Forgiveness Over Resentment

When God Asks You to Heal What You’d Rather Hold Onto

By Cherie Faulk | The Lost Conversation

Forgiveness sounds beautiful until you have to do it while you’re still hurting.

It sounds spiritual until the text comes through.

Until the conversation goes left.

Until the same issue shows up again.

Until you find yourself sitting at the kitchen table with your husband, trying to process something you wish you didn’t have to keep processing.

There are moments in blended family life where you can feel your heart trying to harden.

Not because you don’t love God.

Not because you don’t want peace.

Not because you’re trying to be bitter.

But because you’re tired.

Tired of explaining.

Tired of praying about the same thing.

Tired of being the bigger person.

Tired of trying to keep your heart clean in situations that keep touching the wounded places.

And if I’m being honest, forgiveness has been one of the hardest parts of this co-parenting journey.

Not the kind of forgiveness we talk about when everything is calm.

I mean the kind of forgiveness that has to happen while the situation is still complicated.

While the emotions are still fresh.

While the child is still in the middle.

While you’re still trying to love well, speak wisely, and not let resentment become the language of your home.

There have been moments where resentment felt justified.

I know that may not sound like the “right” thing to say, but it’s the honest thing.

Sometimes resentment doesn’t show up loud and ugly.

Sometimes it sounds mature.

It says, “I’m just protecting my peace.”

It says, “I’m just tired of being disrespected.”

It says, “I’m not bitter, I just remember what happened.”

It says, “I’ve forgiven, but I’m not forgetting.”

And before you know it, you’re not just remembering.

You’re rehearsing.

Replaying the offense.

Rebuilding the argument.

Rehearsing what you should have said.

Preparing your heart for the next disappointment before it even arrives.

I’ve had moments like that.

Moments where Dex and I were talking through custody issues, communication problems, parenting schedules, boundaries, court-related stress, and the emotional weight of trying to do right by a child we love.

And I could feel resentment trying to rise in me.

Not always as rage.

Sometimes as sarcasm.

Sometimes as silence.

Sometimes as “here we go again.”

Sometimes as a wall I called wisdom.

But God knows the difference between a boundary and bitterness.

He knows when I’m protecting peace.

And He knows when I’m preserving pain.

That is where He has been checking me.

Not condemning me.

Checking me.

Because there is a difference.

Conviction does not come to shame you. It comes to save you from becoming someone your pain was never supposed to turn you into.

Watching Dex fight for a relationship with his son has touched a deep place in me.

Because when you love someone, their pain does not stay separate from you.

You feel it.

You hear it in their voice.

You see it in their eyes.

You notice when they are trying to stay strong, but something in them is tired.

And as his wife, there have been moments where I wanted to fix it.

I wanted to make things fair.

I wanted to remove the obstacles.

I wanted people to see what I see.

I wanted love to be enough to make everything easier.

But blended family life does not always work like that.

Sometimes love has to move through parenting plans, communication logs, missed moments, hard conversations, and decisions made by other people.

Sometimes love has to be patient in a process that feels painfully slow.

And in that process, I have had to watch my own heart.

Because I cannot say I’m praying for restoration while secretly making room for resentment.

I cannot ask God to heal relationships while letting bitterness grow in me.

I cannot want peace for the child and still allow adult frustration to set the atmosphere.

That does not mean I ignore what is wrong.

It means I refuse to let what is wrong become what leads me.

And if I’m going to tell the truth, this lesson has not only been about Dex and what he has walked through.

God has been dealing with me too.

Especially in the places connected to Big Desi.

That part is personal.

Because sometimes forgiveness is not just about one moment.

Sometimes it is history.

It is old conversations.

Old disappointments.

Old misunderstandings.

Old wounds you thought you had moved past until something current touches them again.

There have been moments where I had to sit with God and admit that my frustration was not only about what was happening now.

Some of it was connected to what had already happened.

Some of it was the feeling of not being heard.

Some of it was the weight of trying to keep showing up well while still carrying things that were never fully addressed.

Some of it was me trying to be mature while secretly feeling tired of always having to be mature.

And that is where resentment can get dangerous.

Because it does not always come from one big thing.

Sometimes it grows from a collection of small things that never got healed.

A comment you swallowed.

A moment that hurt more than you admitted.

A boundary that was crossed.

A conversation that never happened.

A disappointment you kept functioning through because life did not give you time to fall apart.

And then one day, you realize you are not responding to the moment in front of you.

You are responding to everything attached to it.

That is what God has been showing me.

I can have real feelings and still need surrender.

I can have valid pain and still need healing.

I can have boundaries and still need forgiveness.

Because if I am not careful, my child can inherit the residue of what I never gave to God.

And I don’t want that.

I don’t want Dex’s son, or any child connected to us to inherit a war they did not create.

I don’t want them carrying adult wounds in their little hearts.

I don’t want bitterness to be passed down like tradition.

I don’t want resentment to become the background noise of our family.

So I have to let God deal with me.

Not just them.

Me.

The declaration is simple, but it is heavy:

I forgive quickly so my child doesn’t inherit my resentment.

That sentence sounds good until you realize what it requires.

It requires pausing before you speak.

It requires asking God to filter your tone.

It requires not using children as emotional witnesses to adult pain.

It requires not making them responsible for what adults have not healed.

It requires keeping their hearts protected, even when your own heart feels bruised.

Children may not know every detail.

They may not understand custody language, parenting plans, court dates, communication struggles, or the history behind the tension.

But they can feel the atmosphere.

They can feel when a room gets tight.

They can feel when a name is spoken with bitterness.

They can feel when love is being filtered through offense.

They can feel when adults are present physically but emotionally at war.

And I don’t want that to be what they remember.

I don’t want them to grow up thinking love always has to come with tension.

I don’t want them to feel like they have to choose sides in battles they never asked to be part of.

I don’t want them to inherit my unhealed places.

That is why forgiveness matters.

Not because the other person always deserves it.

Not because the situation is easy.

Not because the pain did not happen.

But because the children are watching.

And more than that, God is watching my heart.

Let me say this clearly.

Forgiveness is not pretending nothing happened.

Forgiveness is not acting like the hurt did not matter.

Forgiveness is not removing boundaries.

Forgiveness is not letting dysfunction keep happening and calling it grace.

Forgiveness is not giving people unlimited access to keep wounding you.

Forgiveness is releasing the offense from becoming the ruler of your heart.

It is saying, “This hurt me, but it will not control me.”

It is saying, “I remember, but I will not rehearse it until it becomes my identity.”

It is saying, “I need boundaries, but I do not need bitterness.”

It is saying, “God, I trust You enough to handle what I cannot make right on my own.”

And that is hard.

Because sometimes I want God to deal with the situation before He deals with me.

I want Him to correct the other person.

I want Him to expose the truth.

I want Him to move quickly.

I want Him to bring justice in a way I can see.

But there are times when God starts with my heart first.

He starts with my tone.

He starts with my thoughts.

He starts with the conversation I am having in my head.

He starts with the resentment I have been calling discernment.

He starts with the wound I have been calling wisdom.

And I may not always like it, but I know I need it.

Because I do not want to become hard in a season where God is trying to make me whole.

Colossians 3:13 says:

“Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”
— Colossians 3:13

That verse does not say forgive when it is easy.

It does not say forgive when the person apologizes perfectly.

It does not say forgive when everything is resolved.

It says forgive as the Lord forgave you.

And that part always humbles me.

Because God has forgiven me for things I had no excuse for.

He has been patient with me in places where I was slow to grow.

He has covered me when I was still learning.

He has loved me through immaturity, fear, pride, and moments when I did not get it right.

So how can I receive that kind of mercy and refuse to let it flow through me?

Proverbs 10:12 says:

“Hatred stirs up conflict, but love covers over all wrongs.”
— Proverbs 10:12

Love does not cover wrong by hiding truth.

Love covers by refusing to let wrong have the final word.

Love covers by protecting what is tender.

Love covers by choosing not to expose children to bitterness they cannot process.

Love covers by letting God be God, even when my flesh wants to be the judge.

And Romans 12:21 says:

“Do not be overcome by evil but overcome evil with good.”
— Romans 12:21

That scripture sounds simple until you have to live it in a blended family situation.

Until you have to respond with maturity when you feel misunderstood.

Until you have to choose peace when your flesh wants to prove a point.

Until you have to forgive quickly because a child’s heart is more important than your need to be right.

I am learning that forgiveness is not always a feeling.

Sometimes it is obedience.

Sometimes it is a whispered prayer before I respond.

Sometimes it is telling Dex, “I need a minute because I don’t want to speak from the wrong place.”

Sometimes it is asking God to help me separate what happened today from everything that happened before.

Sometimes it is choosing not to let my face tell a story my mouth never said.

Sometimes it is choosing not to pass my pain into the atmosphere of my home.

I am learning that resentment is heavy.

It takes energy to stay offended.

It takes energy to keep replaying the hurt.

It takes energy to build a case in your heart every day.

It takes energy to stay prepared for disappointment.

And I am tired of giving my energy to something that does not heal me.

Peace takes work too.

But peace gives something back.

Peace steadies me.

Peace softens me.

Peace helps me hear God.

Peace makes room for wisdom.

Peace allows me to love without becoming foolish and set boundaries without becoming cruel.

That is the kind of woman I want to be.

That is the kind of wife I want to be.

That is the kind of mother I want to be.

That is the kind of atmosphere I want our children to experience.

Not perfect.

But peaceful.

Not fake.

But surrendered.

Not without hard conversations.

But without hatred leading them.

At some point, somebody has to decide that bitterness stops here.

Somebody has to say, “I will not pass this down.”

Somebody has to say, “My child will not carry what I refuse to heal.”

Somebody has to say, “I can tell the truth without being toxic.”

Somebody has to say, “I can have boundaries without becoming bitter.”

Somebody has to say, “God, heal this in me before it leaks onto them.”

And maybe in this season, that somebody is me.

Maybe it is Dex and I together.

Maybe it is you too.

Maybe God is not asking you to pretend the hurt did not happen.

Maybe He is asking you to stop letting it parent your responses.

Maybe He is asking you to forgive, not because they earned it, but because your children deserve a heart that is not ruled by resentment.

Maybe He is asking you to release the war so peace can have somewhere to live.

Today, I choose forgiveness over resentment.

Not because I am okay with everything.

Not because the process has been easy.

Not because every conversation has been healed.

Not because every issue has been resolved.

I choose forgiveness because I refuse to let bitterness build a home in me.

I choose forgiveness because Big Desi deserves a mother who is healing.

I choose forgiveness because Dex’s son deserves love that is not filtered through adult frustration.

I choose forgiveness because our home deserves peace.

I choose forgiveness because God has forgiven me.

And I choose forgiveness because I still believe God can do more with a surrendered heart than I can do with a resentful one.

Prayer

Father,

Help me forgive quickly, honestly, and wisely.

Not in a fake way.

Not in a way that ignores truth.

Not in a way that removes healthy boundaries.

Not in a way that excuses what hurt.

But in a way that keeps my heart clean before You.

Show me where resentment has been hiding behind frustration, exhaustion, protection, or pride.

Show me where old wounds are still speaking louder than Your wisdom.

Help me release the offenses I keep rehearsing.

Help me surrender the conversations I cannot change.

Help me trust You with the people, situations, and outcomes I cannot control.

Protect the children connected to my obedience.

Do not let them inherit my resentment.

Do not let them carry my pain.

Do not let them become emotional casualties of adult wounds.

Teach me how to love with wisdom.

Teach me how to speak with grace.

Teach me how to set boundaries without bitterness.

And when resentment tries to rise again, remind me that forgiveness is not weakness.

It is freedom.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

I declare I forgive quickly so my child doesn’t inherit my resentment, my wounds, or the battles God is still healing in me.

Where has resentment been shaping your response, and what would it look like to let God heal that place before it touches the people you love?