Dear Mama: God’s Not Done With Your StorySample

The Courtroom Where Grace Spoke Louder

Dear Mama,

What do you do when the person you’re praying for doesn’t get healed? When the story doesn’t end in reunion, but in heartbreak?

There’s a mama whose story I’ll never forget. Her son died from an overdose, and not just by accident—his death involved another person’s choice, another person’s mistake, another person’s sin.

And yet, she stood in a courtroom, face to face with the one who contributed to her loss… and she chose forgiveness.

That’s not natural. That’s supernatural.

She didn’t excuse what happened. She didn’t ignore the pain. But she decided not to let bitterness be the final word. Instead, she chose grace. And when she did, something powerful happened in that courtroom. The air shifted. Heaven touched earth.

That’s what happens when a mama decides that grace speaks louder than grief.

Maybe you’ve never sat in a courtroom like she did, but maybe you know that kind of pain—the kind that changes everything. Maybe you've been hurt deeply. Maybe someone made a decision that shattered your family. Or maybe the person you need to forgive… is yourself.

Mama, I want to tell you something that might feel impossible right now: Forgiveness isn’t saying it didn’t hurt—it’s saying the hurt won’t win.

Jesus didn’t ask us to forgive because it’s easy—He asked us to forgive because it’s freeing. Not just for them but for us.

In Matthew 5:44, Jesus said, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” That’s a hard verse to swallow—until you realize that loving like that doesn’t come from willpower. It comes from Him.

Forgiveness is not weakness. It’s strength. It’s warfare. It’s breaking the cycle and saying, “This ends here.”

The mama in this story didn’t just forgive—she went on to help others find freedom through recovery. Her pain didn’t just sit there; God turned it into purpose.

That’s what He does, isn’t it?

Isaiah 61 says He gives beauty for ashes and joy instead of mourning. That’s not poetic fluff—it’s a promise. If you bring Him the ashes of your heartbreak, He’ll shape them into something you never imagined.

Maybe today, that looks like whispering, “God, I want to forgive, but I don’t know how.” Maybe it means letting go of something you've carried too long. Or maybe it’s realizing for the first time that you are already forgiven, and it’s okay to stop punishing yourself.

Reflection:

1. Is there someone you’ve struggled to forgive—even yourself? What might it look like to take a step toward release today?
2. What would happen if you asked God to help you let go of the bitterness or pain you’ve been carrying?
3. How might God use your story—even the painful parts—to bring healing to someone else?

Prayer:
God, I don’t have the strength to forgive on my own. The pain is real, and the loss is deep. But I don’t want to live bitter—I want to live free. Teach me what it means to forgive the way You forgive. Heal the wounds that still ache. Show me how to turn this pain into purpose. And thank You for forgiving me, even when I didn’t deserve it. In Jesus’ name, Amen.