil didn’t happen, but because Christ is teaching us how to live free. And if the person tells me, “I’m not ready,” I don’t shame them. I tell them the truth: bitterness is heavy, and it will not carry you safely. It will only consume you. 

 

Forgiveness may start as a prayer that feels impossible, but it can grow into a choice, and that choice can become a new way of living. And even when the apology never comes, God can still make you whole. This is the sentence I want them to walk away with: We may never receive the apology. But we can still be free because God is the One who heals us, and forgiveness is one of the ways He refuses to let our wound become our prison. 

What Does God Want Me To Let Go Of?

 What God Asks Us To Release So We Can Finally Walk Free 

 

When we ask, “What does God want me to let go of?” we are usually not asking a small question. We are asking what God wants us to release so we can finally breathe again, stop pretending, and start walking forward with a clean conscience and a steady heart. The first thing Scripture tells us is simple and direct: we cannot run well when we are tangled up. We are called to “lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us,” and to “run with endurance the race that is set before us” (Heb 12:1). God is not saying that to shame us. He is saying it because He knows the things we cling to will eventually drain us, harden us, and pull us off course. 

 

So What Does God Want Us To Let Go Of? 

 

1) God Wants Us To Let Go Of The Secret Grip Of “The Flesh.” 

There are sins that don’t just tempt us; they entangle us. They promise relief, control, and comfort, but they leave us emptier than before. That is why Scripture does not talk softly about them. It says to “put to death” what belongs to the old way of life “fornication, uncleanness, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry” (Col 3:5). It says plainly that the “lust of the flesh” is not of the Father (1 John 2:15–17). It warns that if we keep feeding what God calls dead, we should not be surprised when our peace dies too (Rom 8:5–6). And here is the hard truth I have learned: we can’t “manage” sin into submission. Jesus doesn’t tell us to negotiate with what destroys us. He tells us to deny ourselves and follow Him (Luke 9:23–24; Matt 16:24–26). That is not punishment. That is rescue. 

 

2) God Wants Us To Let Go Of Shame That Keeps Us Hiding 

There is a difference between conviction and condemnation. Conviction pulls us back toward God. Condemning shame pushes us back into isolation and old patterns. God does not call us to live double-minded, one foot toward Him and one foot toward what we know is killing us inside (James 4:7–8). When we fall, the enemy whispers, “You’re a hypocrite so stop trying.” But Christ says, “Come.” The call of Jesus is not “Come when you’re already strong.” His call is, “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28–30). That rest is not permission to stay chained. It is strength to stand up again. And the gospel truth we must not forget is this: in Christ we are not frozen in our past. “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new” (2 Cor 5:17). That does not mean we never struggle. It means we are not hopeless, and we are not stuck.

 

3) God Wants Us To Let Go Of Anxious Striving Over Provision And Control 

Many of us are carrying real burdens: family needs, bills, health concerns, the pressure to provide, and the fear of “What if it never gets better?” Jesus speaks straight into that kind of pressure: “Do not worry about your life… your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things” (Matt 6:25–34). That passage is not telling us to be irresponsible. It is telling us not to let fear become our master. God calls us to trust Him enough to obey Him, and to seek His kingdom first (Matt 6:33). He calls us to commit our way to Him and believe He can establish what we cannot stabilize on our own (Ps 37:5; Prov 16:3). And He invites us to bring our cares to Him, not as a religious slogan, but as a real transfer of weight: “Cast your burden on the Lord” (Ps 55:22) and “casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you” (1 Pet 5:6–7). 

 

4) God Wants Us To Let Go Of The Past As Our Identity Even When The Past Was Real 

Some of us carry scars that shaped how we think, react, and cope. And even when we understand that, we can still feel trapped by it. But God says, “Do not remember the former things… Behold, I will do a new thing” (Isa 43:18–19). That doesn’t erase what happened. It means God refuses to let our past have the final word. Paul’s posture helps us here: “forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward… I press toward the goal” (Phil 3:13–14). That is not denial. That is direction. It is the decision to stop living backward. 

 

5) God Wants Us To Let Go Of Anything We Love More Than Him 

This is where discipleship gets painfully personal. Jesus looked at the rich young ruler “and loved him,” then said, “One thing you lack… come, take up the cross, and follow Me” (Mark 10:21–22). The issue was not money; it was attachment (Matthew 6:21). The ruler could not let go of what had his heart. That is why Jesus says hard words like, “whoever of you does not forsake all that he has cannot be My disciple” (Luke 14:33). That doesn’t mean every Christian must sell everything. It means nothing gets to compete with Christ for the throne of our heart. If something owns us, it’s not just a habit; it’s a rival. 

 

What Does “Letting Go” Look Like? 

It looks like stopping the excuses and starting the surrender. It looks like presenting our bodies to God again honestly, “a living sacrifice” (Rom 12:1–2). It looks like walking in the Spirit instead of feeding the flesh (Gal 5:16–24). It looks like making “no provision for the flesh” (Rom 13:12–14), which means we stop setting up tomorrow’s failure while hoping for tomorrow’s victory. And when we stumble, we don’t quit. We get up. We keep moving forward. We remember the progress God has already worked in us, and we keep running the race with endurance (Heb 12:1). We don’t make peace with hypocrisy, but we also don’t live as though Christ cannot restore us. Grace teaches us to deny what is ungodly and to live uprightly right now (Titus 2:11–12). 

If I could say it in one line, it would be this: Living a double life will catch up with us, but Jesus can make us whole if we stop hiding, start surrendering, and keep walking forward no matter how many times we fall. 

Where is God in the Chaos of This Life?

Where God Is When Life Feels Like It’s Falling Apart 

 

When life feels chaotic, one of the most honest questions we can ask is, “Where is God right now?” So, what does God say about where He is in the midst of our chaotic lives, in the times of our trials? God is not absent in our chaos. God is present in it, steady, near, and strong even when everything around us feels unstable. 

 

1)    The Bible Does Not Pretend The Storm Isn’t Real. 

Psalm 46 describes the kind of chaos that makes us feel like the world is coming apart, earth giving way, mountains moving, waters roaring (Ps 46:1–3). And right in that picture, God says He is “our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” (Ps 46:1–3). That phrase “very present” matters. It means God is not far away watching us suffer from a distance. He is close enough to help. And sometimes the chaos is deeply personal loss, trauma, anxiety, a broken home, a season that feels like darkness. Psalm 23 doesn’t say we might avoid the valley. It says we walk through it. But we are not alone: “You are with me” (Ps 23:4). In other words, God doesn’t always remove the valley immediately, but He does not abandon us in it. 

 

2)    God Also Promises Something That Comforts Me When The Pressure Feels Overwhelming:

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you… when you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned” (Isa 43:2). Notice the wording: when, not if. But also notice the promise with you. The waters may rise, but God says they will not ultimately drown us. The fire may burn hot, but it will not finally consume us. This is why God keeps repeating the same promise throughout Scripture: “He will not leave you nor forsake you” (Deut 31:6), and again, “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Heb 13:5–6). That is not motivational talk. That is covenant language. It means our stability is not based on how steady we feel. It is based on God’s faithfulness.

 

3)    Sometimes Chaos Breaks Us Emotionally. 

We feel crushed, exhausted, confused, angry, numb, like we can’t carry one more thing. Scripture says God moves toward people like that: “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart” (Ps 34:18). God does not shame brokenness. He meets us in it. And what do we do when the burden is too heavy? We do what Scripture actually tells us to do: we cast it. We do not pretend. We do not hide. We do not carry it alone. “Cast your burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain you” (Ps 55:22). “Casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you” (1 Pet 5:7). That word “care” includes the things we can’t fix, the fears we can’t stop, and the grief we can’t explain. 

 

4)    Sometimes God Calms The Storm Around Us, And Sometimes He Calms The Storm Inside Us.

Psalm 107 says that when His people cry out, “He calms the storm… and guides them to their desired haven” (Ps 107:28–30). That is what God does: He guides. He leads. He brings us through. We need to remember what Jesus promised about life in this world: “In the world you will have tribulation” (John 16:33). That is realistic. But Jesus didn’t stop there: “In Me you may have peace… be of good cheer, I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). So the Christian hope is not “no trouble.” It is peace in Christ while trouble is present. 

 

5)    This Is Where Trust Becomes Practical. 

Proverbs tells us what to do when we don’t understand: trust the Lord with all our heart… acknowledge Him… and He shall direct our paths (Prov 3:5–6). That is how we walk through chaos without being ruled by it. And even when we cannot see the point, God is still working. “All things work together for good to those who love God”(Rom 8:28). That doesn’t mean every event is good. It means God is strong enough to weave even what is evil, painful, and confusing into something that will not be wasted. 

 

So where is God in the chaos? 

1.     God is our refuge in the storm (Ps 46:1–3; Ps 91:1–2). 

2.     God is with us in the valley (Ps 23:4; Isa 43:2). 

3.     God is near to the brokenhearted (Ps 34:18). 

4.     God strengthens us when we feel weak (Isa 41:10; Deut 31:6). 

5.     God sustains us when we hand Him the burden (Ps 55:22; 1 Pet 5:7). 

6.     God gives peace in Christ, even while trouble continues (John 16:33; Matt 11:28–30). 

7.     God is still good and still working, even when life is loud and confusing (Nah 1:7; Rom 8:28; Lam 3:22–23). 

 

I pray these points strengthen, encourage, and comfort, and serve as a reminder that our chaos does not cancel God’s presence. And our fear does not cancel God’s faithfulness. The storm is real, but so is our God.