Recently, I was a guest on a call-in radio show discussing anger. One caller asked a question hard to forget: “How do I move past my anger toward the person who murdered my son?”

What an incredibly difficult question. There are some wounds so deep that easy answers can sound almost insulting. The murder of a child is one of them.

I first acknowledged this mother’s profound grief. No parent should have to experience the violent death of a child. Her anger made sense. But eventually our conversation moved to forgiveness, not because what happened was forgivable in the sense of being excusable, but because forgiveness offered a path toward freedom from the anger that continued to bind her.

I understood something about her struggle because forgiveness was not my natural response when my own brother was murdered by terrorists. I was angry at those responsible, but I was also angry with God. Why had He allowed this to happen? Why hadn’t He prevented it?

For a time, I wrestled with that anger. Eventually, I began to understand that holding tightly to my anger toward both the terrorists and God was adding another layer of suffering to an already devastating loss. I could not change what had happened, but I could decide whether that horrific event would continue to have power over my inner life.

Forgiveness Was a Decision Before It Was a Feeling

For me, forgiveness began as an act of the will long before my emotions caught up.

I had to surrender my desire for personal vengeance and entrust ultimate justice to God. That did not happen quickly or easily. And it certainly did not mean that what happened to my brother was somehow OK.

Forgiveness does not call evil good. It does not pretend the offense never happened, erase appropriate consequences, or mean that justice no longer matters.

Instead, forgiveness meant releasing my personal vengeance. It meant refusing to allow hatred to organize my life. It meant entrusting judgment to God and refusing to give the people who committed this terrible act continuing control over my emotional and spiritual life. Forgiveness refuses to let evil have the final say in your heart.

God Can Handle Our Anger

Christianity does not require emotional denial. I could be angry with God and cry out to Him without losing my faith. Scripture is filled with people who brought God their anguish, confusion, lament, and even questions about His allowance of suffering.

But our faith also calls us toward transformation. At some point, I had to decide whether I would continue holding tightly to anger or surrender it to God. This required trusting God with what I could not understand.

As I made the choice to forgive, something slowly changed. My emotions began to follow my decision. I could release more of the anger and trust that ultimately that God would one day make all things right.

Christ Knows Our Sorrow

Isaiah 53 became especially meaningful in understanding this process because it reminds us that Christ is not distant from human suffering. He is described as “a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3). Isaiah goes on to tell us that He bore our griefs and carried our sorrows. Think about what Christ experienced: rejection, betrayal, abandonment, injustice, physical suffering, pain, and ultimately death.

So when I cried out to God from a place of overwhelming emotional pain, I was not crying out to a Savior unfamiliar with suffering. Christ knows sorrow from the inside. And He also understands the cost of forgiveness.

Jesus was innocent, yet He was unjustly condemned and put to death on a cross. And amid that suffering, He prayed, “Father, forgive them” (Luke 23:34).

This is what makes Christian forgiveness so different from simply telling someone to “get over” an offense. The Christ who calls us to forgive is the same Christ who entered into suffering Himself.

Forgiveness Does Not Eliminate Justice

Forgiveness means relinquishing personal vengeance to God. Justice still matters. Evil should still be named as evil, and those who commit crimes should be held accountable through appropriate legal means. Forgiveness and justice are not opposites.

Both the caller and I had to come to a place where we could say:

What happened was evil. Justice matters. We were deeply wounded. But hatred and revenge will not have the final say in our lives.

That is an important distinction. Forgiveness does not release the offender from responsibility. It releases us from making vengeance our responsibility.

When Forgiveness Feels Impossible

When someone you love has been murdered or a victim of evil, the call to forgive can sound almost unbearable. And forgiveness may take time. The wound can remain painful long after the decision to forgive has been made. Forgiveness does not erase grief, and grief does not mean that you have failed to forgive.

But we were never meant to carry the combined weight of grief, hatred, and vengeance forever. Eventually, we have to decide where to put that weight.

For the Christian, we place it in the hands of the One who understands suffering, who carried our sorrows, who forgave from the cross, and who promises that evil will not have the final word.

Forgiveness does not change what happened. It changes what the wound is allowed to do inside of us. That is why forgiveness is not a declaration that the offender deserves mercy. It is an act of obedience and surrender through Christ, the One who can gradually free our hearts from bitterness and allow healing to begin.