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Ephesians 4:31–32 — “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.”

Think

Valentine’s Day is usually about cards, flowers, and heart-shaped reminders of love. But love, real love, runs much deeper than red roses and dinner reservations. It lives in the trenches. It shows up where things are complicated. It pushes through places most people avoid. And sometimes, love looks like forgiveness.

That’s why today, of all days, might be the right moment to talk about letting go.

When God commands us to honor our father and mother, he knows he’s speaking into a messy world. Not every family story is full of warmth. Some of us carry deep scars. Some of us have been abandoned, manipulated, or ignored. Others were raised by parents who meant well but left wounds all the same. In a broken world, parental pain is more common than we often admit.

So what does honor look like when your history with your parents is marked by disappointment or damage? It starts with this: you can’t truly honor if your heart is still held hostage by resentment.

Paul’s words in Ephesians are simple, but they cut deep. “Get rid of all bitterness… forgive each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” Bitterness doesn’t always show up as yelling or distance. Sometimes it hides behind sarcasm, silent treatment, avoidance, or numbness. But however it presents itself, bitterness binds the heart. It doesn’t just affect your relationship with your parents—it spills into your friendships, your marriage, your parenting, even your connection with God.

Unforgiveness gives the enemy real estate in your soul. That’s why Scripture calls us to release it. Not because what happened wasn’t real. Not because you’re supposed to forget. But because holding on will slowly break you down from the inside out.

Letting go does not mean pretending it didn’t hurt. It means choosing to stop carrying it.

It’s like holding a heavy rock. Maybe you picked it up a long time ago. You’ve adjusted to the weight. You’ve learned how to function with it in your hands. But it’s exhausting. Even if you don’t notice it every day, it’s limiting what you can reach for. Forgiveness is setting the rock down. Not because it wasn’t heavy. But because you’re finally ready to be free.

Jesus modeled this kind of love perfectly. On the cross, surrounded by betrayal and injustice, he looked at the people who hurt him and said, “Father, forgive them.” He didn’t wait for them to apologize. He didn’t demand an explanation. He forgave in the face of the worst kind of wrong.

If he could do that, then in his strength, we can take a step toward forgiveness too.

This doesn’t mean every relationship is restored. Forgiveness and reconciliation are not the same. Forgiveness is a one-person decision. Reconciliation takes two willing hearts. Sometimes that’s possible. Sometimes it’s not. But your ability to honor God is not limited by someone else’s response. You can forgive, release, and honor even if the other person never changes.

Forgiveness is also not about minimizing the offense. It’s not saying, “It wasn’t that bad.” It’s saying, “It was bad. But I’m choosing not to let it define my future.” It’s letting God carry the justice. It’s trusting that healing is possible, even when closure is not.

For many, this process doesn’t happen in a moment. It’s more like peeling layers. You forgive what you know, and as more surfaces, you bring that to God too. It’s a journey. One that may require help from trusted friends, wise counselors, or spiritual mentors. But every step toward forgiveness is a step toward freedom.

Some of us also need to forgive ourselves. Maybe we weren’t the kind of son or daughter we wanted to be. Maybe we said things we regret. Maybe we walked away when we could have leaned in. There’s grace for that too. You are not beyond redemption. Jesus doesn’t just forgive the things done to you—he forgives the things done by you.

Let love meet you in that place. Let the mercy of God wash over the guilt, the regret, the silence. Let this command to honor your parents become not a weight you carry, but a window into grace. You are not called to perform your way into God’s approval. You are called to reflect the love he has already poured out. And love always starts with release.

Today, on a day when love is on display everywhere else, choose the deeper kind. The kind that remembers, forgives, and moves forward. The kind that doesn’t wait for flowers or apologies. The kind that lives like Jesus. Love that forgives is the kind that truly honors.

Apply

Take some time today to reflect on any resentment or pain you’re still carrying. Write it down if it helps. Then pray through it, asking God to help you begin the process of forgiveness. You might not be ready to fully release everything today, but you can take a step. You can open your hands. You can invite God in.

Pray

God, I confess that I’ve held on to hurt. Some wounds go deep. But I don’t want bitterness to have the final say. Teach me how to forgive. Not just with words, but with my heart. Help me release what I was never meant to carry. Let your love heal the places that still ache. I want to honor you with a heart that’s free. In Jesus’ name. Amen.