Real Forgiveness is not Forced

 When forgiveness is forced before the wound is even acknowledged, what’s really being asked is silence, not healing. It tells the wounded person that peace matters more than truth, and comfort matters more than accountability. Instead of being allowed to say “this hurt me,” they’re pushed to say “it’s fine,” even when it clearly isn’t. That kind of pressure doesn’t heal wounds—it buries them alive.

Forced forgiveness often shows up dressed as righteousness. Scriptures are quoted, tone is spiritual, intentions are framed as godly—but the outcome is the same: the injured person is rushed past their pain so others don’t have to sit with discomfort. There’s no space to grieve, no room to process, no permission to be angry or confused. Just an expectation to move on, smile, and call it faith.

What gets ignored is this: acknowledgment is the foundation of healing. You cannot forgive what hasn’t been named. You cannot release what hasn’t been validated. When someone skips the step of recognition—of listening, believing, and taking responsibility—they turn forgiveness into a tool of control rather than an act of freedom.

This is especially damaging in religious spaces, where people are taught that questioning harm equals bitterness, and expressing pain equals lack of faith. Survivors learn to doubt themselves. They begin to wonder if they’re the problem for still hurting. But pain that’s ignored doesn’t disappear—it shows up later as anxiety, numbness, exhaustion, or loss of trust in both people and God.

Real forgiveness, if it ever comes, is not forced—it’s chosen. It grows in environments where truth is honored, wounds are acknowledged, and accountability is real. And even then, forgiveness is not a requirement for healing. You are allowed to tend to your wound first. God is not offended by your honesty—and your pain does not disqualify you from grace.