The Hardest Order: A Combat Veteran's Journey Through Forgiveness
There's a phrase we used in the 160th SOAR: "The enemy gets a vote." It meant that no matter how perfectly you planned a mission, the people trying to kill you had their own plans. Combat taught me to expect the unexpected, to adapt, to overcome. But it never prepared me for the hardest order I'd ever receive—one that came not from a commanding officer, but from Christ Himself: "Forgive."
The Weight We Carry Home
I flew as a helicopter crewman in some of the most dangerous airspace imaginable. Every mission required absolute focus, split-second decisions, and trust in your crew. We trained for mechanical failures, enemy fire, weather—everything that could go wrong. But nobody trained us for what happens when you come home and realize some wounds don't show up on X-rays.
Combat creates a unique category of hurt. There are the obvious injuries—the ones medics can treat. Then there are the others: the betrayal you feel when leadership makes decisions that cost lives, the rage toward an enemy who hides among civilians, the guilt over split-second choices made under fire, the bitterness toward those who never served but judge those who did.
For years, I carried these weights like body armor. I thought that's what made me strong, what kept me sharp, what honored those we lost. I was wrong.
The Biblical Reality Check
Scripture doesn't dance around the subject. Jesus is brutally direct: "For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins" (Matthew 6:14-15).
That's not a suggestion. That's an order.
And here's what made it even harder for me to swallow: "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" (Matthew 5:44). Really, Lord? The people who tried to kill my crew? The insurgents who used children as shields? The brass who sent us into situations they didn't understand?
I wanted to explain to God that He didn't understand combat. That forgiveness is fine for civilian life, but war is different. That some things are unforgivable.
Then I read Ephesians 4:31-32: "Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you."
Just as in Christ God forgave you!
That stopped me cold.
The Mission I Couldn't Complete Alone
Here's what I learned when I later went to flight school: you can't fly a helicopter by willpower alone. The physics don't care how determined you are. You need power from the engines, lift from the rotors, and constant adjustments to stay airborne. Fighting the aircraft just makes you crash faster.
Forgiveness is the same way. You can't muscle your way through it. I tried. For years, I tried to forgive through sheer determination, through "manning up," through convincing myself I was over it. But unforgiveness is like a cyclic stick that's fighting you—the harder you grip it, the worse things get.
The breakthrough came when I finally understood what Paul meant in Philippians 4:13: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Not I can do all things. Not even I can do all things if I try hard enough. But through Christ who strengthens me.
Forgiveness isn't about finding it in yourself to let go. It's about letting Christ work through you to do what you cannot do alone.
The Rally Point
In military operations, a rally point is where you regroup when things go sideways. It's your fallback position, your place of safety, your chance to reassess and move forward. For those of us carrying the weight of unforgiveness—whether from combat or any other deep wound—the cross is our rally point.
At the cross, I see the full measure of what was done to Christ. Betrayal by a friend. Abandonment by His disciples. False accusations. Torture. Execution as a criminal. And in His darkest moment, what does He say? "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing" (Luke 23:34).
If Christ could forgive that, who am I to hold onto my bitterness?
The After Action Review
Here's what I've learned about forgiveness on this journey:
Forgiveness isn't forgetting. I still remember every mission, every close call, every loss. God doesn't ask us to develop amnesia. He asks us to choose not to hold the offense against someone.
Forgiveness isn't excusing. Wrong is still wrong. Evil is still evil. Forgiveness doesn't mean pretending that what happened was okay. It means releasing our right to vengeance to the One who judges justly (Romans 12:19).
Forgiveness isn't weakness. It takes more strength to forgive than to hold a grudge. Any coward can nurse bitterness. It takes a warrior to extend mercy.
Forgiveness isn't instant. Sometimes it's a decision you make a hundred times a day. "I choose to forgive" becomes your new mission statement, repeated every time the anger tries to take control again.
Moving Forward
I'm a pastoral counselor now, working specifically with combat veterans. I see guys walking in carrying the same weight I carried—the same bitterness, the same rage, the same chains. And I get to tell them what someone finally told me: You don't have to carry this alone.
Christ stands ready to take the burden. Not because what happened to you doesn't matter. Not because the people who hurt you deserve forgiveness. But because you deserve freedom.
Unforgiveness is a prison where you're both the inmate and the guard. You hold the key, but Christ gives you the strength to turn it.
The mission is clear: "Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you" (Colossians 3:13).
It's the hardest order you'll ever receive.
It's also the one that will finally set you free.
Written By: MIchael Furmanski
Michael Furmanski is a combat veteran who served with the 160th SOAR and later as a defense contractor. After nearly 7 total years in combat zones, he now serves as a pastoral counselor specifically for veterans. He is a business owner and He is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry degree with a focus on pastoral counseling and veteran ministry.
