We were kids who thought nothing could come between us — best friends who shared everything, from inside jokes to the unshakable belief that we’d be close forever.

But as we got older, life brought new responsibilities, and things began to change. My friend always seemed to have something else going on. Plans we made were often canceled at the last minute, with excuses that left me wondering if they even cared. I told myself it was just life getting in the way. Deep down though, it hurt.

I felt like I was holding tightly to the friendship while they barely tried.

However, I wasn’t blameless. My own responses — shifting between problem avoidance and subtle passive aggression — only made things worse. I avoided addressing how I felt directly, letting silent resentment fester instead. I’d catch myself stewing after another canceled plan, thinking, “Why should I even bother trying anymore?” but never saying it aloud. Looking back, my actions, or lack thereof, fueled the problem as much as theirs.

Over time, the gap between us grew.

Occasionally, we’d address the elephant in the room. Promises to try harder would be made, only for things to slip back into the same patterns. What had once been a close friendship faded into something distant and polite.

Eventually, my friend moved far away. When they asked for help moving, I declined. At the time, it felt like a small act of justice for all the moments I’d felt let down. For a brief moment, it seemed satisfying to draw that line in the sand. But as the days passed that self-righteous satisfaction faded, leaving behind a hollow ache.

Years later, as God worked in my heart, I realized the weight I carried wasn’t just about my friend.

I had been living as if I was owed something, looking to collect debts from anyone who “took” from me. Only when I learned who I was in Christ could I forgive others and love as Christ loves me: freely, fully, and without condition.

This realization wasn’t just about me and my friend — it revealed something deeper about the nature of forgiveness itself.

As we touched on in part one of this three part mini-arc, and unpacked fully in part two last issue (I highly recommend checking them out if you missed them!) forgiveness doesn’t start with trying harder; it starts with believing in who we are.

As children of God, we’re not only forgiven but empowered to forgive others, no matter how deeply we’ve been hurt.

Scripture reminds us:

When we forgive, we reflect God’s character. Just as He forgave us completely and unconditionally, we are called to forgive those who hurt us.

 Jesus modeled this perfectly on the cross, forgiving even those who crucified Him:

But how do we forgive when the hurt feels so heavy?

Understanding your identity in Christ is the foundation, but forgiveness is still a choice — one that can feel impossible without God’s help.

Forgiveness is difficult because it’s dealing with a deficit: a debt created by someone else’s actions. By worldly standards, “forgiving” someone often looks like:

We can see these options play out in commonly used phrases such as “forgive and forget” and “…fool me twice, shame on me”. One’s call is to ignore the debt to maintain peace, the other promotes a state of vigilance to prevent repeat harm in the future.

This all culminates in forgiveness feeling like the weak or foolish choice, something impossible to truly give when faced with significant and repeat offenses.

Now in modern context, we can recapture a bit of how radical Jesus must have sounded when said to forgive “seventy times seven” times (Matthew 18:21–22). However, Jesus understood something none of his audience did: the high price He would be paying for all offenses.

Forgiveness is not about ignoring pain. It’s not a pious prize of humility to be won by the “best person” who ignores the most debt for the longest. That simply breeds pride “at best”, and resentment at worst. No.

Real forgiveness comes from believing God has already paid the debt.

When we lean into that payment of grace, remembering Christ has already given us forgiveness for and healing from sin, we find the strength to forgive others, even when it feels impossible.

We’ve all been there: carrying the weight of someone else’s actions, unsure if we can or should forgive. Here are five steps to help you release that burden and step into the freedom Christ offers:

Years later, I finally understood that the weight I carried wasn’t worth it. Resentment never brought me justice or healing I wanted, only further hurt and loss. Meanwhile, forgiveness and healing had been waiting for me all along.

Forgiving my friend wasn’t about erasing the hurt — it was about trusting that God had already healed me and given me the grace to forgive.

When I finally laid aside my pride and reached out, I discovered something incredible: God had been working in my friend’s life too. We talked, made amends, and rebuilt what I thought was lost forever. God had paid both of our debts a thousand times over.

Who in your life still owes you a “debt”?

Today, bring it to God.

Give God the space to show you how He’s already paid that debt in full.

Until next time,
Addison