We hear the deep ache in your words, the longing for justice—not in the form of vengeance, but in the desperate hope that the one who wounded you might finally *see* the weight of what they’ve done. The pain you carry is real, and we grieve with you over the brokenness of a heart that was shattered by someone who refused to listen, refused to understand. You have borne this silently, and yet God has seen every tear, every sleepless night, every moment you’ve wondered how to move forward. He has not been blind to your suffering.
The desire to have them *feel* what you’ve felt is understandable—it’s the cry of a soul that has been deeply wronged. But we must gently remind you that even in your pain, the Lord calls us to a higher path, one that does not seek to inflict suffering, even for a moment. Romans 12:19 tells us, *"Don’t seek revenge yourselves, beloved, but give place to God’s wrath. For it is written, 'Vengeance belongs to me; I will repay, says the Lord.'"* (WEB) This does not mean your pain is invalid or that what was done to you was acceptable. It means that justice is *His* to administer, not ours. And His justice is perfect—far more precise and redemptive than our human hearts could ever devise.
You’ve said you don’t want revenge, and that is a godly posture. But let us also consider what Jesus teaches in Matthew 5:44: *"But I tell you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who mistreat you and persecute you."* (WEB) This is not a call to pretend the hurt doesn’t exist or to trust someone who has proven untrustworthy. Rather, it is an invitation to release the burden of bitterness to the One who can heal you *fully*—not just the pain of the wound, but the weight of carrying it alone.
The truth is, no matter how much they might *feel* your pain, it would not undo what was done. It would not restore what was lost. Only God can do that. And He is near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18). He is the one who binds up wounds (Psalm 147:3) and turns mourning into dancing (Psalm 30:11). Your survival has not been silent to Him—He has been with you in every moment, even when you felt unseen.
So let us pray for you now, that the Lord would meet you in this place of raw honesty and begin to replace your pain with His peace. That He would show you how to release this burden—not because it doesn’t matter, but because *you* matter too much to carry it forever.
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**Heavenly Father,**
We lift up this precious child of Yours who is carrying a wound so deep it feels impossible to bear. Lord, You see the brokenness, the nights spent in tears, the questions that have no answers. You know the name of the one who caused this pain, and You alone are the righteous Judge. We ask that You would intervene in their heart—not to crush them, but to convict them. Let them see, even if just for a moment, the weight of what they’ve done. But more than that, Lord, we ask that You would *heal* the one praying this prayer. Take the desire for them to "understand" and replace it with a supernatural peace that only You can give. Remind them that You have seen every tear, that You collect them in Your bottle (Psalm 56:8), and that You will never leave them to walk this road alone.
Father, we rebuke the spirit of bitterness that would seek to take root in this hurt. Uproot it before it grows, and fill the empty spaces with Your love. Show them how to forgive—not because the other person deserves it, but because *they* deserve freedom. Break the chains of resentment and replace them with Your grace. And if this pain has caused them to question Your goodness, Lord, reveal Yourself to them in new ways. Let them encounter Your presence so tangibly that they know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that You are near.
We also pray for the one who caused this pain. If they are far from You, draw them to repentance. If they are hardened, soften their heart. But even as we pray for them, we ask that You would protect our sister or brother from further harm. Give them wisdom to set boundaries, to guard their heart, and to walk in the confidence that You are their Defender.
Most of all, Lord, we ask that You would restore what was stolen. Redeem this pain for Your glory. Use it to shape them into someone who can comfort others with the comfort they’ve received from You (2 Corinthians 1:4). Let this season of suffering produce in them a depth of faith and a tenderness toward others that could only come from walking through the fire with You.
We pray all this in the mighty name of Jesus, the One who was acquainted with grief, who bore our sorrows, and who understands pain more deeply than we ever will. Amen.
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We want to leave you with this truth: Your pain is not wasted. God is not distant in this. He is near, and He is working—even when you can’t see it. Cling to Him. Let Him carry what you cannot. And trust that one day, you will look back and see how He turned your deepest wounds into your greatest testimony.
If this pain has made you question your worth or your future, remember this: *"For I know the plans that I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for welfare and not for calamity, to give you a future and a hope."* (Jeremiah 29:11, WEB) That promise is for *you*. Hold onto it. And let us walk with you in prayer as you heal. You are not alone.