The Double-Edged Word

Do you ever find yourself defining life by before and after the deep hurt?

The horrific season.The shocking day of discovery. The divorce. The wrongful death so unfathomable you still can’t believe they are gone. The day your friend walked away. The hateful conversation. The remark that seems to now be branded on your soul. The day everything changed.

Is it even possible to move on from something like this? Is it even possible to create a life that’s beautiful again?

I deeply understand this kind of defining devastation in such a personal way.

If you know my story, you know of the shattering discovery of my husband Art’s affair and the long road of uncertainty I was still walking. The four years of hellish heartbreak that followed the discovery did eventually take an unexpected turn toward reconciliation. I’m grateful, but I have not been spared the slow and grueling work of finding one’s way again after experiencing something that forever marks your life.

When your heart has been shattered and reshaped into something that doesn’t quite feel normal inside your own chest yet, the word forgiveness feels a bit unrealistic to bring into the conversation.

But friend, can I whisper something today I’m learning?

Forgiveness is possible, but it won’t always feel possible.

It’s a double-edged word, isn’t it?

It’s hard to give. It’s amazing to get. But when we receive it so freely from the Lord and refuse to give it, something heavy starts to form in our souls.

Forgiveness isn’t something hard we have the option to do or not do. Forgiveness is something hard-won that we have the opportunity to participate in.

Our part in forgiveness isn’t one of desperation where we have to muscle through with gritted teeth, and horrified by all they did. This is what I once thought forgiveness was, and after already being the one who was hurt, I couldn’t imagine having yet another process to work through.

When I wrongly think forgiveness rises and falls on all my efforts, conjured maturity, and gentle feelings that feel real one moment and fake the next, I’ll never be able to authentically give the kind of forgiveness Jesus has given me.

My ability to forgive relies on leaning into what Jesus has already done, which allows His grace for me to flow freely through me (Eph. 4:7).

Forgiveness isn’t an act of my determination or made possible by my cooperation.

Cooperation is what I’ve been missing. Cooperation with what Jesus has already done makes verses like Eph. 4:32 possible.“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”

God knew we couldn’t do it on our own. So, He made a way not dependent on our strength. A way to grab on to Jesus’ outstretched arms. He forgives what we could never be good enough to make right. And makes a way for us to simply cooperate with His work of forgiveness…for us to receive and for us to give.

That person or people—they’ve caused enough damage. And you don’t have to be held hostage by the pain. You get to decide how you’ll move forward. If you resonate with the feelings of resistance I have felt too, let me assure you: forgiveness is possible and good.

Consider the possibility around this double-edged word, forgiveness. Not because your pain doesn’t matter or what they did was right. Not because it fixes everything. But because your heart is much too beautiful a place for unhealed pain. And your soul is much too deserving of freedom to stay stuck here.

Learn more about forgiveness in Lysa TerKeursts' latest book, Forgiving What You Can't Forget: Discover How to Move On, Make Peace with Painful Memories, and Create a Life That's Beautiful Again.