There was no need for judgment. No trial, no deliberations required. The facts were clear. Through deception and self-interest, Joe had violated Debbie in the worst way, and what he had stolen could never be given back. Joe knew it, Debbie knew it, and God knew it. And worst of all, Joe couldn't care less about it.

But now what? Ironically, Joe's life was now in Debbie's hands. In the eyes of both God and man, Joe had trampled on Debbie's rights, and there needed to be an accounting. He may not realize it, but Joe will reap what he sowed. How that reaping is played out depends on what Debbie decides to do.

She considers her options: murder; maiming; slander; lawsuit . . . . From some unknown quarter a radical thought comes to her mind: forgiveness. The notion startled her at first: "Forgive? After what he did? Ridiculous! I'm no shrinking Pollyanna. He's not getting away with this."

To forgive those who have trespassed against us would seem a ridiculous thought—unless you understand the true nature of forgiveness in God's economy.

What is true forgiveness?

First and foremost, forgiveness is a uniquely God-like action. Are you interested in becoming like Jesus? Then get used to forgiving others. Forgiveness is a merciful response to someone who has wronged us; it's graciously canceling a debt we're owed; it's refraining from rightful retribution. It's deciding to respond to wrongdoing by doing good, rather than to demand the justice that is actually deserved. These are precisely God's actions toward us—and when we forgive, we look a lot like Him. As the apostle Paul tells us, ". . . Forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you" (Ephesians 4:32).

But many are confused by caricatures of forgiveness. To get a handle on what forgiveness is, it helps to know what it isn't.

Forgiveness isn't . . .

Forgetting. Deep hurts can rarely be wiped out of one's memory. Equating forgiving with forgetting turns it into a cheap avoidance of justice, a plastering over of wrong, a weak counterfeit of the real thing. Pretending the wrong never happened won't rescue a person from the ongoing effects of the wrong. It's like a fireman fighting the flames by imagining they never started; denying their existence allows them to grow.

Reconciliation. We always hope that forgiveness will lead to reconciliation, but that takes two people—and you can't control what happens on the other side of the ledger. Forgiveness is something that takes place in the mind and heart of the injured party and doesn't depend on the injurer at all. You can forgive someone without them even knowing it. They may not even agree with your assessment that they need forgiveness. You can still forgive. As Jesus prayed from the Cross, "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do."

Agreeing with your abuser. People often think, "If I don't take the opportunity to even the score, I'm letting them get away with their abuse." Usually, at the base of bitterness and an unforgiving spirit is trauma of some sort—when someone treats us with disrespect and minimizes our value and worth. Strangely, we sometimes become confused and think, "Maybe they're right—maybe I don't deserve respect." So, rather than believing God's assessment of our value—we are made in His image, and are worth so much Christ died for us—we end up believing our abuser's assessment! But this produces conflict and rage in our minds, because another part of us thinks, "How can he say that! I do have value . . . at least, I thought I did . . ." And we spiral downward into despair and bitterness.

To forgive my abuser is to agree with God's empowering assessment. Forgiveness isn't a sign that my abuser has won, it's a sign that I've finally figured out that he's wrong, and he can't hold me hostage anymore.

Dismissing. Forgiveness involves taking the offense seriously, not passing it off as inconsequential or insignificant, as in "Oh, I guess it wasn't really such a big deal." When God forgave—and when we forgive—it's not a simple dismissal of all charges. It's an expensive transaction that costs the forgiver far more than the one being forgiven. But of course, the forgiver reaps the greater benefit in the end.

Justice. Forgiving an abuser is not "just." Justice involves reciprocity of some kind. But forgiveness is an unconditional gift given to somebody who does not deserve it. That's not just—that's what we call "love."

Emotion. To forgive is an act of the will. A loss of anxiety and a gaining of peace and joy may or may not be immediate products of forgiveness. Over time, most people will experience these emotions, but it's not automatic.

Debbie faced a paradox. Everything within her seethed for justice and retribution. "What he did was wrong, and he should pay for it!" But the side of her that was sensitive to the Holy Spirit was hesitant. "Where does forgiveness come in here?"

I can imagine the conversation that could have occurred between Debbie and God:

"He sinned against you, didn't he, Debbie?" God asked gently.

"Yes! He hurt me terribly. And it still hurts . . . ."

"I know. He sinned against Me too. Something must be done."

"Absolutely. What do You have in mind?"

God spoke sternly: "I have established civil laws that will punish him. And there will also be an absolute accounting before Me when he dies. You are in a very superior position here, Debbie. You are the victim, he is the perpetrator—he owes you. Cut and dried. You are entitled to justice."

Then His voice softened, and Debbie could hear a little smile in His tones: "But in My kingdom, we do things differently. You can take matters into your own hands if you want—it's your right—but how would you like it if I took care of it for you?"

"What do you mean by that?" Debbie asked, her confusion deepening.

"If you'll step aside and give up your right to retaliation, I'll take care of both you and your abuser perfectly. Vengeance is Mine; I will repay. But I'll do it in a way that will free you of your bitterness, bring Joe to justice, and move both of you closer to My righteousness. What do you say?"

"You mean I don't press charges? He doesn't get punished?"

"I didn't say that. In this case, that will probably be part of My stategy. But would you let Me lead? Trust Me with this."

By my unforgiveness, I can sometimes bind someone to the very conditions I'd like to see changed. But when I give up my rights, and release them from my judgment, it clears the way for God to work in miraculous ways.

The apostle Stephen's final words probably echoed in a certain young man's ears as he held the coats of the executioners: "Lord, lay not this sin to their charge!" And so it was that Stephen's gracious release of his rights against his murderers made it possible for heaven to go into action for Saul of Tarsus. Shortly after this, as Saul was traveling to Damascus to persecute more Christians, heaven opened up, and Jesus Christ Himself dealt directly with Saul. There was condemnation, pain, guilt and torment. But in the end, God turned Saul of Tarsus, Christian killer, into the apostle Paul, greatest missionary for Christ in history.

When we forgive, it breaks the cycle of abuse and retaliation. It doesn't condone the wrong, it contains it, and keeps it from growing and afflicting more people. It's like fighting fire with water, instead of with more fire.

God's Spirit was already working on Debbie's heart. The root of bitterness that had been growing in her soul began to shrivel. "OK, God," she prayed. "I want heaven to go into action for Joe. I set him loose from my judgment, and I ask that you take over from here—in Joe's life, and in mine."

Chris Adsit, a 25-year Campus Crusade staff member, directs the DiscipleMakers International ministry. Chris and his wife, Rahnella, live in Eugene, Ore., with their four children.