Forgiveness Is Not the Finish Line

For those who still believe in community, even when it’s hard.

By: Rebecca Witherspoon, June 30, 2025 

After everything that’s happened, everything that’s been said, assumed, exaggerated, and weaponized, I’ve made a choice. I’m going to walk in forgiveness. But, while forgiveness is important, it’s just the beginning. It’s not the finish line. It’s the first necessary step in a different direction.

Forgiveness, at its core, is the unilateral choice made by one person. It requires one willing heart—in this case, mine. My hope is that your heart will be willing as well. It’s not about mutual agreement or shared perspective. It doesn’t require an apology by a perceived perpetrator. It doesn’t demand accountability or even acknowledgment from the person perceived to have done the harm. Forgiveness is simply the act of letting go of bitterness so that it doesn’t take root and make a home inside of us.

But don’t confuse forgiveness with reconciliation.

Reconciliation is a whole different thing. It requires more than one person. It’s a mutual decision—built on truth, humility, and movement toward one another. And even then, it’s only possible if both parties are willing to take responsibility for their own actions, to listen without defensiveness, and to repair what has been broken. Without that shared willingness, reconciliation remains out of reach.

And then there’s trust—the most fragile and often the most misunderstood of the three. Trust is not restored simply because someone has chosen to forgive. Trust takes time. It’s not owed. It’s earned, brick by brick, through consistency, accountability, and truth. And when it’s been broken, especially deliberately, it can’t be rebuilt with shortcuts or spin. 

So, yes, I forgive. Not because I’ve forgotten what’s been done or because it no longer matters, but because I refuse to carry the burden of the anger, pain, and bitterness anymore. I refuse to let the actions of others calcify in me as resentment. I forgive because I want to live with an open heart and a clear conscience. But I also will maintain boundaries to protect myself from further harm.

Forgiveness does not require silence.
It does not mean enabling harm.
And it does not make me naive.

I know that for some, any gesture of grace will be read as weakness. Some will continue to act in ways that harm, distort, or divide—no matter what olive branches are extended. But I’m not extending these words for them. I’m writing for the people who want to find a way forward. The ones who are tired of walking in suspicion. The ones who are willing to stop assigning motives and start listening again.

This community is worth that effort. But we can’t get there on forgiveness alone. It takes mutual courage. It takes accountability. While I can heal on my own, in order for a community to heal it takes more than one voice willing to say, “I see what’s been broken—and I want to help rebuild.”

So, no—I’m not pretending we’re all okay.

But I am choosing to live like healing is still possible.

If you are too, then maybe—just maybe—we can take the next step together.