Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us
Each Sunday at Lighthouse, after we’ve prayed for the kingdom to come,
after we’ve asked for daily bread,
we come to this line —
a prayer for forgiveness.
Forgive us our sins — prayed by those who know sin all too well.
At Lighthouse, sin is not just a theological concept,
it’s lived experience.
We know the wrong we’ve done —
the lies told, the trust betrayed, the promises broken.
We know the weight of regret,
the ache of shame,
the self-hatred that gnaws away at the soul.
Guilt and shame can be useful — they can wake us up to the truth,
help us see the damage we’ve caused,
remind us we need to change.
They can be good servants.
But they are terrible masters.
Under their rule, we are locked in a prison without keys,
chained to a past we cannot undo,
believing the lie that we are beyond love.
But here, in this prayer,
forgiveness is not just a hope —
it’s a reality offered to us by grace.
Forgive us our sins.
Not hide them.
Not pretend they don’t exist.
Not beat ourselves up forever.
But bring them into the light —
and hear words of pardon spoken over us.
At Lighthouse, we need this forgiveness like we need air.
Not just once — but again and again.
For our story is messy, and the journey is long.
We stumble, we fall, we relapse, we run —
and yet the Father stands with open arms,
again and again.
Forgive us our sins, we pray.
And then — Jesus turns the prayer around.
As we forgive those who sin against us.
This is the hard bit.
Because many who pray this prayer at Lighthouse
carry wounds inflicted by others.
Violence.
Abuse.
Neglect.
Betrayal.
Some of us carry shame and guilt that doesn’t belong to us at all —
a burden placed on our shoulders by the violence of others,
by the words of abusers,
by the silence of those who should have protected us.
We walk through life believing it was our fault —
when it never was.
We look to Christ for healing, for he is our hope.
We look to Christ for courage to see the truth and move towards freedom in his compassionate kingdom.
Forgiveness doesn’t come cheap.
It can feel impossible.
And yet, in the upside-down kingdom,
we are invited into a freedom
that doesn’t let bitterness hold us captive.
To forgive is not to say it didn’t matter.
It’s not to let abusers off the hook.
It’s not to pretend it didn’t hurt.
It’s to refuse to be chained to the past.
It’s to place justice in God’s hands —
and to walk into a future where the heart can breathe again.
We forgive — not because we are strong,
but because we are forgiven.
And the mercy shown to us overflows
into mercy shown to others.
And so at Lighthouse we pray this prayer
in honesty and in hope:
Forgive us our sins,
as we forgive those who sin against us.
Because forgiveness is the heartbeat of the kingdom.
Forgiveness that frees us from our past.
Forgiveness that breaks cycles of violence.
Forgiveness that opens the door to healing.
Forgiveness that declares:
This is not the end of the story.
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A Prayer from Lighthouse
Merciful God,
who knows the depths of our hearts
and sees the mess we’ve made of things,
speak your words of forgiveness over us.
Forgive us our sins —
the ones we can’t forget
and the ones we try to hide.
Wash us clean,
lift the weight from our shoulders,
and help us walk in the freedom of your grace.
When guilt and shame threaten to be our masters,
remind us they are only servants —
that your mercy has the final word.
And for the wounds inflicted by others,
for the shame we never deserved,
for the guilt we wrongly carried,
lift these burdens too.
Show us that your heart breaks for what was done to us,
and that your justice will not forget.
And when forgiveness feels impossible,
when the pain is still too raw,
breathe your Spirit into our hearts —
that we may know your mercy so deeply
that it overflows into mercy for others.
In the name of Jesus,
who on the cross forgave us all.
Amen.
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