When Forgiveness Is Exhausting

Several years ago, a leader in my community called me into her office, positioned herself across from me, and began an interrogation. Someone had led her to misinterpret something I’d said, and she conjured up a crazy story casting me as the villain. This leader then used concocted evidence to condemn me and was convinced I should be heavily penalized. To say I was blindsided and stunned by her false accusations would be an understatement. I greatly admired and respected this woman, had often spoken highly of her, and had even tried to emulate her. Therefore, I was brokenhearted— paralyzed—by the perceived joy she took in tormenting me from her position of power.

As she spewed threats, I cried excessively. Drained, deeply wounded, and bewildered, I dragged myself home to my one-bedroom apartment. Alone and sulking, I began sobbing out a prayer—a prayer for REVENGE! I cried out for my gracious, kind, and merciful God to avenge me. I actually prayed, “God, how are You going to get back at her for what she did to me?” Can you believe that? You see, my struggle to forgive those who intentionally harm me is real! But there in my bedroom, in the midst of my excruciating, suffocating pain, where murderous thoughts tasted like sweet justice amid bitter tears, where the hurt accessed the massive, ugly monster parts of my humanity, God’s presence gently interrupted.

Sweetly, calmly, and omnipotently, God spoke: “You can forgive her.”

I wish I could tell you that I instantly expressed gratitude to God and my desire for retaliation was resolved. Nope! Instead, I was offended that God would speak of forgiveness while I was in so much pain. By my account, the woman who had wronged me needed to suffer. I wanted her to be fired, not forgiven.

Though injured and now insulted, I somehow managed to piece together a few life-giving words and fashion a prayer for my offender that more closely reflected the character of God. I asked God to bless her and to deliver her from the painful circumstances that had prompted her to falsely accuse and hurt me. But forgiving her would be an entirely different endeavor that seemed impossible at the time.

The wound seemed too massive to ever heal. The pain felt embedded in my psyche. Anger was infused into every part of my soul. I could not will myself to forgive her. I did not want to forgive her. Although I knew forgiveness was in my best interests, my pain made me reason that she did not deserve my forgiveness. I wanted to be free of the overwhelming resentment I felt toward her. But again, was it even possible to recover from this kind of relational destruction, to break free from the bondage of bitterness that entangled my soul? It sure didn’t feel like it.

Come Sit with Me and Learn Together

My road to liberation would be lengthy, arduous, and tumultuous.

I tried all the things that have been prescribed to foster forgiveness. I prayed blessings for her. I read all the Scripture passages about how we’ve been forgiven so we should now forgive. I listened to great messages that outlined formulas for forgiveness. I journaled to get my pain on paper and out of my head. I considered her pain and tried to empathize with her so as not to take her attack personally, because “hurt people hurt people.” I did it all, yet relief did not come.

The path to forgiveness was exhausting. I felt like I was wrestling a mammoth, prehistoric, octopus-like creature. I was overwhelmed by the enormity of its grabby tentacles that squeezed and sucked the life out of me. It was a losing battle. The more effort I put toward forgiving, the more I felt the sting of unforgiveness. And failure to conquer the unforgiveness monster only compounded my unforgiveness with shame. Perhaps you have heard this familiar adage by Marianne Williamson: “Unforgiveness is like drinking poison yourself and waiting for the other person to die.” Well, drinking the poison seemed easier than exerting the strength to forgive. And because the offense was so painful, the poison of unforgiveness did not even taste toxic.

But inside my poisoned heart, I was terrified that unforgiveness would be the death of me, that somehow I’d be discounted in God’s eyes. It didn’t seem fair or logical that I had been burdened with the responsibility of forgiveness. But what felt like a burden was actually an invitation to know God’s love in the form of patience, compassion, commitment, and consistency.

Cultivating patience, compassion, commitment, and consistency is not prioritized or primarily sought after in our culture of instant gratification. We don’t want to be patient. We don’t want to persevere in navigating interactions with those who wound us. I’m sure you know what I mean. When your soul has been deeply injured, you want immediate relief from the pain. You don’t want to have to figure out what to say the next time you are in the room with that longtime, trusted friend who betrayed you. You don’t want to have to continue working under the revered leader who spiritually abused you. You just want to detach from the source of your pain. The desire to flee is understandable because it is a natural psychological response of protection. Trust me, I’ve been there. But disengaging from the pain is not the only thing necessary for our healing.

When avoidance isn’t possible and relief from your pain isn’t immediate, remember that you have been graced with time.

Over time—and I mean many, many years—the unforgiveness monster loosened its chokehold on me. Little by little its tentacles released their grip, or maybe I grew stronger in my ability to resist. Perhaps both. Either way, the change was so subtle, so gradual, I almost didn’t feel it until I realized I was actually free.

I realized that I needed time more than I needed to implement a forgiveness formula. God met me in my stifled unforgiveness and gifted me with unhurried space to process. God stayed with me, and together we cultivated seeds of forgiveness that needed time to take root and blossom.

Forgiveness did not come through an apology. Forgiveness was not ushered in by a reconciled relationship. I’m sure that my offender still thinks her attack on me was justified. But in that place where the hurt stuck to me and I staved off forgiveness, God met me, stayed with me, and sustained me.

Romans 5:3–4 says, “We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation” (NLT). We live in an imperfect world where it’s inevitable that we will get hurt. Like you, I certainly do not welcome the pain. But I know that even though I am going to encounter people who, whether intentionally or unintentionally, will hurt me, I can trust God with my heart. Our patient, compassionate, committed, consistent God will hold my assaulted and bruised heart in His hands and nurture me until I feel whole again.

You can trust Him with your heart too.

Questions to Sit With

Ask Yourself
1. What wounds from my past am I allowing to still fester in my heart?
2. Who do I need to forgive today?
3. How has God met me on my long road of pain and brokenness?

Ask God
1. How do You see the person who wronged me?
2. What do You want to teach me or show me through my journey to forgive?
3. Show me my unattended wounds that need time with You.