In the past year, I wrote down notes and notes about forgiveness. A little nugget here, a small insight there. From people sharing wisdom, to books, to random social media posts. I amassed a large collection. I gave my notes to chatGPT and asked it to organize my notes and thoughts into one cohesive reflection on everything I learned in the past year. What it came up with I could not have written better myself. So, I decided to share it here, and I pray some part of it touches you and gives you a little bit of freedom.

The Freedom of Forgiveness

I learned this year that unforgiveness is heavy.

Not heavy in a poetic way. Heavy in a spiritual, emotional, physical way. Heavy like carrying a trap around my leg instead of letting the wound heal. Heavy like a dark cloud following me around. Heavy like willingly wearing chains while Jesus stands before me offering freedom.

I began to realize that the burden of unforgiveness was never mine to carry.

I cannot change what happened. What I can control is my forgiveness.

That realization became a turning point for me. So much of my pain came from replaying conversations, reliving betrayals, imagining different outcomes, trying to understand people who hurt me, and mentally defending myself in invisible courtrooms that never ended. I wanted closure. I wanted vindication. I wanted justice. I wanted people to understand what they did.

But forgiveness slowly taught me something different.

Freedom is not found in the past.

Closure is not understanding. It is acceptance.

There comes a point where you realize that looking back only turns you into a pillar of salt. There is a cost to constantly revisiting pain. There is a discipline required to move forward. I learned that rumination feels productive, but it is not healing. Understanding the attack does not heal the wound. Jesus heals the wound.

Healing does not come from understanding the attack. It comes from Jesus.

I began learning that unforgiveness is not passive. It grows. It spreads roots. It reshapes how you see everything. When we retain offense in our hearts, we filter everything through it. Even innocent interactions begin to feel threatening when bitterness takes root.

If you think about the offense for more than ten minutes, you risk it taking root.

Put the fire out all the way.

Chip away at unforgiveness one offense at a time.

I learned that offense thrives in pride.

Pride keeps offense alive. Humility kills it.

That was difficult to admit because pain feels justified. Hurt feels righteous. But Jesus never called me to justify my bitterness. He called me to surrender it.

It is not about being right. It is about being righteous.

Forgiveness is a decision of the will, not the emotions.

Feelings change after forgiveness, not before it.

Forgiveness is an act of obedience.

That changed everything for me.

I spent so much time waiting to feel forgiving before forgiving. But forgiveness is not a feeling. It is a choice made in faith. Sometimes repeatedly. Sometimes daily. Sometimes every few minutes.

Forgive them and forgive them and forgive them and forgive them.

Seventy times seven.

Like a farmer watering a plant over and over.

I learned that forgiveness is less like a lightning strike and more like exercise. One push-up at a time. One prayer at a time. One surrendered thought at a time.

Exercise forgiveness like a workout.

The more you practice forgiveness, the easier it becomes.

At times, I did not even want to pray for people who hurt me.

It felt impossible.

But I learned that not wanting to pray for someone says nothing about their character and everything about my pride.

So I started small.

Sometimes all I could pray was:

“God, bless them somehow.”

And even that felt painful.

But surrender often feels painful before it feels freeing.

Jesus did not deserve what was done to Him on the cross.

Yet He accepted it and found victory through surrender, humiliation, and forgiving those who hurt Him.

I did not deserve many of the things that happened to me either.

But my victory would not come through bitterness, retaliation, hatred, or revenge.

My victory would come through surrender.

Through forgiveness.

Through becoming more like Jesus.

The test of loving is not loving Jesus. It is loving Judas.

That sentence pierced me deeply.

It is easy to love kind people.

Phileo love says:

“You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”

“You treat me kindly, I will do the same.”

But agape love gives even when rejected.

It blesses even when wounded.

It loves without demanding repayment.

Jesus loved people who betrayed Him.

And if I call myself a Christian, then I cannot only hold Jesus’ hand when it is convenient.

I saw myself clearly in that realization.

Jesus is my Lord.

But how often did I let go of His hand to run toward rumination, revenge, pride, bitterness, retaliation, self-protection, or offense?

Then, after those things wounded me further, I would run back to Him again.

I began realizing that Christianity is not merely believing in Jesus.

It is following Him.

Being a Christian means living a life of forgiveness.

That is what the whole religion is about.

I learned that unforgiveness does not merely hurt emotions.

It damages the soul.

It poisons thoughts.

It hardens the heart.

It affects the body.

It suppresses peace.

Unforgiveness and anger cause destruction internally.

Forgiveness, however, creates freedom.

Unforgiveness is slavery.

Forgiveness is freedom.

There were moments I realized I had become mentally trapped by people who probably were not thinking about me at all.

I was carrying offenses like weights.

Defending myself in imaginary courtrooms.

Replaying scenes repeatedly.

Holding onto the need to be understood.

But holding onto offense makes me the judge.

That role belongs to God.

Throw the court case out.

God is my defender.

Forgiveness means letting God judge my offender instead of judging them myself.

That does not mean what happened was okay.

Forgiveness does not mean the offense was acceptable.

If there were nothing wrong, there would be no need for forgiveness.

But I learned that releasing someone to God is different than excusing them.

“In faith, I choose to forgive.”

“I choose to release them to God.”

I repeated those words many times.

Sometimes through tears.

Sometimes without emotion.

Sometimes angrily.

But eventually the repetition began changing me.

I started understanding that forgiveness is not primarily about the other person.

It is about my character.

My obedience.

My relationship with God.

Nothing is worth my relationship with God.

No offense.

No betrayal.

No humiliation.

No rejection.

I also began seeing people differently.

This is the first time they are living too.

People are human.

People make devastating mistakes.

People act out of wounds, pride, fear, selfishness, trauma, insecurity, blindness, and sin.

And I am no different.

I am also a sinner.

The only reason I can stand forgiven before God is grace.

You cannot say, “I would never.”

God’s grace is the only reason you are not doing the same kinds of things.

That realization humbled me.

I remembered how much I have been forgiven for.

I remembered that I betrayed Jesus repeatedly through sin.

Yet He still forgives me.

You were forgiven of an unimaginable debt.

You can forgive someone for far less.

I learned that someone quick to repent is one of the freest people alive.

Pride chains people.

Humility frees them.

I also learned that the walls we build for self-protection eventually become prisons.

Walls of protection become a source of torment and destruction.

If we never risk being hurt, we cannot truly love.

Unconditional love gives others the right to hurt us.

That realization frightened me.

But it also taught me trust.

The walls I build will never protect me as well as God can.

My self-protection often wounds others.

God’s protection leads toward healing and reconciliation.

I learned that offense often reveals deeper wounds.

If something offends me deeply, I should ask why.

What inside me still needs healing?

Sometimes offense exposed pride.

Sometimes insecurity.

Sometimes fear.

Sometimes unmet expectations.

Offense happens when expectations are not met.

I also realized that many things people say are more revealing of them than of me.

Someone’s perception of me is often a reflection of themselves.

People cannot reject who God says I am.

If I live by the approval of others, I will die by their rejection.

So I began learning to live for God instead.

It does not matter what people say or do to me.

I belong to God.

That identity changes everything.

When identity is secure in Christ, offense loses power.

You can let people off the hook when you truly know who you are in Christ.

I also learned that spiritual warfare is real.

My battle is not ultimately against flesh and blood.

The enemy wants division, bitterness, isolation, hatred, pride, revenge, and destruction.

If people hurt me and I allow the offense to destroy me, then the enemy wins.

So I began praying differently.

I prayed for God to remove every stronghold, every whisper tempting me toward unforgiveness and revenge.

I prayed for rumination to leave.

I prayed for God’s Spirit to fill me with grace, kindness, light, and forgiveness until it overflowed naturally onto others.

I learned that you cannot give something you have not first received.

You forgive by first receiving God’s forgiveness.

And if you are not ready to give forgiveness yet, then keep receiving.

Spend more time with Jesus.

The answer is always Jesus.

To know Jesus is to know forgiveness.

I learned that forgiveness is not weakness.

It is power.

A superpower.

The world sees revenge as strength.

Jesus calls surrender strength.

The world sees retaliation as power.

Jesus says:

“Turn the other cheek.”

“Bless those who curse you.”

“Pray for those who hurt you.”

“Love your enemies.”

That kind of love feels impossible.

But all things are possible with God.

I began understanding that mature forgiveness is not merely forgiving after taking offense.

True freedom is reaching the point where offense never fully enters the heart in the first place.

Getting to the place where you do not need to forgive because you never took the offense in.

That level of freedom amazed me.

Not numbness.

Not passivity.

Not pretending hurt does not exist.

But genuine spiritual freedom.

The kind of freedom where negativity no longer finds a home inside you.

I learned there is a cost to every negative thought we entertain.

So I began trying to reject even small seeds of bitterness.

No revenge.

No retaliation.

No rehearsed arguments.

No secret hatred.

No silent punishment.

Because you can murder with your heart, your tongue, your mind, your silence.

I learned that love covers offenses.

Light overcomes darkness.

Goodness overcomes evil.

And forgiveness restores peace.

I also learned that forgiveness is not always instant.

Sometimes you must forgive one offense at a time.

One memory at a time.

One wound at a time.

Sometimes healing is slow.

But every act of surrender weakens bitterness.

Every prayer loosens chains.

Every choice toward forgiveness rewires the mind toward peace.

“I release the hold this has on me.”

“I choose peace, not bitterness.”

“I do not need this to define me.”

“I am not carrying this anymore.”

Those words became reminders that I do not have to keep dragging pain into my future.

I learned that my closure is not understanding every offense.

My closure is knowing I chose righteousness.

I did the right thing.

I forgave.

I surrendered.

I obeyed God.

And God will handle the rest.

God vindicates.

God restores.

God defends.

My reward is God Himself.

Not revenge.

Not validation.

Not human approval.

Just Him.

I learned that the person who hurt me is still someone God loves.

That alone changes how I should speak about them.

Think about them.

Pray for them.

Treat them.

Honor all people because that is who I am called to be.

Not because they earned it.

Because Jesus honored me when I did not deserve it.

And perhaps the greatest lesson of all was this:

Forgiveness is not losing.

Forgiveness is freedom.

Freedom from bitterness.

Freedom from pride.

Freedom from rumination.

Freedom from hatred.

Freedom from the exhausting need to prove myself.

Freedom from carrying people in my mind who were never meant to live there.

Forgiveness is giving someone safe passage through your mind.

And the more I learned to release others, the more peace I found myself receiving.

Not because the past changed.

Not because everyone apologized.

Not because every wound disappeared.

But because Jesus kept teaching me how to let go.

And in letting go, I finally began to understand what freedom feels like.

For further reading about forgiveness, I recommend The Bait of Satan by John Bevere