The Bible does not depict God the Father, telling Christ the Son, that forgiveness is for His benefit and not ours. In Luke 23:34, Christ is crucified and yet prays, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do."

Positioning oneself to believe that forgiveness is not a benefit to all is a slippery slope of theology in my view. Can I afford to believe that the man who abused me is in greater need of forgiveness than I? That one of us is meant to benefit more from the forgiveness of sins than the other? What Christ accomplished on the cross was--and remains for all of mankind. We all fall short of His glory. We all need forgiveness, whether we've sinned or fallen victim to the careless sin of another. When I'm honest with myself, I can concede that in this world--I reside on both sides of the fence of "sinning and being sinned against."

The only true "other side of the fence" is perfection--where the shed blood of Christ makes all things new. Grace has the power to redeem those who trespass against me, and me--when I trespass against another.

Stay with me if you're heart is broken and you feel as if I'm minimizing what's happened to you. What happened to you matters a great deal. And this is how I know:

For years, I couldn't forgive. It hurt to try. It hurt to think about it. I'd sat under the tutelage of many ministers in their attempts to enlighten me with what the Bible says about forgiveness. The Christian commandment to forgive pressed me like a loaded gun to my head. I was confused about the nature of God and I longed to be validated for all that I'd suffered. I knew I wasn't perfect, but I reasoned that I'd never sunk to the depth of sin my abuser had. Subsequently, I was immobilized by an "us and them" mentality.

In utter desperation, I quit trying to forgive. I gave up. Instead, I determined to spend time simply sitting in the presence of God in my walk-in closet. Initially, I rarely spoke. Gradually, I began to express my anger. (To date I've not been struck by lightning.) Over time, my anger subsided and then came an overwhelming sense of sadness. I cried a lot. I'd never felt safe enough to cry.

One day, I found myself thanking God for His faithfulness to me, for delighting in our time together, regardless of my flaws. For the first time, I wasn't thinking about the person who'd harmed me. I slowly awakened to my sinful re-actions to the harm. How I treated my loved ones at times. I didn't like what I saw. But I felt no condemnation.

Day after day, I sat basking in a love so compassionate that the reality of my own need for forgiveness could no longer be minimized. This compelled me to confess my sins. Christ forgave me. The very presence of a Holy God began to heal my broken heart.

Unfailing Love loved me, forgave me, healed me, and opened my eyes to see that the origin of my sin stems from the same sin others have so brutally wounded me with. (The sin nature of man.)

He comforted me first. He proved to me that all that I'd been through matters to Him. That although not all wounds are created equal (some are more serious and therefore, take longer to heal), the wage of all sin is death. All sin is equal in origin and consequence. (Psalm 55: 5, Romans 6:23)

About two years later, Christ prompted me to forgive. For the first time in my life, I had it to give. It was there because He put it there.

Life Lesson: Without humility of heart, forgiveness cannot be received from Christ and then extended to others. (No matter how many times we proclaim that all is forgiven.) Jesus instructs us to forgive from our hearts. He never once told me to "fake it until I make it."

Are you willing to set aside time with God each day and trust that His very presence will transform you?

Deep calls unto deep at the noise of Your waterfalls; all Your waves and billows have gone over me. The Lord will command His lovingkindness in the daytime, and in the night His song shall be with me--a prayer to the God of my life (Psalm 42:7-8).