TRUE FORGIVENESS

Forgiveness

Forgiveness is an intentional decision to let go of resentment and anger. Yet, it is one of the hardest acts to fully embrace. Many people struggle with it—I know I did.

I often heard the phrase, “I will forgive, but I won’t forget.” For a long time, I believed that too. But eventually, I learned that the not forgetting part is a trap. I told myself I had forgiven, but deep inside, I still carried the pain and hurt.

Some acts feel almost unimaginable to forgive. It took me years—years—to forgive the person who molested me. I couldn’t reconcile the idea of him living a happy, healthy, joy-filled life after what he took from me. For a long time, I thought forgiving meant agreeing with what someone did, and that never settled well in my spirit. I wanted him—and others who had hurt me—to suffer like I had suffered.

But I learned firsthand that watching someone else suffer doesn’t bring healing. No matter how much they hurt, it never undoes what has already been done. The only way to truly handle pain and trauma is to dig it up at the root. If you’re willing to face it, sift through the manure of what’s been buried inside, you may find that on the other side is forgiveness—not just for the other person, but for yourself.

Understanding My Grandmother

Years after my grandmother passed, my sister helped me forgive her. She told me stories I had never heard.

My grandmother, Alberta, was the only girl in her family. Her brother was born blind, and their father had desperately wanted a strong son to help him on the farm. Since his son could not, he placed all his demands—his “manly fury”—on his daughter.

As ironic as it sounds, the woman who once told me I was “black and ugly” was herself the shade of tar. Years of working the fields burned her skin deep and dark. She barely weighed 100 pounds but was strong as a mule, managing 24 acres of farmland that she tilled, plowed, and nurtured. I later learned she was also quite wealthy for her time—leasing her land to other farmers and commanding respect in her small southern town. Imagine that: a Black woman in the 1960s owning 24 acres of land.

But beneath her strength was heartbreak. My sister told me Grandmother only loved one man: Mr. Robinson, a Native American from Virginia. When she became pregnant, his tribe expelled him from the reservation, and in his anger, he abandoned her. She lived the rest of her life devoted to two things—her son and her land. She later married “Big Daddy,” but it was clearly a marriage of convenience. I never once saw them exchange affection, and her face never carried joy—only hardness.

Now I understand. Her face bore the weight of trauma and rejection. The pain of never being enough for her father. The pain of being a dark-skinned Black woman in the 1940s and ’50s. The pain of being overlooked, discarded, and unloved. When she looked at me, she saw herself. The bitterness she projected wasn’t really about me—it was her own brokenness.

Maybe her harsh words were her way of trying to prepare me for the world she believed I’d face. Whatever her reasons, knowing her story allowed me to forgive her.

A Living Example of Forgiveness

I asked God to teach me how to forgive. And in His wisdom, He sent me an example: my sister’s mother-in-law, whom I call Ma.

Years ago, Ma’s beloved daughter was brutally murdered. I cannot imagine the pain of losing a child—let alone in such a violent way. Yet, Ma, a true woman of God, walked through the process of forgiveness. She told me it took years of prayer and countless counseling sessions with the Lord to prepare her heart. Eventually, she wrote a letter to the man who murdered her daughter. In it, she extended grace, mercy, and forgiveness.

When I first heard her story, I was in awe. I asked her how she did it. Her gentle reply was, “We all have something we want to be forgiven for, don’t we?”

She was right. Whether small or big, we all have regrets. Words we wish we hadn’t spoken. Choices we wish we hadn’t made. People we wish we had treated differently.

God’s Gift of Forgiveness

Believers know that God is so merciful, so loving, that He gave His only Son to be sacrificed so we wouldn’t have to carry the weight of our sins. He forgives us—again and again. God leads with love. God leads with mercy. God leads with understanding.

Through Him, I’ve come to see forgiveness as a gift. It doesn’t excuse the act. It doesn’t justify the offender. It’s not even really about the other person. Forgiveness is about freedom. It’s about laying down a weight that was never ours to carry. It’s saying, “You don’t own me anymore.”

But forgiveness isn’t one-and-done. It’s a daily practice. I practice forgiving the driver who cuts me off in traffic, the rude cashier, the frustrating coworker, the insensitivity of family. Most importantly, I practice forgiving myself—for my missteps, miscommunication, choices, thoughts, and reactions.

Because at the end of the day, I know this truth: I must give what I want to receive.