But what about the Victim

But what about the victim?

If God's judgment is restorative rather than simply punitive, we immediately encounter a difficult question.

What about the person who was hurt?

It is easy to talk about transforming wrongdoers.

But reconciliation cannot simply mean:

The perpetrator repents.

God forgives them.

Everyone moves on.

That would risk treating the suffering of the victim as though it were merely an obstacle to the perpetrator's salvation.

If the fundamental reality is Love, that cannot be enough.

The victim matters.

Their pain matters.

Their loss matters.

Their story matters.

And what was done to them cannot simply be declared irrelevant.

So perhaps reconciliation has to begin somewhere else:

With truth.

The victim no longer has to prove what happened.

No one dismisses their experience.

No one tells them they misunderstood.

No one protects the reputation of the person who harmed them.

No one asks them to keep quiet for the sake of peace.

Everything is known.

Everything is brought into the light.

Imagine what it would mean to be completely understood.

For others to know not merely what happened to you, but exactly what it felt like.

The fear.

The humiliation.

The grief.

The anger.

The consequences that continued years afterwards.

Nothing forgotten.

Nothing minimised.

Nothing dismissed.

Perhaps the first act of perfect justice is therefore:

You are fully known.

And then:

The person who hurt you must know too.

Imagine the wrongdoer finally seeing what happened without excuses or self-deception.

Not merely:

“I did something wrong.”

But:

“Now I understand what I did to you.”

Perhaps they somehow encounter the consequences from the perspective of the person who experienced them.

Then repentance becomes something far deeper than saying:

“I'm sorry.”

It becomes:

I see you.

I see what I did to you.

I understand why it was wrong.

I cannot undo it.

I wish I had never done it.

What can I possibly do to put right what I can?

That would be the beginning of genuine repentance.

But even then, something important remains.

The victim cannot be forced to reconcile.

If our whole argument begins with the claim that Love requires genuine freedom, that freedom cannot suddenly disappear when we reach reconciliation.

God cannot say:

“They've apologised. You must forgive them immediately.”

That would risk becoming another violation of the victim's agency.

Healing may take time.

Trust may take longer.

And reconciliation cannot simply mean pretending the relationship can return to what it was.

Some things cannot be undone.

Someone who was murdered cannot be given back the earthly years they lost.

A childhood destroyed by abuse cannot simply be recreated.

A betrayal cannot become something that never happened.

So God's task would have to be greater than merely erasing the past.

Perhaps redemption means that the past remains true without being allowed to control the future.

The wound becomes healed without the history being denied.

And perhaps the victim eventually reaches a remarkable position.

Not:

“What happened didn't matter.”

But:

“What you did to me no longer has power over me.”

That would be liberation.

And only then could forgiveness become genuinely meaningful.

Forgiveness wouldn't mean declaring evil acceptable.

It wouldn't mean forgetting.

It wouldn't mean avoiding justice.

It wouldn't necessarily mean immediate restoration of trust.

It would mean something closer to:

“I no longer desire to hurt you.

I can see that you have become someone different from the person who harmed me.

From now on I will not allow what you did to interfere with me showing unfailing love.”

And perhaps eventually something even more extraordinary becomes possible.

Reconciliation.

Not compulsory reconciliation.

Not cheap reconciliation.

Not reconciliation achieved by ignoring evil.

But reconciliation after truth.

After recognition.

After repentance.

After transformation.

After healing.

That gives us a very different progression:

Harm
↓
Truth
↓
The victim is fully known
↓
The wrongdoer fully understands
↓
Genuine remorse
↓
Transformation
↓
Healing
↓
Forgiveness
↓
Reconciliation

And perhaps this explains something extraordinary about Jesus.

Jesus doesn't simply tell victims that evil doesn't matter.

He identifies himself with them:

“As you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.” - Matthew 25:40

If that is taken seriously, then God isn't a detached judge watching suffering from a distance.

God identifies with the person who suffers.

And yet Jesus also says:

“Love your enemies.” - Matthew 5:44

Those two ideas belong together.

God takes the suffering of the victim completely seriously.

And God does not give up on the wrongdoer.

Perhaps perfect Love can do something we find almost impossible:

Stand completely with the victim -

while simultaneously working to transform the perpetrator.

Not choosing one person over the other.

Not sacrificing justice for mercy.

Not sacrificing mercy for justice.

But healing both.

And perhaps that is why reconciliation could take a very long time.

Love doesn't impose an artificial deadline.

It continues working until truth has been faced, wounds have healed, people have changed and relationship can genuinely be restored.

If that is true, salvation becomes something much larger than:

“Where will I go when I die?”

Salvation becomes: the healing of relationship.

Between ourselves and God.

Between ourselves and one another.

And even within ourselves.

Perhaps that is what Paul means when he describes God's purpose as:

“through him to reconcile to himself all things” - Colossians 1:20

All things.

Not merely forgiving isolated individuals.

But ultimately putting creation's broken relationships right.

And that brings us towards an extraordinary possibility:

Perhaps the final destination of creation isn't simply a collection of individuals who have each been “saved.”

Perhaps it is a community of reconciled consciousness -

distinct persons who remain genuinely themselves, yet finally live in completely restored relationship with God and with one another.

If creation began in Love,

perhaps its destination is not merely to return to Love -

but to become capable of freely participating in it.