Let Go and Live Free

A sister in your local assembly has spoken words that cut deep. Perhaps she questioned your character in front of others, or spread a rumour that wounded your reputation. Days have passed, and though she has apologised, you find yourself replaying the hurt each time you see her name or face. The weight sits in your chest—a stone you carry to church, to work, even to your bed at night. This is the burden of unforgiveness, and it was never meant to be yours to carry.

Paul writes to the Colossians with a remedy as old as the cross itself: “Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another.” Notice the order. First comes forbearance—the choice to bear with one another, to show patience even when wounded. Then comes forgiveness—the deliberate release of the debt another person owes you. Christ did not merely tolerate our sin; He paid its price and declared us free. “Even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye.”

Forgiveness is not soft-heartedness or denial of real harm. When we forgive, we acknowledge that wrong was done. We do not pretend the hurt did not happen. Rather, we refuse to let that hurt become a permanent tenant in our hearts. In Matthew 18:21-22, Peter asked how many times he must forgive—seven times? Jesus answered: “seventy times seven.” He was teaching not arithmetic, but freedom. Unforgiveness multiplies. Each time we rehearse the injury, we commit it anew against ourselves.

The Nigerian believer faces particular pressure to hold grudges. In our culture, honour and reputation run deep. To forgive can feel like weakness, like accepting injustice. But Scripture tells us otherwise. When we forgive, we do not say the other person was right; we say God is sovereign, and His justice is perfect. We say, “I will not be the judge. I will not carry this weight. I will release what I cannot fix, to the God who fixes all things.”

Consider Ephesians 4:26-27: “Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath: neither give place to the devil.” Holding onto anger gives the enemy a foothold in your life. Every night you go to bed nursing resentment, you surrender ground to darkness. Forgiveness reclaims that territory for Christ.

Today, examine your heart. Is there someone whose name still causes you pain? Someone you have not truly released? The weight you carry does not punish them—it imprisons you. Christ paid the price for all sin, including theirs. When you forgive, you step out of the cell and into light.

Lord, grant me the grace to forgive as Christ forgave me, and to lay down the burdens I was never meant to bear.