Forgiveness Through Tears

When I heard Erika Kirk’s statement of forgiveness, spoken in the shadow of her husband’s assassination, I was struck silent except for tears. Her words carried a weight I cannot imagine bearing—the weight of losing the one dearest to her, and yet choosing not to let bitterness be her companion. She drew strength from the very words of Jesus on the cross: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

I have to admit, hearing her speak pierced me. The depth of her sorrow was undeniable, and yet from that sorrow came a choice I find so difficult to make in far lesser circumstances. She has been wounded in a way most of us will never know, and still she pointed to forgiveness—not because it erases her grief, but because it lifts her eyes from revenge to the God who heals.

I think about my own hurts, my own disappointments. They pale in comparison to hers, and yet I still wrestle with forgiveness. I hear people say, “forgive and forget,” but I cannot agree. To forget would be to deny both the pain and the lesson. Instead, I believe forgiveness calls us to something deeper:

• Forgive — because Christ has forgiven us (Ephesians 4:32). This frees us from bitterness.
• Remember — not to rehearse the hurt, but to acknowledge the reality of what was done. Like Joseph who remembered his brothers’ betrayal but saw God’s hand bringing good out of evil (Genesis 50:20).
• Learn — because memory becomes wisdom. It shapes us into people who are gentler, wiser, and perhaps better able to help someone else through their pain.

Forgiveness does not erase the tears. It does not undo the sorrow. But it allows us to carry those memories differently—not as stones of bitterness, but as stepping-stones toward grace.

Erika’s words remind me that forgiveness is not easy, not cheap, and not quick. It comes through tears. It comes through pain. But it is a choice to let God hold the judgment, while we choose to walk in His mercy.

Prayer

Lord, You know the depths of human sorrow far better than we ever could. You saw the anguish of the cross, and yet You prayed, “Father, forgive them.” Today I bring before You my own heart—the places where hurt still lingers, and forgiveness feels hard.

Teach me to forgive, as You have forgiven me. Not to excuse the wrong, but to release it into Your hands.
Help me to remember, not so that bitterness will take root, but so that I will walk wisely and with compassion.
Grant me the courage to learn from these wounds, so that they may become testimonies of Your grace rather than scars of resentment.

And Lord, for those like Erika who grieve in unimaginable ways, surround them with Your comfort. Let their forgiveness shine as a witness of Your power that overcomes even the deepest sorrow.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.