Father,

I come before You broken, wounded, and struggling with pain that has taken root in my heart. You know the depth of my hurt, the wounds that seem too deep to heal, the anger that has become a heavy chain around my spirit.

 

Lord, I have been deeply wronged. Someone has caused me profound pain, and the thought of forgiving them feels impossible right now. When people tell me I should forgive, I want to scream. They do not understand. They were not there. They did not experience what I experienced.

 

But You were there. You saw everything that happened to me. You know every detail of my pain, every moment of my suffering, every tear I have cried. You understand this hurt more deeply than anyone.

 

I acknowledge that unforgiveness is not just hurting those who wounded me, it is destroying my own soul. The bitterness I carry is poisoning me from the inside. The anger I nurse is keeping me bound to the very people and events I want to be free from. The resentment I hold is giving my abuser continued power over my life.

 

Right now, I cannot find the strength to forgive. When I think about what was done to me, fury rises up. When I remember how I was treated, rage fills my heart. When I consider releasing this person from what they owe me, everything in me resists.

 

But I am bringing this brokenness to You. I am honest about where I am. I cannot pretend to feel what I do not feel. I cannot force forgiveness that is not yet real in my heart.

 

For it is written, "Cast your burden upon the Lord, and He will sustain you; He will never let the righteous be shaken" (Psalm 55:22).

 

I cast this burden upon You now, the burden of what was done to me, the burden of the pain I carry, the burden of the unforgiveness that chains me. I cannot carry it anymore. It is too heavy. It is crushing me.

 

Lord, I surrender my pain. I may not be able to forgive right now, but I am willing to be made willing. I am asking You to do in my heart what I cannot do myself. I am inviting You into this journey, even though I do not know where it will lead.

 

Transform this heart of stone into a heart of flesh. Begin the work that only You can do.

 

I ask You specifically:

Heal the wounded places in my heart. There are parts of me that are so damaged I do not know if they can ever be whole again. The trauma has left scars that run deep. The betrayal has shattered my trust. The abuse has broken something precious inside me. Come to these wounded places. Bring Your healing touch to what feels beyond repair.

 

Break the chains of bitterness. I have held onto this bitterness because it felt like the only power I had, the only way to protect myself, the only response that matched the magnitude of what was done to me. But this bitterness is destroying me. It is keeping me prisoner. It is giving my abuser victory over my life even now. Break these chains, Lord. Set me free.

 

Give me supernatural strength to begin the healing journey. I cannot do this in my own strength. I have tried and failed. I have attempted to move past this and found myself dragged back into the pain again and again. I need Your strength, Your power, Your grace to even take the first step towards healing.

 

Replace my pain with Your peace. I do not know what peace feels like anymore. I have carried this pain for so long it has become part of my identity. I am afraid of who I will be without it. But I am also exhausted from carrying it. Replace this pain with Your peace that surpasses understanding.

 

Protect my heart whilst You do Your healing work. I am vulnerable right now. The wounds are exposed. The defences are down. Protect me whilst I heal. Do not let anyone or anything damage me further whilst I am in this fragile state.

 

I ask You to reveal the roots of my pain. Show me what lies beneath the surface. Is there childhood trauma that makes this current wound cut so deep? Is there a pattern of abuse I have endured? Is there generational pain I am carrying? 

 

Help me to understand so I can address not just the symptoms but the roots. Help me to understand that forgiveness is not about the other person, it is about my own freedom. 

 

Forgiveness does not mean what they did was acceptable. It does not mean they deserve to be released. It does not mean I must reconcile with them or trust them again. Forgiveness simply means I release them from the debt they owe me so that I can be free from the burden of carrying that debt.

 

Teach me how to release this burden. I do not know how to let go of something that has consumed me for so long. Show me practical steps. Should I seek counselling or pastoral support? Should I journal this healing journey, writing out my pain and Your responses? Should I speak my forgiveness aloud even when I do not yet feel it in my heart? Guide me in the process.

 

Fill the empty spaces left by hurt with Your love and grace. When I release this pain, there will be empty spaces where the anger used to live, where the bitterness used to dwell. Do not let those spaces remain empty. Fill them with Your love, Your peace, Your grace, Your presence.

 

For it is written, "The Lord is near to the brokenhearted; He saves the contrite in spirit" (Psalm 34:18).

 

Draw near to me now, Lord. My heart is shattered. My spirit is crushed. Be close to me in this devastation.

 

I recognise that forgiveness is a process, not a single moment. I will not wake up tomorrow with all the pain gone and full forgiveness in my heart. This will be a journey. There will be setbacks. There will be days when the anger returns with full force. There will be moments when I choose bitterness again before I can choose release.

 

Meet me where I am. Do not demand from me what I cannot yet give. Do not expect instant healing for wounds that cut this deep. Walk with me through this process, one step at a time.

 

Help me to practice self-compassion on this journey. I will be hard on myself when I cannot forgive as quickly as I think I should. I will judge myself for still feeling angry when I have prayed for release. I will condemn myself for struggling with what seems to come easily to others. Teach me to be gentle with myself, to give myself the same grace You extend to me.

 

Remind me that my worth is not defined by what was done to me. The abuse I suffered does not determine my value. The betrayal I experienced does not define my identity. The pain I carry does not measure my worth. I am beloved, chosen, precious in Your sight—not because of what happened or did not happen to me, but because of Your unconditional love for me.

 

Show me if I need professional help on this journey. Some wounds are too deep to heal without skilled intervention. If I need a counsellor who understands trauma, guide me to the right person. If I need pastoral support, connect me with someone wise and compassionate. If I need medical help for the physical effects of this trauma, lead me to appropriate care.

 

Protect me from people who do not understand. There will be those who tell me to "just forgive and move on," who minimise my pain, who suggest I am holding onto bitterness unnecessarily. Protect me from their unhelpful advice. Surround me instead with people who understand that healing takes time, that forgiveness is a journey, that some wounds cannot be rushed.

 

Work in the heart of the person who wounded me. I cannot change them. I cannot make them acknowledge what they did. I cannot force them to apologise or make amends. But You can work in their heart. If there is any possibility of genuine repentance, bring it. If there is any chance of real change, create it. But do not make my healing dependent on their response.

 

For it is written, "And we know that God works all things together for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28).

 

Even in this devastation, You are working for my good. I cannot see it now. I cannot imagine how anything good can come from this pain. But I choose to trust that You can bring redemption even from this. You specialise in bringing beauty from ashes, in creating purpose from pain, in transforming wounds into wisdom.

 

Help me to understand that choosing to begin the forgiveness journey does not mean I am weak. It means I am strong enough to refuse to let my abuser continue to have power over me. It means I am brave enough to choose freedom over the familiar prison of bitterness. It means I love myself enough to release what is destroying me.

 

Give me hope for the future. Right now I cannot imagine ever being free from this pain. I cannot picture myself whole again. I cannot envision a life where this wound is not the defining feature. But You can see what I cannot see. You know the healing that awaits. You hold the future You have planned for me. Give me hope to keep walking towards it.

 

I may stumble on this journey. I may take two steps forward and three steps back. I may choose forgiveness today and wake up tomorrow drowning in bitterness again. But I am committing to the process. I am saying yes to healing, even though I do not know how to get there. I am opening my heart to Your transforming work, even though I am afraid of what that transformation might require.

 

Walk with me, Lord. Hold my hand through the difficult parts. Carry me when I cannot take another step. Comfort me when the pain overwhelms. Strengthen me when I want to give up. Heal me in Your perfect timing and Your perfect way.

 

I trust You with this journey, even when I cannot trust myself.

In Jesus' name, who suffered the ultimate injustice and yet forgave from the cross,

Amen.