When You Can’t Forgive Yourself After an Abortion

Every time I share my abortion story, people reach out to share theirs, often echoing a similar refrain: “I know God has forgiven me, but I just can’t forgive myself.”

There’s an easy theological answer here: You don’t have to. The Bible offers neither an example nor a category for self-forgiveness. Asserting we must forgive ourselves places us in God’s seat—he’s the One against whom we’ve sinned and the only One able to grant forgiveness (Ps. 51:4; Rom. 8:33).

But that theological answer, rich and true as it may be, feels like a platitude to a woman grappling with the aftermath of an abortion. Justin Taylor points to the pastoral dimension of the self-forgiveness issue: “Before responding to someone who says he can’t forgive himself, it’d be wise first to discern what the person means by this phrase.”

The sin of abortion has some unique dimensions that masquerade as the haunting desire for self-forgiveness, and understanding them might help us come alongside struggling women.

1. Abortion is a distinct self-violation.

All sin is a self-violation. God’s law reveals his character and shows us the path of righteousness, which ultimately leads to human flourishing. When we sin against God, we also harm ourselves. And some sin causes more damage than others. The apostle Paul illustrates this point when he describes the specific harm of sexual immorality: “Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body” (1 Cor. 6:18).

Other sins may fall into this category of sins against the body—eating disorders and self-harm, perhaps, but especially abortion. Women are created in God’s image to be “life-givers,” a label Susan Hunt applies to women’s unique “redemptive calling” that extends to “every relationship and circumstance.” Though this means far more than having babies, to take the life of your unborn child is undoubtedly an assault on this life-giving nature. Abortion is a sin with many victims, one of which is a woman’s own body.

Further, some women choose abortion in ignorance, believing lies about when human life begins. Others are truly victims, succumbing to coerced abortions under the guidance of people who should have protected them. But I and many others knew abortion is sinful and wrong—and we did it anyway. Our sin is ultimately against the Lord and his holy law. But in some sense, we’ve also sinned against ourselves by violating our consciences (Rom. 14:23).

A woman who thinks she can’t forgive herself may be reckoning with the reality that sin has fractured her wholeness. In betraying her conscience and sinning against her body, she has violated her own trust, wreaking havoc on body and soul. What she needs, however, isn’t self-forgiveness but the transforming work of Christ by his Spirit. Christ has freed us from sin’s guilt, but its power lingers as we struggle against both persistent temptation and also the damage caused by our past sins. We tend to think of sanctification in terms of sinning less, but the Spirit’s transforming work is also about making us whole.

2. Abortion is sin but also trauma.

Our desire for self-forgiveness often has more to do with sin’s residual effects. If I’ve embraced God’s forgiveness but I’m still struggling, we think, that must mean I need to forgive myself. We hope overcoming this hurdle will finally make the shame go away. But while abortion is sin that requires repentance, it’s also trauma that requires healing.

I’ve written more about this elsewhere: Forgiveness comes quickly as we look to Christ by faith, but healing takes time. Labeling this as the need to forgive ourselves betrays a desire to circumvent the healing process—and to control it. We’re looking for a quick fix rather than the difficult path of walking through our pain and suffering with Jesus and in community with others.

Forgiveness comes quickly as we look to Christ by faith, but healing takes time.

A woman who says she can’t forgive herself may also be stuck believing she doesn’t deserve Christ’s healing. Her sin is too great, and she deserves to wallow in its shame for the rest of her life. Consider the bleeding woman whose shame kept her from asking Jesus to be healed (Mark 5:24–34). Instead, she crept up behind him, hoping only to catch the corner of his robe. But Jesus doesn’t allow her to slink away into the shadows. He heals her, but he also sees her, restoring her dignity and affirming her value.

Post-abortive women don’t need self-forgiveness; we need healing. And no sin is so great that it puts us out of reach of Christ’s healing wounds (Isa. 53:5) and word (Ps. 107:20).

3. Abortion’s victims can’t extend forgiveness.

Several years ago, I attended a retreat for post-abortive men and women. The few days I spent tucked away in the woods with a group of strangers were both sweet and odd.

With a schedule crafted to facilitate a fast-tracked experience of forgiveness and healing, group leaders led us through various exercises meant to unleash the shame and sorrow we’d hidden for years. One stands out in my memory. The speaker uncovered a table filled with teddy bears wrapped in handmade blankets. There was one bear each, and we were to spend the afternoon with the one we chose—to talk to it, hug it, and name it. Though the speaker was clear that this wasn’t some reincarnation of our aborted baby, the exercise nonetheless provided an outlet for many participants to unleash years of pent-up grief as they held in their hands a symbol of what they’d forfeited.

There may be a place for these retreats, though I’ve found my own healing to come in fits and starts through the ordinary ministry of Word and sacrament, the faithful love of my husband and church community, and the help of a good therapist. But I think this exercise exposes another aspect of our self-forgiveness pursuit.

“There are two—and only two—biblical categories of forgiveness,” John Beeson writes. “Others’ forgiveness and God’s forgiveness. Horizontal and vertical. . . . It’s not enough to ask forgiveness from God; we must also ask forgiveness from those we’ve injured.” How is a post-abortive woman supposed to seek this forgiveness? In the absence of a living victim, she turns inward. It’s as if the baby she aborted has become a part of herself, and she’s pleading to be absolved.

King David had blood on his hands, and yet he declared to the Lord, “Against you, you only, have I sinned” (Ps. 51:4). God would be justified in bringing judgment, but instead he justifies us, declaring us righteous in his Son (Ps. 51:4; Rom. 8:33). Sometimes, horizontal forgiveness isn’t possible, but the absolution we seek is. It’s just not found within us.

The Answer You Seek Is Outside of You

The Protestant reformer Philip Melanchthon often wrote to Martin Luther about his struggles to believe the gospel. “I woke this morning wondering if I trust Christ enough,” he wrote in one letter. Exasperated, Luther responded, “Melanchthon! Go sin bravely! Then go to the cross and bravely confess it! The whole gospel is outside of us.” Rod Rosenbladt tells this story to illustrate the “alien nature of the gospel”—“Christ’s death was outside of me and for me.” He writes, “Luther’s frustrated counsel was not an invitation to serve sin, but an attempt to shock Melanchthon into realizing that his only true righteousness was external to him.”

No sin is so great that it puts us out of reach of Christ’s healing wounds and word.

Perhaps post-abortive women need such a shock. Our sin is great, but Christ’s blood is greater. We stand accused by an Enemy who seeks to devour us (1 Pet. 5:8). He accuses us day and night (Rev. 12:10), even tempting our hearts to turn against us. Yet “whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything” (1 John 3:20).

We don’t need to forgive ourselves. God’s forgiveness is sufficient; he has removed our sins “as far as the east is from the west” (Ps. 103:12). As we continue to struggle with our sins’ residual effects, God’s Spirit assures us we belong to him (Rom. 8:16). And he walks with us through the path of healing until the day we’ll experience true and complete wholeness as we stand face-to-face with our Savior (1 John 3:2).