You Know What You Did | Lifesigns Magazine

“You know what you did!”

Me: “I honestly have no clue what you are talking about, please tell me so we can get past this!”

My best friend of 54 years: “Oh no! You know what you did. I’m not going to tell you what you already know so you can twist my words around to make yourself sound like Miss Perfect!”

There are seasons in life when relationships are tested in ways we never anticipated. Even those closest to us—friends who have stood by our side for over half a century—can suddenly seem distant, hurt, or even hostile. Misunderstandings arise. Words are said. Silence lingers. And sometimes, the people we love most become strangers overnight.

For twenty-two months, I walked through such a trial with someone I’ve loved like family since third grade. She was the sister I never had. What began as a joyful annual reunion filled with plans and familiar traditions slowly unraveled into tension, miscommunication, and a silence I couldn’t seem to break through. No matter how many times I asked, “Please tell me how I’ve hurt you so we can heal,” the answer was the same: “You already know.” I didn’t know. I prayed, sought counsel, tried different approaches, but the wall remained. The more I tried to understand, the more things seemed to escalate.

Eventually, things came to a head. Harsh words were exchanged. Tempers flared. Before I knew it, the bond we’d built over half a century seemed irreparably shattered in a moment. In that moment of tension, I was deeply offended. I had done nothing intentionally to cause harm; but the hurt was real, and I couldn’t ignore it. The more I tried to understand, the more it seemed that the gap between us widened.

Instead of holding on to bitterness or defending myself, I was reminded of a core principle of our faith: Jesus teaches us in Matthew 18:21-22 that forgiveness isn’t about keeping score. Peter asks Jesus, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus responds to him, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven.” This isn’t about counting offenses. It’s about continually choosing love over anger, grace over grudges, patience over pride. But, even this was a challenge.

In the aftermath, I felt everything: anger, heartbreak, confusion, and regret. Over the twenty-two months my emotional pendulum would swing from, “That’s it! Time’s up for her to be civil! I’m done,” to, “Surely this cannot be the end of our cherished friendship?” More than anything, I felt the Lord urging me to stay soft, to hold on to love, believing in redemption even when it seemed impossible.

I realized that I had to let go of my need to be right, my hurt, and my desire for an apology. But even in letting go, I struggled. Pride reared its ugly head. So much for really praying “not my will, but thy will be done.” I wanted the pain to go away right then! However, that was not what the Lord was asking of me. He was teaching me patience. In my patience I was a witness to how you reconcile with someone who won’t acknowledge their part or even speak to you for that matter. This is where the Lord’s grace becomes crucial.

I had sent her birthday cards and “Likes” on Facebook to no avail. Finally, I sent her the following in a card just before Thanksgiving:

In one of my devotions the other week it talked about “Working the System”. Genesis 33:3b - “Jacob went on bowing himself to the ground seven times, until he came near his brother Esau.”

Maybe you might remember Jacob & Esau were twin brothers of Isaac (Abraham’s son). Esau was the 1st born and should have gotten their father’s blessing & birthright. However, Jacob tricked their father and stole Esau’s birthright. The above passage is when Jacob comes to his brother after having wrestled with God in a dream, where God basically says that it was His will for Jacob to get the blessing, because Jesus will come through his line. This is where Jacob is trying to reconcile with his brother, who has been hunting him down to kill him.

The devotion basically says that sometimes you need to meet someone at their expected meeting place. For Jacob, it was bowing and paying honor to his brother Esau.

Perhaps you have an expectation that must be met before our friendship can move forward. I must admit where I have contributed to the rut.

In that moment, I had to do the same. I had to choose humility, not to prove I was right but to bring healing. I wrote her not as a defense of my actions but as a way of confessing my own flaws, asking for forgiveness for anything I may have done to contribute to the hurt. I knew that reconciliation might take time and that forgiveness may not come immediately, but I trusted that God could work in the heart of my friend and in my own heart.

A few days later, I received the apology I had prayed for. It wasn’t immediate, but God had worked in both of us. It was a reminder that, as Christians, we are called to forgive even when it’s hard. We are called to extend grace even when we feel justified in our anger. And we are called to trust that God is at work in our lives and the lives of those we love, even when we can’t see it.

If you find yourself offended, I encourage you to ask the Lord to help you choose grace over offense, humility over pride, and peace over division. Remember that forgiveness isn’t just for the one who has wronged you; it’s for your own heart, that you might experience the freedom of releasing the hurt to God.

Today, we’re good. Although she never shared with me what offended her so greatly, I’m thankful. There are the mysteries of God and, I suppose, the mysteries of people. Sometimes we must be thankful just for the olive branch and the moment it is given. May we all remember that when we are offended, we have a choice; and we have a Savior who understands the pain of being wronged, yet He chose to forgive us all. Let us walk in that same grace.

“Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” (Ephesians 4:32)