At the beginning of my missionary journey, I found myself in a close working relationship with a leader in the community—someone in a position of authority. From the outset, I struggled with disappointment. In my eyes, she wasn’t fulfilling her role as I expected. I was judgmental, critical, and deeply hurt. My expectations clashed with reality, and the emotional toll was heavy.
The stress wasn’t just about work—it was layered with the challenges of adapting to a new country, navigating cultural differences, and wrestling with the ethics of missionary life. I felt lost, without a clear plan or purpose, and that lack of structure was painful for someone like me who thrives on order and clarity.
My frustration grew into resentment. I didn’t like how I felt, and I didn’t like how I treated her. For two years, I carried the weight of disappointment, believing those years had been wasted. Yet, even in the midst of this emotional storm, I kept surrendering to the Lord, asking again and again: “Please help me to forgive. Please help me to let go. This is so painful.”
There were moments of peace, but they were fleeting. I confided only in Dan, my dear husband, my closest confidant, who reminded me gently, “For your own health’s sake, you have to let it go.” I wanted to—but deep down, I wrestled with the feeling that it was unfair. I knew it sounded childish, but that was my truth. Still, I sincerely wanted to forgive, to stop judging, to move on.
Scripture became my guidepost. Verses like “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us” and “Judge not, and you will not be judged” echoed in my heart. I realized the same yardstick I used to measure her would be used to measure me. Slowly, painfully, I began to chew on those words, letting them sink in.
Then one day, during a quiet moment of prayer—not even about this situation—the Lord brought it all back. But this time, He showed me her perspective. It was as if a veil had lifted. I saw her doing her best, just as I had been doing mine. And I understood: our best may not match up to other’s expectations of us, but it’s still our best.
That moment changed everything.
Seventeen years had passed. Seventeen years of holding on to pain. Many of us hold on, even though it is painful. I’ve heard stories of people holding onto resentment for decades—toward a spouse, a neighbour, a family member. And the pain is real.
I don’t have a formula for forgiveness. But I believe the starting point is willingness to change, to let go. When we desire to forgive, the Lord steps in. He knows we’re weak. He knows we backtrack. He knows we struggle. But He doesn’t ask us to do it alone.
Let us look to Jesus at the hour of His death. He didn’t hate. He didn’t seek revenge. He prayed, “Forgive them, Lord, they do not know what they do.” That became my prayer too—“Forgive her, Lord. Forgive him. They do not know.” And eventually, “Forgive me, Lord. I did not know what I was doing.”
Forgiveness is not just good for our mental health—it’s a command from the Lord.
To forgive, to love, and to let Him deal with the rest.
What about you? Are you on a journey of forgiveness?
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