From Grief to Grace: Forgiving the One Who Took a Life

Today, we share the testimony of a woman who chose to forgive the man who caused the death of her aunt. It is a witness to the radical, countercultural heart of following Jesus: a faith that demands the impossible and then gives us the Spirit to walk it out.

In July 2019, I received a spiritual revelation: through the Holy Spirit, I was forewarned that I would lose an aunt, a casualty of a tragic car accident on the motorway. As a newly converted Christian, I was unacquainted with the notion that God might communicate in such a direct manner; especially concerning matters of death. Was it truly God speaking? Did I need to take any action in response? The only certainty I clung to from scripture was that if God declared something, it would inevitably come to pass. With that in mind, I tucked it away at the back of my mind, uncertain of what lay ahead.

Rebecca Reece

Six months later, I awoke early on a Sunday morning with an unshakeable sense that something was amiss. It was as if an invisible force had roused me from sleep, an instinctive unease settling over me.

I leapt out of bed and hurried to my parents’ room, my voice trembling as I asked, “What happened?” They looked at me with solemn faces and gently confirmed the devastating news: one of my aunts had died in a car accident. In that moment, the weight of the word I had received months earlier pressed heavily upon me. It felt like a scene from a film, where the world seems to slow and sound becomes muffled, as if I were submerged underwater. In that suspended moment, the weight of divine prophecy and its cruel fulfilment bore down on me, leaving me reeling and disoriented, as if I were watching it happen from afar. There was no fear; only the sober acknowledgment that it was indeed God, and that this had truly happened.

I quickly got dressed and made my way to my aunt’s house to offer what comfort I could to her grieving family. They were utterly devastated by how suddenly it all unfolded, a stark reminder of life’s fragility and how swiftly fate can shift in an instant.

It was there that I first learned some of the details of the accident. Her car had been struck from behind as she was preparing to exit a junction. Her husband had survived the crash, but tragically, she was killed instantly. At that time, we knew nothing about the other driver involved or their condition. The accident was now a police investigation, but in that moment, such details felt utterly insignificant compared to the grief and shock we were experiencing. The focus was simply on the loss, the suddenness of death, and the void left behind.

Due of the ongoing investigation, it was not possible for us to lay her to rest. The wait stretched on for three long months, during which we found ourselves clinging to one another for comfort. My uncle would recall some details about the accident, but generally, grief left no space to consider the other driver. Our focus was solely on mourning her absence; any other details felt distant and irrelevant.

One thing that deeply struck me during this time was a conversation with a woman from my aunt's church who came to share her condolences. She told us that just two days before my aunt passed, they had spoken, and my aunt had asked if the woman was ready to meet Jesus. I don’t remember exactly how the woman responded, but when she asked my aunt the same question, her face lit up. She smiled warmly and said emphatically, “I can’t wait to meet Him!” There was so much joy and anticipation in her words, a beautiful reflection of her faith.

My aunt became a Christian in her 40s, after enduring a difficult life marked by addiction, domestic and sexual abuse. Her journey of transformation and resilience was a testament to her courage and the healing power of Christ. Despite all she had endured, she found joy and strength in her faith, allowing her to rise above her past and embrace a new life filled with hope and grace. When she gave her life to Jesus, I witnessed a remarkable transformation; the beautiful person she became because of her faith. The first time I saw her after she was saved, I couldn’t believe it was the same person. She had been one way, and now she was entirely different. She went on to become a Bible scholar, pastor, and author of Christian books. She was truly a pillar of her community through her outreach work, embodying compassion and service in everything she did. What an incredible transformation!

Mary Oakey

One of the first decisions I remember making when I learned of the accident was that, regardless of what information might come out about the circumstances or the other driver, I would choose to forgive them. At any other time in my life, I might have been overwhelmed with rage, and the very idea of forgiveness would have seemed impossible. After all, a life had been taken. It didn’t seem fair or right to forgive someone who had caused such devastation. The effects of the accident rippled outward, especially impacting her children. The pain and loss they endured were profound, and even now, years later, some of them still struggle to heal from the grief and trauma. But I knew that forgiveness was a step toward peace, even amidst the heartbreak.

Strauss Western

Three months after the accident, we were finally able to lay my aunt to rest. The funeral brought a measure of closure, though the grief remained deep in our hearts. As the legal process moved forward, we received all the information about the car accident from the police, as they prepared for the trial. This was when we first learned about the other driver. Not only had he never held a driver’s license, but he also had a long history of driving offences accumulated over twenty years. Compounding the heartache was the revelation that he was banned from driving due to a previous DUI, at the time of the crash. Despite this, he had been drunk, high on cocaine, and driving at nearly 100 miles per hour when he struck my aunt's car. These facts only deepened the senseless nature of her loss, and my family was furious. As is often the case in these situations, he only sustained minor injuries from the crash. His actions felt so callous, showing a complete disregard for the lives he put at risk and the devastating consequences that followed.

Before my salvation, I was weighed down by an unshakeable inability to forgive. It mattered not whether the offence was minor or monumental; nothing could penetrate my resolve. I simply would not forgive, nor was I inclined to do so; instead, I harboured grudges with unwavering persistence. When I got saved, the Holy Spirit convicted me about this. I remember sitting down with a blank sheet of paper, determined to confront the weight I carried. I meticulously listed every person, place, and incident I had failed to forgive. As I examined each one, I reflected on the fairness of my feelings, my own role in the wounds, and posed the classic - if somewhat clichéd - question: What would Jesus do?

One by one, I extended forgiveness to each individual, taking responsibility where it was mine to bear. Once I began, I couldn’t stop. My heart hungered to live in the righteousness of Christ, to reflect His grace and holiness in my own life. That desire was stronger than any pull to hold on to unforgiveness. Forgiveness flowed naturally from that longing, a reflection of the life in Christ I sought to embody. Each reconciliation strengthened my confidence, emboldening me to reach out to the next person.

Two things stood out to me as I crossed names off the list. First, some of the individuals didn’t even remember the offence. This taught me a profound lesson about shame: how much of the burden we carry is often heavier in our own hearts than it ever is in the eyes of others. Second, nearly everyone - save for one person - received my apology with grace and warmth.

The experience fundamentally reshaped my perspective on forgiveness. I realised that asking for forgiveness is far less frightening than I had imagined; simply taking the step is right in Christ’s eyes, regardless of how it is received. I also came to understand that forgiveness does not always lead to reconciliation. Many of the people I apologised to were long-lost acquaintances, and our relationships were not rekindled afterwards. Yet through it all, I was deeply moved by how humility and kindness can open the door to grace and foster true spiritual freedom.

Before my salvation, I viewed forgiveness as a concession; almost as if forgiving someone meant yielding ground, endorsing their transgression, or sacrificing some part of myself. However, what became evident to me was that forgiveness was an incredibly powerful force. I came to understand a truth I had once heard: “Forgiveness is for you.” And indeed, it is. The act of forgiving and being forgiven was an unburdening of my soul, as though I had been carrying around a backpack full of bricks; each one representing a hurt, disillusionment, disappointment, grievance, or trauma. With each choice to forgive or ask for forgiveness, I unloaded a brick, until there were none left. It was a process of release, healing, and renewal that brought a sense of peace I had never known before. I was lighter, happier, and I could finally see others through God’s eyes, not through the filter of the hurt.

In choosing to forgive the man who took my aunt’s life, I began to see him more holistically, beyond just the terrible act he had committed. I remember once driving to my parents’ house the day after my vehicle’s tax had expired, intending to park it and officially declare it as SORN. My heart was in my throat the entire fifteen-minute drive, consumed by the knowledge I was breaking the law, doing something wrong, and the fear that I might be pulled over. The weight of even this wrongdoing felt immense; and it made me reflect on him. How had his life shaped him to repeatedly disregard the law? What kind of home did he grow up in, what lessons did he - or did he not - receive from caregivers, and what environments failed to set him on the right path? Considering these questions didn’t excuse his actions, nor diminish the devastation he caused, but it helped me begin to see him as a human being shaped by circumstances, choices, and influences far beyond the moment of his crime

When the trial began, I decided that I would not attend court. By that point, journalists had reported everything from the initial news of the accident, crashed her funeral to get pictures of all of us in our grief, and covered the details of the accident and driver for months. Every so often, I would glimpse photographs of us from her funeral in the local news whenever a new development arose in the case. Having already made the decision to forgive him, I saw little purpose in delving into the finer details. It wouldn’t change the outcome. Furthermore, forgiveness granted me a sense of resolution that many in my family had yet to find. Instead, I chose to pray for all those involved; my family members attending court, some of whom remained deeply angry. I also prayed for the driver who had taken my aunt’s life, beseeching that he might have en encounter with Jesus, and one day, come to know the love of Christ. I prayed for the healing of his heart too. It was evident from his communications to our family and demeanour in court that he was acutely aware of what he had done and was tortured by the weight of it. I did not wish that burden for him, just as I did not want my family to carry the weight of grief and anger.

Having studied numerous cases of this nature and familiarised myself with the legal sentencing guidelines through my AS Level law studies, I was neither surprised nor unsettled when he received a sentence of less than ten years. I felt at peace with both my decision to forgive and my respect for whatever the law deemed an appropriate sentence for him. For my family, the sentence was another blow. Understandably, it did not seem commensurate with the extent of the damage he had caused. The man had never served prison time for his previous offences, and his crimes had escalated over time, culminating in a death.

Since that day, I have served in addiction recovery programmes and developed a deep compassion for prison ministry. I am aware that while incarceration fails to ignite change for some, for others it can be transformative. I have heard testimonies from convicted murderers who have found Christ and gone on to guide fellow inmates toward Him, and numerous accounts of hardened criminals, including gang members, experiencing profound transformation through His grace. I am firmly convinced that no one is beyond redemption. It is possible to be firm on crime while remaining compassionate toward those who commit them; just as God treats us, despising sin, but His love for the sinner is unwavering.

A few years after the trial, I looked up the case online. I had never stopped thinking about or praying for him. More details about the proceedings had been published, and I was aware that he had expressed remorse for his actions. This time, I came across the statement made on his behalf by his solicitor in court. It was evident that he was sorry for what he had done, devastated by the pain he had caused, and had even wished he had died instead. The sincerity of his words struck me deeply. It made me feel sadness for him. I, too, understand what it is to carry deep shame and regret. I also know what it means to be forgiven for sins I once believed were unforgivable. If that same grace has been extended to me, then I am compelled to extend it to others; without conditions or caveats.

Even as Christians, our pain can sometimes make us think there are exceptions to the command to forgive. We may justify withholding forgiveness for seemingly simple reasons, such as vastly different political views, or for far more serious considerations, like the severity of an offence; particularly when it involves harm to children or the taking of a life. When tragedy or horror touches our own lives, our perspective often shifts, and extending the grace we know we should becomes much harder. In those moments of pain and heartbreak, we are confronted with our human limitations and challenged to fully trust in God’s justice and mercy.

But here’s the point: Jesus didn’t instruct us to forgive seventy times seven only when the offenses are minor. Even in cases of heinous acts, He calls us to forgive without limit. Of course, this process often takes time, and we can wrestle with it. I, too, struggled at first. I remember once thinking, ‘I’d rather go to hell than forgive this person.’ At the time, I was spiritually immature. Looking back, I feel uncomfortable and even ashamed that I once thought this way, but I will never forget the horror I felt the first time I heard another Christian utter those very words.

I harbour no desire for anyone to face hell. The moment I heard those words spoken, I was immediately transported back to the depths of my own pain when I had once uttered them myself. I remembered how profound that suffering was, and how stubborn the human heart can become when we don’t surrender those thoughts and emotions to God. It is in these moments of anguish that God’s grace sustains us, helping us to forgive and find healing.

Learning to forgive, even when it seems utterly impossible, is a journey. Not one of avoidance, but of actively wrestling with our pain, surrendering it to God, and leaning on His strength.

We often like to believe that forgiveness is a complicated matter, and we frequently tell ourselves, ‘God knows my heart,’ when we choose to act contrary to His call. Yet, I believe that the very fact He does know our hearts makes forgiveness all the more vital. He is aware of everything that has shaped our unforgiving spirits, and His grace extends to those struggles. But it also means He sees how much of our resistance is rooted in selfishness or self-preserving motives. He observes it all. What He continually waits for is an invitation; an opening into those hidden corners of our hearts, so He can guide us through the process of healing. It is in revealing these areas to Him that true transformation begins.

The stakes are high, Christian, and eternity is a long time. The question I must ask myself is this: do I want to cling to anger and pain, hold grudges, or wait until it passes—or do I want to be found in right standing with Him? We neither know when our time will run out, nor when Christ will return; so the time to choose forgiveness is always now. I must commit to the work of forgiveness, even when it feels daunting and counterintuitive. Prayer, dialogue with God, Scripture, and seeking His guidance made it possible to forgive when I thought I never could. Remarkably, from the moment I was saved to the moment I chose to forgive this man, it took just six months. Me! Someone who had never deliberately forgiven anyone before, someone who once declared, ‘I’d rather go to hell than forgive.’ It is a testament to what Christ can do when we invite Him into the deepest, darkest, most painful, shameful, and broken parts of our hearts, and when we approach the situation with unflinching honesty rather than merely saying what seems like the ‘Christian’ thing to say.

As I write this, I am reminded of the woman with the alabaster jar, Mary of Bethany, who poured costly and rare perfume on Jesus’ feet and wiped them with her hair (John 12:3). Judas questioned the wisdom of this act, arguing that the oil was expensive and could have been sold to aid the poor. Yet Jesus rebuked him, recognising that Mary had performed a beautiful, sacrificial act - unbeknownst to those around her, she was preparing Him for His burial.

This story reminds me that following Christ is inherently costly. It requires daily sacrifice, deliberate surrender, and obedience even when it feels difficult or counterintuitive. Forgiveness is no different. It is not optional, nor is it dependent on the perceived severity of an offense; it is expected of us, even in situations that stretch our hearts to the breaking point.

We often overlook the spiritual implications behind a single act of faith. Had I remained unwilling to forgive six months earlier, the loss of my aunt would have devastated me even more. Yet the Lord went ahead of me, preparing my heart and walking with me through every step of the journey. His grace and guidance transformed my pain into a path of healing. Finally, I would have missed out on the peace and joy that accompany forgiveness. I never realised that I could be freed from a burden I had unknowingly carried for so long, and in surrendering it, I found a liberation and a sense of wholeness I never thought possible.

I won’t deny that these struggles are difficult, nor will I claim that healing happens overnight. Yet there comes a moment when you must choose to move forward. I emphasise ‘choose’ because, ultimately, forgiveness is a decision. If Scripture tells us there is nothing new under the sun, then God has seen every state of the human condition and the depths of the human heart. He knows exactly how deep the pain runs, where it originates, and how to bring healing. But He awaits our invitation; sometimes in the form of a simple prayer like, ‘I know I should forgive, but I don’t want to.’ He can work with that honesty. You don’t have to remain in your Egypt, trapped in bondage and pain, or linger in your wilderness. Unforgiveness is a form of enslavement that keeps you distressed, burdened, and distant from the peace and relationship with Christ that you desire. Choosing forgiveness is choosing freedom.

When Jesus says, ‘Depart from me, I never knew you’ (Matthew 7:23), He is not speaking to unbelievers. In context, those addressed protest, ‘Lord, Lord,’ pointing to their great works in His name; prophesying, casting out demons, performing miracles. Yet Jesus warns that outward actions mean nothing without a heart fully surrendered to Him. This passage reminds us that genuine faith must be accompanied by obedience, and that includes obeying His call to forgive. Forgiveness is not optional for the disciple; it is an act of aligning our hearts with God’s will, even when it feels impossible. True discipleship is measured not by what we do for God alone, but by how we reflect His love and grace in our relationships. Choosing to forgive, even when it is hard, demonstrates a heart devoted to Him and a life shaped by His commands.

We are called to keep all of His commandments - not selectively, but completely - so that we may truly walk as He did, take up our cross, and follow Him with our whole hearts. Forgiveness, in particular, allows no exceptions. It is not optional, not negotiable; it is the heartbeat of discipleship, the living proof of God’s love flowing through us. To forgive is to surrender our hearts fully to Him, to mirror His mercy, and to step into the freedom He offers. Every one of us who claims the name of Jesus is called to this: forgive as you have been forgiven. Anything less is religion without life. Anything less denies the very blood that purchased our redemption.

 A closing prayer:

Heavenly Father,

We come to You today asking for Your help in learning to forgive.

Lord, we know forgiveness is not always easy, and yet You call us to forgive as we have been forgiven. Grant us the strength to release anger, hurt, and resentment into Your hands. Fill our hearts with Your love and mercy, so that we may extend it to others, even when it feels impossible. Guide us by Your Spirit, Lord, and show us the freedom, peace, and healing that come from obedience to Your Word. May Your grace work within us, enabling us to forgive fully and reflect Your character in all our relationships.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.