Love is forgiving and Love is for giving.

If you are easily offended it proves one thing: You don't have a relationship with the Comforter, because He can kiss you and it will disappear. You can give that to the Lord. You have no right to be wounded; you have a right to be healed. You don't have a right to be offended; you have a right to be compassionate and forgiving. Exercise that right!

My concern is, How do we deal with evil without becoming it? If we aren't careful, our "justice" can be as bad as the crime itself. Yet

we now are invited to extend that same grace to others. We are to be like God and forgive. We are to see people who do evil with the possibility that they can be healed. And we are to extend to them the same grace God extends to us. We are all victims of the crushing power of sin, and all in need of liberation.

Grace makes room for redemption. Grace offers us a vision for justice that is restorative, and dedicated to healing the wounds of injustice. But

I don't think a man can hurt another, not in any important way. Neither hurt him nor help him. I have really nothing to forgive you.

You can't be hard on a man who needs you, it will prey on your conscience for the rest of your life." "It won't." "You've got to be kind, Henry." "I'm not." "You've got to have some pity." "I haven't." "A good man knows how to forgive." "I don't." "You wouldn't want me to think that you're selfish." "I am.

Do you expect me to forget what you are?" he asked, knowing that this was what he had forgotten. "I do not expect you to think of me at all.

This was not the time for his old doubts. He felt that he could forgive anything to anyone, because happiness was the greatest agent of purification. He felt certain that every living being wished him well tonight

Shoes would interfere with her conversation, for she constantly addresses the ground under her feet. Asking forgiveness. Owning, disowning, recanting, recharting a hateful course of events to make sense of her complicity. We all are, I suppose. Trying to invent our version of the story. All human odes are essentially one, My life; what I stole from history, and how I live with it.

There is not justice in this world. Father, forgive me wherever you are, but this world has brought one vile abomination after another down on the heads of the gentle, and I'll not live to see the meek inherit anything.

Most families would sooner forgive you for going to prison than for moving out of Lee County.