No record kept—none

No record kept—none If she wanted to, my wife Laurel could write a book on all the things I’ve done wrong in our marriage. She’s had a front-row seat to every failing I’ve ever had as a husband. She was there when I lost my patience, when my words were wrong, when I got angry for no reason, and when I used her as a target instead of a best friend. I am so grateful that Laurel has the maturity not to have kept a ledger of all the things I’ve done to disappoint her as a husband. When she lays down that book, she’s living out the truth of Scripture: “Love keeps no record of wrongs.” (1 Corinthians 13:5) Real love doesn’t keep score. It doesn’t build ledgers of offense or store receipts from moments of past pain. Instead, love chooses to forgive. And forgiveness is one of love’s hardest and holiest opportunities to work. When we cling to bitterness, we chain ourselves to the past. But forgiveness opens the door to freedom—not only for the one forgiven, but also for the one doing the forgiving. It doesn’t mean what happened was okay. It simply means we’ve placed the judgment in God’s hands instead of holding it in our own. Jesus demonstrated this perfectly from the cross when He said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34, NIV) That, my friend, is love stripped of resentment, filled with mercy, and anchored in an eternal love that will last forever. So, in this moment right now, think of a person or a wound that still echoes in the dark chambers of your heart. Ask God for the courage to do the loving thing and forgive—even if it’s just a whispered prayer of, “Father, forgive them.” Father God, You’ve forgiven me beyond measure, so teach me to forgive as You have forgiven. Help me release the wrongs I’ve held onto and walk in the freedom of Your love. May Your love today—not bitterness—shape my memories and my heart. In Jesus’ name, amen. Never forget, my friend—you are a miracle. Your friend, Grant Fishbook