How Could I Preach Grace? A Journey of Forgiveness and Restoration

What Jesus Would Say About Forgiving Your Enemy — And Why Restoration Matters

One of the most difficult teachings Jesus ever gave was not about prayer, worship, generosity, or service. It was about forgiveness.

Jesus said:

"Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you" (Matthew 5:44).

Those words are inspiring when they remain theoretical. They become much harder when the enemy is not a stranger, but someone you deeply love. They become harder when the wound is personal, intimate, and life-altering. They become harder when betrayal enters your home and threatens everything you have built.

There came a moment in my own life when I had to decide whether I truly believed what I had spent years preaching.

My wife's infidelity shattered much of what I thought was secure. The pain was real. The anger was real. The disappointment was real. Every human instinct within me wanted to protect myself, retreat, and allow the broken pieces to remain broken.

Yet in the midst of that suffering, I found myself confronted by the words of Jesus.

How could I preach forgiveness if I refused to forgive?

How could I proclaim reconciliation if I was unwilling to pursue it?

How could I preach about the cross if I was unwilling to bear my own?

The reality is that forgiveness is not merely something Christians talk about. It is something Christians are called to live.

Jesus never suggested that forgiveness would be easy. In fact, He understood better than anyone the cost of forgiveness. As He hung upon the cross, betrayed by friends, abandoned by disciples, mocked by crowds, and crucified by soldiers, He prayed:

"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34).

Those words remind us that forgiveness is often most powerful when it is least deserved.

For me, forgiveness was not simply about releasing anger. It was about deciding whether I believed redemption was possible.

Many people can understand forgiveness. Fewer understand restoration.

Forgiveness says, "I release my right to revenge."

Restoration says, "I believe God can create something new from what has been broken."

Restoration does not always happen. There are situations where trust cannot be rebuilt or where reconciliation is impossible. Scripture never asks us to ignore wisdom, accountability, or truth.

But in our story, God opened a path toward restoration.

That journey was not easy. Trust had to be rebuilt. Conversations had to be had. Tears had to be shed. Grace had to be extended repeatedly. Healing took time.

Yet I came to realize that our marriage was no longer just about us.

It was about our children.

It was about our grandchildren.

It was about the witness of our family.

Every family leaves a legacy. The question is what kind of legacy we leave.

I wanted my children to know that love is more than emotion. It is commitment.

I wanted them to understand that marriage is not sustained because two people never fail. Marriage survives because grace is greater than failure.

I wanted my grandchildren to see that when brokenness enters a family, redemption is still possible.

Most of all, I wanted them to see that the Gospel is not merely a message we preach on Sunday. It is a truth we live on Monday.

The central message of Christianity is not perfection.

It is redemption.

The Bible is filled with stories of broken people being restored. Abraham failed. Moses failed. David failed. Peter failed. Yet God continued writing their stories.

Why would we believe God can redeem sinners but doubt His ability to redeem relationships?

The cross itself is God's declaration that broken things can live again.

When Jesus emerged from the tomb, He demonstrated that death never has the final word. The same principle applies to marriages, families, friendships, and lives. What appears dead can be resurrected by the grace of God.

That does not mean pretending the hurt never happened. It means refusing to allow the hurt to define the future.

Looking back now, I often think about what would have happened if I had chosen bitterness instead of forgiveness.

What would my children have learned?

What would my grandchildren have inherited?

What kind of Gospel witness would I have carried into the pulpit?

The truth is that every sermon I have preached about grace, mercy, forgiveness, and redemption would have rung hollow if I had refused to practice those same truths in my own life.

I am not saying that my forgiveness saved my marriage.

I am saying that Christ's forgiveness saved me.

And because Christ forgave me, I found the strength to forgive another.

The Gospel always moves in that direction. We forgive because we have been forgiven. We show mercy because mercy has been shown to us. We extend grace because grace has first been extended to us.

Jesus would remind us today that forgiveness is not weakness.

It is strength.

It is not surrender.

It is faith.

It is not forgetting.

It is trusting God with the pain.

And when forgiveness opens the door to restoration, it becomes one of the most powerful testimonies of the Gospel the world can ever see.

In the end, my decision to forgive was not simply about preserving a marriage. It was about honoring Christ. It was about bearing witness to the power of redemption. It was about showing my children and grandchildren that God's grace is not just a theological idea—it is a living reality.

For if God can redeem a cross, He can redeem a marriage.

If God can raise the dead, He can restore what is broken.

And if Jesus has forgiven me, how could I do anything less than forgive others?