Forgiving What I Can't Forget

There are some things people do to you that don’t fade with time. You can move forward, carry on with life, smile again… and still you carry the memory of what happened. Forgiveness is one of those beautiful words that sounds simple… until you actually have to live it...

I’m not exactly sure why I’m writing this today. But here I am anyway — fingers on the keyboard, determined to write from my heart, not from what feels polished or “right.” We all know what it's like to be hurt, and we have all done the hurting at some point.

I know I’ve been the offender in situations, sometimes intentionally, sometimes without realizing it, making me the source of other people’s pain. And I’ve also been on the other side--hurt by people I trusted, carrying wounds that felt unfair and undeserved, and wading through the mucky mud of bitterness. And...the work of genuine forgiveness.

Forgiveness is a tricky thing. And yet, somehow, it’s also so simple.

I don't know about you, but when I offer forgiveness, my selfish, “But where is the justice?!” feelings die a little (or maybe a lot). I feel like the person who hurt me is getting off the hook, like there are no consequences, no accountability, no payment for the pain.

But, and this is a big but, I’ve learned something about holding on to bitterness the hard way.

The bitterness I carry toward someone who has wronged me and never acknowledges it doesn’t hurt them the way I secretly want it to. It hurts me.

Self-vindication vices me.

Revenge wrecks me.

Bitterness bites me.

Bitterness spreads fast and aggressively, like something toxic growing inside my chest - dark, ugly, and consuming. And it doesn’t devour the person who caused the pain. It devours me. Where’s the justice in that?

This is where the gospel of Jesus Christ steps in, not as a cliché, but as my only real hope.

When I choose to forgive, what I’m really saying is:“Lord, You see this. You know what happened. You care. And I’m placing this injustice in Your hands instead of trying to carry it myself.”

And when, by the grace of God (and I mean that oh, so sincerely), I’m able to pray for the good of the person who hurt me, something surprisingly sacred happens. Something I can’t manufacture on my own. A release that feels… other. Holy. Freeing. Abundant.

Because the truth is, I could never forgive from my heart (especially the wounds that have cut so deeply it feels like they reached past the blood and cartilage to bone-level), without a real understanding of how deeply and generously God has forgiven me.

Grace.

I am not forgiving from my own moral strength. There is certainly not enough of that in me to sincerely forgive certain wounds. You too?

I’m forgiving from the overflow of mercy I’ve already received. I'm forgiving from a personal experience I've had with grace.

Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.

Ephesians 4:32

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“Abundance” is my word for 2026. I want my life to be abundant. In every way. And in Christ, it already is. Oh, the irony of God's ways. In His upside-down kingdom, there is freedom in self-forgetfulness; abundance in forgiveness; joy in dying to self.

Even in the middle of betrayal, disappointment, broken trust, and unmet expectations, God offers real abundance through Jesus. And the more I fix my eyes on who He truly is, loving Him not for what He gives me, but for who He is, the less I need people to. He causes me to look more outward than inward in my relationships.

God is abundant. So when friends fail you, family hurts you, caretakers mistreat you, relationships break, or when you are the one who messes up… you still have Christ as your firm foundation and faithful friend.

And in Him, peace can grow. In Him, forgiveness becomes possible. In Him, gratitude and healing can exist even while the hurt is still real and impossible to forget.

To wrap up, pause with me for just a brief moment and picture this:

A beautiful little china teapot with blue flowers (because why not), overflowing with the sweetest honey tea. It's spilling over the edges. It's running down the sides, creating a pool at its base. That honey tea is the love of Christ for you. And it is spilling over...for you.

So, when your heart wants to tighten back up around the boobie-trap of bitterness, when the pain tempts you to pick it back up and caress it close, instead, lift your eyes to His love and let what He’s poured into you supernaturally spill over toward the one who hurt you. Not because they deserve it. But because the abundant heart of God for you is freedom. Let Him tenderly carry your pain, and watch Him even (maybe) grow compassion in your heart towards your offender.

Grace, and more grace...for all of us.

I hope this encourages you in some small way, just some honest thoughts from my heart on a cold winter day here in North Carolina. Here’s to another mug of hot cocoa, warm fuzzy socks, and hearts learning, slowly and imperfectly, to love as we have been loved.

Dreaming of the beach and warm sunsets

*Romans 12:17-21 has been an incredibly helpful passage for me to sit in with certain hurts. If I can pray for you, please reach out to me. It would be my joy. Grace, and more grace. XOXO Catherine