Lettin’ Go

Well, howdy there, friend, you just stepped right on up here like a cool breeze on a hot, summer Texas afternoon. Come on through the gate and settle yourself on this creaky ol’ front porch swing that leans to the left like it’s got opinions it’s been savin’ for years. Let’s talk for a lil’ ol’ spell about forgiveness, that big ol’ steep, high mountain we all swear we just can’t climb. Second Corinthians 5:14 says, “For Christ’s love compels us,” and, friend, that verse hits harder than an ol’ hungry rooster that thinks your shoelaces are wiggly worms. When someone wounds you real deep, it can feel like your heart plum got dropped into a bucket of cold, gooey molasses. You’re not one bit weak for feelin’ that way either. You’re just plain ol’ human. And Christ meets humans right in the very place where we start to leakin’ and limpin’.

Some hurts come from folks that should’ve guarded us like a mama goose takes care of her baby goslings. Some hurts sneak up on us like an ol’ raccoon that’s earned a doctorate in trash can engineering. And some wounds run so deep that “moving on” sounds like a foreign language spoken only by woodland creatures with better emotional balance than we’ll ever claim. But Scripture never tells you to pretend it didn’t hurt real bad. Christ never shrugs at or ignores your pain. The gospel don’t ever minimize wounds. It plum transforms what you can do with them. Ephesians 4:32 reminds us to “forgive just as Christ forgave us,” which is a mighty tall order but a sho’-nuff’ freeing one, too.

When the pain becomes a prison, your mind replays the offense over and over like a lil’ ol’ squirrel that found the repeat button. You don’t choose it. It just plum happens. But that’s where 2 Corinthians 5:14 steps right on in like a holy cattle prod. Christ’s love doesn’t just motivate you. It plum compels you to forgive. It becomes the new reflex reaction of your heart even when everything in you wants to hide, defend, rehearse, or deliver the perfect courtroom speech where you finally win your revenge.

So, what do you do when forgiveness feels like tryin’ to lasso some real thick morning fog? You gotta pause and whisper, “Jesus, lead me.” You gotta remember the cross, not just for you but for the person that hurt you, too. You gotta respond with humility because you don’t have to be the judge or the hero. Christ has already claimed that job.

A gospel lens plum changes everything. It asks, “Who is this person in the eyes of Jesus?” Someone Christ also died for. Someone God also pursues. Someone that can also be made new. That sho’-nuff’ don’t excuse what happened. It don’t rebuild trust overnight either. But it definitely opens the soil where forgiveness can start to growin’.

Forgiveness isn’t trust. It isn’t saying, “Ok, it’s fine.” It ain’t pretending the relationship is restored. Forgiveness releases and plum lets go of the right to retaliate, and it plum frees you from havin’ to be carryin’ what Christ already paid for.

And, friend, when reconciliation is possible, Scripture gives us a real good path to be able to get there. Confess your part. Offer forgiveness when repentance appears. Set real wise boundaries. Rebuild trust slowly. And when reconciliation just ain’t possible, keep your heart plum aligned with Christ rather than with ugly bitterness.

Father, You see every wound I carry. Help me release the debt I’m tempted to hold. Let Your love compel me when my emotions lag behind. Heal my heart, guide my steps, and make forgiveness grow where hurt once lived. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Friend, as we step off this here porch today, let’s both hold this truth real close to our hearts that forgiveness don’t mean you forget the wound. It plum means you remember who Christ is. It plum means your story don’t end in bitterness. It plum means the past don’t get the final word. And just like a stubborn ol’ mule eventually figures out which trail leads to home, your heart will learn the freedom of walking with Christ toward His divine peace that settles deeper than any ol’ fierce storm in life can ever git to stirrin’ up.

With joy,

Gwen