“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Matthew 5:4 (ESV)
“As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him. For He knows our frame;He remembers that we are dust.”Psalm 103:13-14 (ESV)
Dear Father GOD in heaven, thank you for accepting me for who I am. Since no creature is hidden from your sight, this is the truth in my heart: APRIL reminds me of the terror that engulfed my beautiful country, the shameful death my loved ones died 21 year ago: April 7 (Marie Claudine, age 11), April 17 (Dad, 43), April 24 (Mama, 40 & Jean Felix, age 15). This month brings back horrific memories to relive nightmares that filled the emptiness followed their departure from this world.
I often wonder why they were gone so soon and how could anyone harm them!! I tearfully wish they lived to see and be proud of who I am today. I truly hate when doctors here ask me about my parents medical history or how they died; what am I supposed to say? It’s hard to let go of the fact that my parents weren’t there to see their youngest son Eric getting married last December. When I am struggling, I miss Papa’s voice telling me that everything will be okay.
Mama (photo taken in 1976; she was 22) and Papa (1985: he was 34)
Dear Lord, it’s not easy to accept that their grandkids and later generations will only meet them in my pages. My heart wanders each time I need someone to remind me of things from my childhood. I can’t help but wondering how my parents would have loved to see my place, meet my friends, see my new car, and hear about my job and stories of places I travel to on business. Father, I think that they’d have been proud. I am so sure of this!
Jesus, I very well know that where my loved ones are in your heaven, they’re no longer worried or suffering!
Will You please tell them that Miette, Alice, Eric and I miss them so deeply and love them very much!! Will You delegate your angels to narrate to them everything You had done for us for the past 21 years? Will You please assure Mama that You have been everything we ever need, that Your richness in us surpasses all our understanding? Will You tell Papa how your Protection keeps us safe, Your Love is our shield, Your Glory our success, Your grace our happiness?
Will You tell them that You have been our Provider, Defender and a shoulder to cry when we miss them? As I wrote last year this time that You and I would take care of their son’s wedding, will You please tell them for me that everything was perfect because You were our Guest of Honor? You are able to explain it better than I could ever do.
Father, will You again read the below TRIBUTE I wrote last year to Mama, Papa, MarieClaudine and JeanFelix? Thank you so much for putting an end to their pain and suffering of this life, and for making them dwell in your heaven and resting them in your eternal peace! And thank you for enabling me to honestly forgive their killers! You alone can make broken lives beautiful!
“For there is no distinction: for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.” Romans 3:22-24
This year, I have had the profound privilege of speaking about the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda (1994) and its aftermath, especially to younger audiences—middle school, high school, and college students. I have been deeply moved by their honesty, curiosity, and thoughtful questions.
At Phillips Middle School in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, I had the opportunity to speak to about 100 seventh-grade students. I had never felt so at ease sharing my life story with young people as I did that day. When I told them I was their age during the genocide, they were shocked. That realization created an immediate connection between us and made the conversation easier, because suddenly they could relate not just to the history, but to the age of the girl who lived through it.
Before my visit, their teacher had prepared them by teaching about the genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda and by sharing parts of my story. Their initial response was clear: “It is impossible to forgive someone who has committed genocide crimes.” Yet after the talk, some of them came to speak with me personally. I was deeply touched
@ Phillips Middle School, Feb 2014
At Trinity Academy in Raleigh, North Carolina, where I spoke to high school students in grades 9 through 12, the students had read my story in advance. Before I even arrived, they had submitted more than one hundred questions. Their questions were thoughtful, sincere, and deeply probing. I would like to share a few of them:
Do you believe, in this circumstance, that forgiveness is an intelligent decision?
How do you help others learn to forgive?
Just wondering, but Jesus said forgive 70 x 7 times and then that again, is that number larger enough to accommodate for the amount of deaths?
What has been your greatest struggle since your trials in 1994?
How do you keep your strength in forgiving your enemies? I understand God gives you strength but the event of your family being killed is still a hard thing to coup with.
How are you able to cope with talking about this horrible event over and over and not react to it in a negative way? But be able to find the good in the situation?
Is this similar to what is happening in Syria right now? A civil war containing of family and neighbors and friends fighting each other?
I was struck by how quickly these students grasped the weight and complexity of what they had read, even before I had the chance to speak to them. I do not claim to have answers to all of these questions, nor do I see myself as an expert on forgiveness. I am only sharing my life experience and what my eyes have seen.
This post is not intended to teach others how to forgive genocide crimes, or even to define forgiveness in general. It is simply my own story and experience. So please bear with me if your beliefs or opinions differ from mine.
There is no question about the depth of the loss. The Genocide against the Tutsi stole the most precious part of my life: my extraordinary parents, two of my siblings, and countless friends, neighbors, and classmates. My peaceful world was forever altered and violently shattered. The tragedy left me with deep wounds, permanent scars, and injuries I never asked for. Even now, I tremble as I try to comprehend such cruelty—how human beings became so ferocious, and how many of my loved ones were humiliated before they were killed.
@ Salem College, Winston-Salem, NC. Feb 2014
For a long time, I wanted to blot out my past completely and pretend the horror had only been a nightmare. In silence, I wished the month of April could be erased from the Gregorian calendar. For many years, I did not believe anything good could ever happen to me in April. In Kinyarwanda, April—Mata—means “milk,” perhaps echoing the country once described as flowing with milk and honey.
But in Mata 1994, streams of innocent blood ran down the hills and settled in the plains. Corpses filled rivers and mass graves. Crime scenes were hidden in an effort to conceal evil. Sorrow covered every high and low place in Rwanda, and voices of grief rang across the country of a thousand hills. It was the month when terror engulfed Rwanda, when longer daylight and shorter nights exposed those in hiding—people running for their lives, without even understanding why they were being hunted down to be hacked to death.
In that Mata, the soil of Rwanda opened to swallow the blood of innocent and beloved people who meant the world to me, without explanation. Then came the nightmares—reliving the horror again and again, waking up gasping for air, wondering if it was Mata all over again. Those terrifying nights lasted for years before I could have a normal dream that brought any calm to my soul.
And yet, I forgave those who caused this misery. I forgave them from the heart. The truth, however, is that it is nearly impossible to explain what it takes to move forward after genocide crimes, hatred, and injustice beyond comprehension. Any attempt to do so feels inadequate. But this is why I did it. No—let me say it rightly: this is what Jesus has done in me:
The 1994 genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda has caused irreversible damage in my life
Four members of my family were killed, not because of any crime they committed. Their death sentence was their physical appearance—something they were never given the chance to negotiate with God at birth. With that said, there is nothing in this life that can ever bring them back.
Not even if I were given the power to destroy everyone responsible, or to remove everyone who does not wish me well. But there is One who rules the world with justice, and He sees everything. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.” Matthew 5:9
So when I feel anger and hatred crouching at the door of my heart, I remember Romans 12:20: “To the contrary, if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.” It is written, and it is true. The greatest vengeance you can ever take against someone who has wronged you is to forgive them.
@ The Summit Church, Durham, NC. November 2013
My parents and two siblings are in heaven with God.
Absolutely. Beyond any shadow of doubt. Their tears are gone, and their pain has come to an end. They are no longer being tortured. They are no longer grieving. Their journey on this earth ended far too soon, but their life with Jesus will never end. I wait patiently for the day I will see them again, in a life that knows no sorrow and no broken heart. I miss them with a sorrow that runs deep.
With that said, it is written in Hebrews 12:14: “Strive for peace with everyone and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord”. For all it is worth, I long for holiness because I long to see God, who has my parents and two siblings with Him. Holiness, on my part, includes forgiveness—not only toward those who made me an orphan, but also toward everyone who has hurt me, in matters both small and great.
Forgiveness benefits the forgiver more than the one being forgiven.
Beyond the Word of God, even science has shown that forgiveness brings healing. When you love someone, you think about them often and wish them well. In the same way, when you have been deeply wronged, every reminder of the injustice done to you or to someone you love can stir a reaction, whether consciously or unconsciously. That reaction may show itself through rage, frustration, nightmares, headaches, lack of trust, sleep disorders, depression, withdrawal, resentment, and more.
“One source explains: Studies from theNational Library of Medicine found forgiveness to be associated with lower heart rate and blood pressure, as well as stress relief. A later study found forgiveness to be positively associated with five measures of health: physical symptoms, medications used, sleep quality, fatigue, and somatic complaints.” In other words, forgiveness can affect not only the heart and mind, but the body as well.
Personally, I want my mind to be occupied by treasured memories and by hope. The wonders of God in my life overwhelm me with gratitude and humility. He held my hand and reminded me that I was not alone through trials and tribulations, when no one else was there to comfort me. My God and I remain undefeated.
As for those who have hurt me, their evil intentions have no place in my records. As I extend forgiveness to them, whether they ask for it or not, I feel free. Each time I forgive, my heart feels lighter, as though a heavy burden has been lifted from my shoulders.
@ PKN Raleigh, NC. May 2013
I make mistakes, too!
“I’m a sinner, FIRST, sinned against SECOND.” ~ The Summit Church
I have to remind myself of this all the time. Just as Jesus said, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. I often find myself thinking, wishing, or even doing things that I would not want to entertain in my right mind, simply because of the desires of my sinful heart. And when that happens, I have to stop and ask myself: Seriously? How did I even allow myself to think that, or do that?
Romans 3:23 goes like this: “for all have sinned and fell short of the glory of God”.
I do not see anywhere that says only those who shed blood are sinners. Everyone, including victims, needs Jesus. If we are all in the same boat, then on what basis am I better qualified to judge others and decide their fate?
In Mathew 18:21-35, after Peter asked Jesus how many times he should forgive a brother who sins against him, Jesus told the parable of the unforgiving servant. A king had a servant who owed him an enormous debt—so great he could never repay it. Since he could not pay, the king ordered that he and his family be sold. But the servant fell on his knees and begged for more time. Out of pity, the king forgave the debt completely.
Yet as soon as that same servant left, he found a fellow servant who owed him a much smaller amount. He grabbed him, began choking him, and demanded full payment. When the man could not pay, he had him thrown into prison. When the master learned what had happened, he was furious. He handed the unforgiving servant over to be punished until his own debt could be paid.
Honestly, if my past, present, and future sins were converted into any kind of currency, I would be imprisoned for life. They are too many to count. Because I, too, have been forgiven, I do not want to be like that unforgiving servant. My part in all of this is to forgive—even when those who have wronged me do not deserve it and never ask for it.
Everyone will be held accountable for their acts, someday!
This life will end. There is no doubt about that. One day, we will all stand before God—whether we believe in Him or not—and our works in this life will be measured and tested. Hebrews 4:13 says: “And no creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account.” God sees it all, and His judgment is perfectly accurate.
The example for our lives was set at the cross, where Jesus died in shame to reconcile the world to God. He is the greatest example of what it means to forgive, even when the pain is beyond measure.
“Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed” Isaiah 53: 4-5
“Forgiveness is not an occasional act, it is a constant attitude.” ― Martin Luther King Jr.
“Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” Romans 12: 19
Sins may carry different weight, but I am not the one to decide which ones are unforgivable. God sees it all, and He alone is the righteous Judge. Who am I to take His seat? I am neither wise enough to fully understand His ways nor qualified to question what He is doing.
More than anything, this gives me peace. Knowing that He will deal justly with my enemies teaches me to truly forgive and to leave the rest to God’s wrath. This is my understanding of forgiveness.
“You will know that forgiveness has begun when you recall those who hurt you and feel the power to wish them well.” – Lewis B. Smedes.
“When you hold resentment toward another, you are bound to that person or condition by an emotional link that is stronger than steel. Forgiveness is the only way to dissolve that link and get free.” ~ Catherine Ponder
It’s hard to believe it’s been twenty years since you left us. The world simply hasn’t been the same without your presence — your beauty, your love, your light.
It still feels like yesterday, when life was whole — a joyful family of eight, wrapped in your love and safety.
The pain of your absence never fades. Not a day goes by without thoughts of you. Though you’re no longer with us in body, your memory lives — richly, eternally — in our hearts.
I believe God loved you so deeply that He called all four of you to His side. But if I could ask Him for just one impossible gift, it would be this:
To give me wings. To soar to where you are. To hold you tight, to say “I love you,” and never let go.
Until that eternal day, I remain under the shelter of God’s wings. One day, death will lose its power, our tears will be wiped away, and our hearts will be whole again — forever.
***
My dearest little sister, Marie Claudine “Magnifique” — you were an angel in life, and you left this world like one
It still breaks my heart to know you were among the very first taken in our village when the Genocide against the Tutsi began that Thursday morning. What could you have possibly done to deserve such cruelty?
I’m grateful I had the chance to say goodbye — to see you one last time, your arms folded as if in prayer, even as blood marked the violence that silenced you. The image haunts me, but I cling to the truth that God loved you far more than I ever could.
You left this world like an angel, and I imagine heaven welcomed you with open arms that very morning — Thursday, April 7th. I marvel at the celebration held in your honor, and I smile through tears knowing you were cherished.
One day, you’ll tell me all about it. And when my time here is complete — the very life that was spared this same month, twenty years ago — I’ll catch you up on everything you’ve missed.
Until then, I’ll carry your memory and love with me… always. I will love you — forever.
***
Papa, you left too soon, but the confidence you placed in me as a little girl still carries me forward.
I vividly remember the day you surrendered your final breath — Sunday afternoon, April 17th. That was the day we overheard the Hutu Interahamwe boasting that they had cut you into three pieces, and that they were hunting for us — Mom and the five children — to finish us all. How could anyone on this earth harm you?
You may have been tortured in the flesh, but I know your sweet soul is safe with the God you taught us to pray to. Do you remember how your face lit up whenever I did well in school? I know you would have been proud to see me finish all the way to graduate school, land my dream job, and build a life in a faraway country that has become my new home. Can you believe you weren’t here to celebrate with me?
I miss you every day. But Jesus — my Savior and King — stands in your place and Mom’s. He comforts me when I am afraid, He cheers when I succeed, and He still loves me when I fail.
Late 1994, I had a dream where I promised you: That I would love your surviving children as you would have, had you lived. I am humbled to say that I have kept that promise. Whatever I have, I have shared with them. And as long as I have breath, they will never lack for anything.
When Jesus returns in glory, and all the nations stand before Him, I will not be ashamed. The Holy Spirit Himself is my witness. And I know you, Mama, Marie Claudine, and Jean Felix will be among the great cloud of witnesses there.
There is so much I want to tell you — but for now, I trust God to fill you in.
I miss you, Papa. But I am strong because of the foundation you laid, and the God you taught me to worship. P.S. — Thank you and Mama for giving me the name Alphonsine — “warrior.” You named me well. You prepared me for the battles ahead.
Rest in heavenly peace, Papa. I will love you eternally.
***
Dear Mama, when I think back to our final moments together, I’m reminded of how you always stood for the truth — even when it cost you everything.
As we waited by the mass grave for our death sentence that Sunday afternoon, April 24th, I remember how the blood-shedders asked if you had more children elsewhere, so they could hunt them down too. You didn’t lie. You stood in truth — ready to walk into God’s heaven.
I remember pleading with the killers — begging them not to harm you before I came back, when they assigned a soldier to escort me — not to protect me, but to make sure I wouldn’t escape — as I went to bring Eric, Alice, and Noella. Those desperate words were my final conversation with you. And yet, by a miracle I can never explain, all three of them — and I — survived.
Today, I am their mother. I love them more than anything in this life, and I do everything I think you and Papa would have done for us. They — and God — are my witnesses.
Oh, how I wish you could see them now! They’re all grown, beautiful, and extraordinary. Eric and Alice will finish their Master’s degrees this year, and Noella, your last born, is completing college. They are the greatest gifts I have ever received.
And there’s more: Eric is marrying the love of his life later this year — a woman so incredible you would have adored her too. God and I will take care of every detail in their wedding. It breaks my heart that you and Papa won’t be there to see it.
Noella barely remembers your faces, but that’s okay. She has me now. And as long as I live, she will be cherished, spoiled, and protected — this I promise you and Papa forever.
Mama, did God tell you that He blessed me with another mother here on earth? She may not look like you, but she loves and nurtures me just as you did — almost as if you had sent her yourself.
I have so many amazing friends now, in a land far from our homeland. They make me feel loved, and special. I know you would be so proud.
Even though I only had you for a few short years, your love was pure, fierce, and unforgettable. I still hear your voice when I am sick, feel your comfort when I am overwhelmed, and remember how you spoiled me with a love that asked for nothing in return.
There’s so much more I want to tell you — but I will save it for when we meet again in heaven.
I will love you forever, Mama. Always.
***
My dear big brother Jean Felix, I’ll never forget how you stood as my protector at school — tall and strong, making sure no one dared come near
I’m so sorry that my last memory of you is one of suffering. I wish I had been stronger — strong enough to stop the Hutu Interahamwe who beat you with sharp wires, while blood poured down your beautiful face. That moment is burned into my heart.
Whenever I watch The Passion of the Christ, I’m reminded of you. Just like Jesus, you were brutally beaten though you had done nothing wrong. And when I see His face — broken, bleeding, innocent — I see yours.
But I know, with absolute certainty, that on Sunday afternoon, April 24th, Jesus welcomed you and Mama into His beautiful heaven. You belonged there far more than in this world of pain and injustice.
Those memories are hard to carry, but they also give me courage. Knowing you’re no longer suffering brings me comfort and strength to keep going.
I know well that I will see you again — with Mama, Papa, and Magnifique — when I finish the work you all began, and fulfill the mission God entrusted to me. That’s why He didn’t take me with you that day, okay? He had more for me to do.
Rest in God’s eternal peace. I miss you every single day. I will love you, all my days.
Eric, Alice, Noella, and I — twenty years later — still carry your memory as vividly as ever. Your love continues to water our spirits daily, etched into the pillars of our hearts. You are our heroes, and we hold fast to your words, your example, and your pride.
As we mark this twentieth commemoration of your lives taken too soon, we choose again to forgive those who killed you simply for how you looked, something you never bargained for at birth.
We pray your killers find God and repent, but if not, they will stand before the Redeemer and the Defender of the Fatherless. Justice is His alone. He will repay.
Your legacy lives on in us. We are stronger because of you, and everything we do is to make you proud. We miss you deeply, but we know that you now dwell in the place where souls like yours belong — in peace, in glory, in heaven.
We will finish what you began. You are alive in our hearts for as long as we live. We will love you — forever and always.
My siblings and I grew up in a large family: two boys and four girls. I am the second and oldest girl; but this post is not about me. I want to share with the world about the fourth child, my little brother Jean Eric Claude. I vividly remember when he was born, I was almost 5 years old. He was a big baby (about 10 pounds), extremely beautiful with chubby cheeks and so much curly hair. I asked my mother if I could hold him, but I was unable to because he was too heavy for me. I am sure you are wondering if I am describing the right person basing on the below picture. By the way, that makes two of us! I am not sure how he grew up to become thinner than the rest of the family.
When Eric was young, him and I used to fight a lot. I am sure I provoked him but he was not that easy either. He played outside always, and was injured all the time from different utensils he collected or perhaps some fights he may have been involved in. He was a stubborn little guy.
On Sunday afternoon, April 24th, 1994, exactly 17 days since the genocide against the Tutsi began in Rwanda, everything changed! God must have stirred something unimaginable in this 8 year old’s heart after my Mom, my old brother Jean Felix, my cousin and I were led by the infamous interahamwe militiamen to the mass grave in the lower Kanombe, suburbs of Kigali, to be killed.
Sparing you the details for now, I miraculously survived but my Mom, brother and cousin didn’t. Although death was everywhere, I undoubtedly cherish that afternoon because God gave me another chance to life. However, the same day I got separated from my brother Eric, and sisters Alice and Mireille, who were all under 10. At this point, they were so certain I was dead, and I thought the same for them.
My handsome brother, now a grown up man! I’m eternally honored to be called his sister.
With no instructions on what to do next or a moment to think about it, my baby brother immediately assumed the role of a big brother and a parent. Fleeing amid rain of bullets, blood thirst machetes and hiding in unfamiliar areas, he tied up a piece of blanket around his neck so his two sisters could hold on to it.
Sigh…
I often wonder how the blanket didn’t choke him or how he figured out that this would be the best approach for his dear sisters. Few times, the youngest Mireille who was 3, got separated from them; unable to decide what to do, she would simply stay wherever she was left. Was she scared? When you are aware that death awaits you any minute, the sense of feeling becomes numb, even at such age.
As soon as my brother realized that she was missing, when parents left babies to cry to death and everyone was just running for their life, my brother turned around to look for Mireille. No wonder why their hearts have been knitted together ever since!
Also each time they found something to eat after days, my little brother would let my sisters eat first. After they have had enough in their little tummies, only then he would grab some.
Their stories after we got separated still wound my heart greatly. It certainly is where my forgiveness is tried the most. But I praise GOD, for keeping them safe, allowing me to be part of their precious lives, and His amazing Grace!
The spoiled brat quickly became a MAN at that young age, a selfless one. I doubt I would have been able to put my life in danger to find my little sister or keep them safe, when sounds of terror and weeping voices of sorrow rang across all corners of the country. Only extraordinary, rare people would do that. I often wonder what was in his mind, but the LOVE he had for his little sister sure overcame his fear and selfishness of saving his own life. God Almighty knew well that I was incapable of doing such a heroic act and led me alone.
My Beautiful Girls, my Greatest Blessing, my Treasure! Mireille (left) and Alice (right).
Only those who have been through a genocide can understand my inability to describe the cruelty of the humans who became ferocious animals: babies were cut out of their mothers’ wombs and smashed against walls; relatives denied each other, neighbors turned their back on their friends, husbands killed wives and children, hell engulfed Rwanda. Amid terror, my little brother didn’t care about death that surrounded him, and God used him to keep my little sisters alive. He is my hero, my best friend! If I could get hold of the whole world, I would freely give it to him; if I was part of the Nobel Prize organizing committee, he would get at least a few of those!
My brother’s last name “Mudacumura”, means “innocent“ in both English and French. This truly depicts who he is. He has every quality you can possibly look in a great man: selflessness, humility, passion, compassion, a big heart, brilliant, kindness, funny, sweet, down to earth, loves God, handsome, a true gentleman! Until this day, he puts his siblings’ interests before his. He is the rock of our family, an exact replica of our father.
I CANNOT wait already for the day he will tie the knot with this incredible woman of his dreams, probably the luckiest girl on this planet. No one deserves happiness more than him. And I can’t wait for the day we will again see our parents, so I can narrate all about a little boy they left behind, now the most amazing man in the whole wide world.
I love my brother with everything functioning in me. Him and his two sisters are the reason I am alive, there is no doubt about that.
They will never, EVER, need anything my ability can provide; God and my parents in heaven have my word!
It hurts my feelings when I think that one day I may not be the first person they all run to for help. Of course I work hard for their independence, but it will greatly shatter my heart. They will always be my children, little in my eyes. And they certainly have all my love and attention, all my days!!!
And this, my friends, is the source of my strength and hope: God, the great I am!
Forgiveness is one of the most difficult yet powerful choices we can make. It asks us to let go of hurt, pride, and the desire for revenge—to respond with kindness where we’ve been wronged, and to move forward without resentment. That kind of grace doesn’t come easily. It requires strength, humility, and often, deep faith.
As I reflected on forgiveness, I turned to one of my greatest sources of inspiration—the Bible. Time and again, Scripture presents extraordinary examples of individuals who chose forgiveness, even in the face of betrayal, injustice, and suffering.
One story that stands out is that of David.
Though anointed by God, David spent years fleeing for his life from King Saul, who was jealous and intent on killing him. David had more than one opportunity to take revenge, yet he chose restraint. In 1 Samuel 26, we see David and Abishai come upon Saul asleep in his camp. Abishai urges David to kill him, but David refuses, saying, “Do not destroy him, for who can put out his hand against the Lord’s anointed and be guiltless?” (1 Samuel 26:9). Instead of vengeance, David chose honor and trust in God’s justice.
Then there’s Stephen.
As he preached with wisdom and power, he faced false accusations, was seized, and eventually stoned to death. Yet, as he was dying, his final words were, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” (Acts 7:60). Even as stones rained down upon him, Stephen extended forgiveness to those who took his life.
And, of course, there is Jesus.
As He hung on the cross, suffering a brutal and unjust death, He looked at those who mocked and crucified Him and said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). This is the ultimate example of mercy and love in the face of cruelty.
These stories speak deeply to the heart, especially in a world filled with injustice. We see so much pain today—racism, discrimination, lies, abuse of power, violence, and hatred. Watching the news can be overwhelming. It’s easy to feel helpless or angry in the face of so much wrong.
Paul, in his letter to Timothy, warned of such times:
“In the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive… heartless, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good… having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power” (2 Timothy 3:1-5).
Still, we’re called to a higher standard.
So I ask:
Would I want to be treated with dignity, even when I fall short?
When someone hurts me, do I long for them to see the pain they caused and make it right?
How do I want others to respond to my needs and humanity?
Can I offer that same grace to others?
David, Stephen, and Jesus weren’t weak. Their forgiveness was an act of strength rooted in trust—trust that God sees, knows, and will judge with justice. When we choose to forgive, we’re not saying the wrong didn’t matter; we’re saying we believe in a God who will make all things right.
So if today, you were given the chance to avenge someone who deeply wronged you—would you choose forgiveness instead?
It’s not easy. But imagine how different the world would be if we all treated others the way we wish to be treated. Forgiveness is not forgetting—it’s faith in action.
Beauty for Ashes 