I’ll shoot it to you straight: if you read the first blog on forgiveness, you already know about my ten-year-long battle with holding a grudge, which honestly isn’t even like me. I’ve got a three-second rebound rate. Hurt my feelings at breakfast, and I’ll invite you to lunch.

But this one stuck.

And I will be honest: the apology never came. There was no recognition of wrongdoing. No repentance. No tying up the story with a redemptive little bow. And yet, God asked me to forgive anyway.

I thought it would feel like weakness. Like giving away something I had every right to hold. But here’s the truth: when I forgave without an apology, I didn’t lose power; I reclaimed peace. Forgiveness didn’t erase the hurt. But it loosened its grip, and in that gentle release, something sacred shifted. What I thought would be surrender became strength. What I feared would be weakness became a doorway to healing. And somewhere in that holy unraveling, I realized: I was never holding justice. Justice was holding me.

I didn’t forget what happened. But I finally stopped dragging it into every conversation, every prayer, every room. I didn’t get the resolution I thought I needed. But I found something better, true rest. Not because the pain was undone, but because it was no longer mine to carry.

What Is Forgiveness?

Forgiveness is a spiritual act of fierce trust. It is placing your wound in God’s hands and saying, “I believe You see this. I believe You care. And I believe You are more just than I am angry. So I’m giving this to You.”

Forgiveness is a spiritual act of fierce trust. It is placing your wound in God’s hands and saying, “I believe You see this. I believe You care. And I believe You are more just than I am angry. So I’m giving this to You.”

It is not the denial of pain. It is the refusal to be ruled by it. It is handing the gavel back to the rightful Judge, not because justice is irrelevant, but because only He is strong enough to wield it without wounding further. You are not letting go of justice. You are entrusting the crushing weight of retaliation into nail-pierced hands, the only hands in history that have held wrath and mercy at once.

That isn’t weakness. It is warfare.

Because here’s the truth: Forgiveness isn’t about setting them free. It’s about setting you free. It is refusing to drag their sin into every room you enter, every relationship, every decision. It’s refusing to let what they did define who you are. And more than anything, forgiveness is the echo of Christ in your life. It is the rebellion against bitterness. The quiet resistance to darkness. The refusal to let evil pen the final paragraph.

C.S. Lewis said it best: “To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.”

That is the scandal of grace. We don’t forgive because they’ve earned it. We forgive because He forgave us when we could not possibly deserve it. And He will defend you. Romans 12:19 declares, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” That is not a sentimental line. It is your shield. Your safety. When your soul burns for justice, this is the promise that reminds you: you are not unguarded.

And in the meantime? Ephesians 4:32 calls to us: "Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you."

You are not asked to forget. You are not asked to pretend. You are simply invited to lay the keys of judgment down at the feet of the King. Because His justice is not only fair. It is final.

So, How Do I Actually Forgive Someone?

If you’re waiting for forgiveness to feel natural, it won’t. Forgiveness isn’t instinct. It’s not a personality trait. It’s not even willpower. Forgiveness is the fruit of the Holy Spirit moving through a surrendered heart (Ezekiel 36:26).

Yes, there are steps you can take. You can pray. You can speak it aloud. You can write the name down and lay it at the altar. But true forgiveness doesn’t begin in your resolve. It begins in your release. You cannot manufacture what only the Spirit can empower. But you can ask Him to start the process. You can position your heart. You can bring your ache to the One who is in the business of bringing life to fruition and say:

“God, I don’t want to forgive. I don’t know how. But I “want” to want to forgive. I’m willing for You to do it in me. Make me willing, Lord.”

Forgiveness is not a self-improvement goal. It is a holy work. And the Spirit is faithful to complete what you invite Him to begin.

Walk Me Through The Healing Process

Is there a five-step plan to make it clean, easy, and done by Thursday? Yes, and also, no. Healing doesn’t wear a uniform. It doesn’t march in neat little rows or follow a flowchart. It’s holy and hard and sometimes heartbreakingly slow.

But if you’re looking for handholds on the climb, here are five truths that can help you walk it out:

1. Grieve What Happened

You cannot forgive what you won’t name. The first step isn’t pushing past the pain; it’s standing still long enough to look it in the eye. Call it what it was. Acknowledge the loss. Sit with the sting. Don’t rush this part. Healing begins in the light, not in hiding. Lewis said, “The pain now is part of the happiness then. That’s the deal.” The same is true for healing.

2. Invite God Into the Wound

Not just to cover it, but to cleanse it. He doesn’t come with pity; He comes with power. The same hands that bore your sin want to hold your sorrow. He is not afraid of the mess. And He doesn’t just want to heal you, He delights to. Not because you’re pitiful, but because you are His. Let Him into the rooms you’ve locked tight. He’s already there anyway. Open the door.

3. Let Forgiveness Be a Journey

Some days it’s hallelujahs. Some days it’s gritted teeth and tear-streaked prayers: “I forgive, Lord… but help my heart catch up.” That’s okay. Don’t force healing. Don’t shame your process. Just stay in step with it. It’s not a performance, it’s a pilgrimage. One honest step at a time.

4. Redirect the Replay

When the hurt creeps back in (and it will), Paul gives us the remedy:

“Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure… think about these things.” (Phil. 4:8-9)

Train your mind to bounce. Shift the channel. Not to deny the pain, but to guard your peace. You’re not pretending the offense didn’t happen; you’re refusing to let it play on loop in your spirit.

5. Release the Narrative

Stop rehearsing it. To them. To yourself. To anyone who will listen. That doesn’t mean silence your story, it means stop feeding the version of it that keeps you chained. Make peace with what happened. Make peace with what they may never understand. And then hand the final word back to God. Because He remembers. He saw it. And He will not forget you.

You Don't Need Closure to Heal

But here’s the thing: closure is not promised in Scripture. And more importantly? You don’t need closure from them to walk in healing.

The modern idea that closure is a requirement for healing came not from Scripture, but from mid-20th-century psychology, especially studies surrounding grief and trauma. By the time it made its way into self-help books and box office tearjerkers, closure became synonymous with healing: a final conversation, a letter, a cinematic monologue that tied everything up with a bow.

But here’s the truth: Closure is not promised in Scripture. And more importantly, you don’t need it to heal.

Don’t confuse what feels satisfying with what is sacred. Their apology? Their understanding? That imaginary moment where they finally "get it"? They may feel necessary. But they’re not. Healing doesn’t depend on them. It depends on God. And He is already at work.

Forgiveness may never feel fair. It may not feel finished. And it almost certainly won’t feel easy. But it is holy, because it refuses to let pain name you. Not because it forgets what happened, but because it remembers who God is: Still just. Still good. Still writing your story, even the jagged chapters.

So if you’re still in the messy middle, aching, questioning, whispering, "Is this what Jesus meant?" I see you. You’re not failing. You’re healing. And the One who was betrayed knows exactly how it feels. He’s not rushing you. He’s not scolding you. He’s just holding out His hand. You don’t need to have it all together. You just need to take the next step. And the best part? You don’t take it alone.

Still walking this out? You’re not alone. Share your story, or pass this along to a sister who needs the reminder: she’s not alone. We heal better together( Isaiah 43:18–19).

TL/DR

Forgiveness isn't letting them off the hook—it’s getting off their hook. It’s not approval, amnesia, or forced reconciliation. It’s a holy act of trust, placing justice in God’s hands and choosing to walk free, even if they never say sorry. You don’t need their apology to heal—you need Christ’s presence to carry you through. It may feel like self-betrayal at first, but it’s actually sacred protection: God guarding your heart with His peace.

Define Your Terms

(some might call this a glossary)

TL/DR—Too Long/Didn’t Read
Forgiveness – A spiritual release of resentment, entrusting justice to God rather than holding on to the right to retaliate. Not forgetting, excusing, or reconciling necessarily.
Closure – A psychological concept popularized in mid-20th century therapy, referring to emotional resolution or finality—something the Bible doesn’t guarantee as part of healing.
Bitterness – A long-held resentment that poisons the heart, often masked as “protection,” but ultimately hinders healing and spiritual growth.
Repentance – A turning away from sin with genuine sorrow, not just saying sorry but aligning one’s life back toward God.