Two people close to me were going through a difficult period in their relationship. I cared about both of them, which meant I could understand why one person felt hurt without pretending that the other person was completely evil. The situation had become more complicated because the original event was no longer the only issue. Assumptions had been added to it, conversations were taking place with other people, and every new interpretation made the offence feel more justified.
The person who felt wronged had thought about the matter repeatedly, but the thinking was no longer producing clarity. It was producing anger. Every previous interaction was being reinterpreted through the present pain, until one disappointing action began to look like proof that the entire relationship had always been false.
As I listened, I realised that this is how offence often grows. Something may genuinely have happened, but we do not stop with what happened. We assign a motive, build a case, find people who agree with us and eventually arrive at a conclusion the other person has never had an opportunity to answer.
What follows is the response I would give to someone I love who is in that position.
My response
The first thing I want you to do is pause.
I know you have already spent a lot of time thinking about what happened, but thinking and reflecting are not always the same thing. You can think about an offence for several weeks and become less clear because every thought begins from the assumption that the worst interpretation must be true.
Pausing means creating enough distance to separate what happened from what you have concluded about it. What exactly did the person say or do? Which part do you know, and which part are you assuming? Have you heard the person’s explanation directly, or have you completed the explanation in your own mind?
Your pain may be real even if some of your conclusions are wrong. You do not need to deny how you feel, but you should not allow the intensity of the feeling to become proof of every assumption attached to it.
Before offence becomes a position you must defend, pause long enough to ask whether there is anything you still do not know.
“But the person should have known that I would be hurt.”
Perhaps they should have known. People who love us, lead us or have known us for a long time should sometimes understand us better than they do. However, expecting someone to know is not the same as giving the person an opportunity to hear what is in your heart.
Many people do not say their minds to the person involved. They say it privately, repeat it to friends and replay it internally until the conclusion becomes settled. By the time a direct conversation finally happens, the person is no longer asking a question. They are presenting a judgment.
Ask the question while it is still a question.
Tell the person what happened from your perspective, explain how it affected you and allow them to respond. Do not begin with an accusation about their character when the issue may be a misunderstanding, a failure of communication or a decision whose context you do not possess.
Direct conversation does not guarantee agreement, but it gives truth a better chance than gossip does.
“What does John the Baptist have to do with this?”
I often think about John the Baptist when I think about offence.
John had prepared the way for Jesus. He had baptised Him and publicly testified about who He was. Later, John was imprisoned after confronting Herod Antipas over his relationship with Herodias. While in prison, John heard about the works of Christ and sent his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are You the Coming One, or do we look for another?”
Jesus answered by pointing to what was happening: the blind received sight, the lame walked, the poor heard the good news, and then He added, “Blessed is he who is not offended because of Me.”
I read that moment as a warning about what disappointment can do to our interpretation, although the passage does not tell us every thought that passed through John’s mind. John knew who Jesus was, yet prison created a painful question. Jesus was helping other people, but John remained confined. It would have been human to wonder, “If You have this power, and if I served Your purpose, why have You not intervened for me?”
The Bible does not record Jesus arranging John’s release. That silence does not mean John was unimportant, because Jesus went on to speak with extraordinary honour about him. It means that being loved and being immediately rescued from every consequence or hardship are not the same thing.
Sometimes we become offended because another person is doing good elsewhere but is not responding to our situation in the way we expected. We convert unmet expectation into a judgment about love, loyalty or character.
John did something important: he sent a question. He did not have to pretend that prison had created no struggle. He brought the question into the open.
That is better than allowing disappointment to write an entire theology about another person’s heart.
“Are you saying I am responsible for what the other person did?”
No. Taking responsibility does not mean accepting blame for someone else’s wrongdoing.
If another person behaved badly, that behaviour belongs to them. If they lied, humiliated you, broke an agreement or abused their position, honour does not require you to rename the act or act as though it did not matter. You may need to confront it, create distance, report it or establish a boundary that prevents it from happening again.
Your responsibility concerns your own decisions, expectations and response.
Did you make a choice despite being advised of the risk? Did you fail to communicate something the other person genuinely needed to know? Did you expect rescue from a consequence you freely accepted? Have you repeated the matter to people who intensify your anger without helping you find a truthful or honourable resolution?
You can acknowledge another person’s wrong while still asking what belongs to you. These truths do not cancel each other.
Responsibility gives you something you can act upon. Blaming the other person for everything gives them control over whether you ever become free.
“What if I made my own decision and it went badly?”
Then you must be willing to bear the consequences of the decision without turning disappointment into resentment against the person whose advice you did not follow.
When I was starting my first business, one of my mentors wanted me to work for him. I decided not to. He was not happy because he believed joining him was the better path, but my decision did not have to destroy the relationship.
I understood that choosing my path meant accepting its risk. I told myself that the worst outcome might be returning to my parents’ home in Ife, and I was prepared to live with that possibility. I could not reject my mentor’s preferred path and then blame him if my own path became difficult.
You are allowed to make a decision different from the one your mentor, parent or leader recommends. Honour does not eliminate personal agency. But agency and responsibility must remain together. If you choose the decision, you must also own the reasonable consequences of it.
Do not convert the discomfort of your choice into evidence that the person who advised you has abandoned you.
“What if someone senior treated me unfairly?”
I once stayed with a mentor who later asked me to leave his house because I was not available when he expected me to be. I had been at work, and I could have concentrated entirely on how unfair or painful the situation felt.
Instead, I asked what I could learn. I realised that the next time, I needed to communicate more clearly about why I would not be available, or make a greater effort to be available where the expectation was reasonable.
That reflection did not require me to conclude that every action taken against me was perfect. It helped me identify what I could improve without allowing the incident to destroy the relationship or become an offence I carried for years.
This is where the advice I learnt from Mike Murdock has helped me: never forget who you are talking to.
Remembering who you are talking to does not mean that powerful or respected people are beyond correction. It means disagreement should not cause you to forget the history, office, age, contribution or relationship that deserves honour. You can tell the truth without becoming insulting. You can disagree without attempting to humiliate the person. You can establish a boundary without rewriting every good thing that came before the conflict.
Honour restrains the part of us that wants a painful moment to become permission for contempt.
“Why should their position matter if I am right?”
Because being right about the issue does not make every possible response right.
You may be correct in substance and dishonourable in delivery. You may possess the stronger argument and still use it to embarrass, gossip about or destroy someone unnecessarily. Truth does not need contempt in order to remain true.
I believe honour precedes many forms of lifting because people are often involved in opening doors, teaching us, recommending us and trusting us with responsibility. Even when God lifts a person, He often uses people as part of the process. That does not mean we should flatter people, tolerate manipulation or surrender conscience in order to gain access. It means character matters in how we handle relationships, particularly when we have been disappointed.
Do not become dishonourable because someone else behaved poorly. Their conduct belongs to them. Yours belongs to you.
“Should I remain close to someone whose behaviour hurts me?”
Not necessarily.
Forgiveness, honour and closeness are not the same thing. You can release a grudge and still recognise that trust has been damaged. You can speak respectfully and still decide that the relationship requires distance. You can love someone without attending every event, sharing every private detail or giving them the same access they previously had.
Sometimes separating yourself is the wise response. You stop placing yourself in the part of the relationship where the repeated behaviour continues to harm you. You make the decision without a campaign, without recruiting allies and without needing to demonstrate publicly that the relationship has changed.
Distance can be peaceful.
The boundary should not be designed to punish the person until they beg for restoration. It should protect what needs protecting while leaving room for truth, repentance and change. People change, just as you have changed. You do not have to restore trust before evidence supports it, but you also do not need to make permanent hatred the proof that you took the offence seriously.
“What if the people around me agree that I should remain angry?”
Be careful about staying around people who keep your offence alive.
Some people listen to your pain because they love you. Others enjoy the intimacy and influence that come from being the person to whom you repeatedly report the offence. They validate every assumption, add motives you had not considered and keep you emotionally dependent on the story.
A good friend does not merely agree with you. A good friend helps you tell the truth, identify your responsibility and choose a response that will not make your life smaller.
If your spouse, friend or relative continually inflames the situation, you may need to caution them. Tell them that you need help thinking clearly, not help becoming more offended. Ask them to support a truthful conversation, a healthy boundary or whatever responsible action the situation requires.
Do not build a community around your wound.
“What if I cannot stop replaying what happened?”
Then get help.
Some experiences are too painful or complicated to process through personal discipline alone. Speaking with a qualified therapist, counsellor or mature pastoral adviser can help you understand what happened without allowing it to control your health and future relationships.
I have been to therapy, and I am not ashamed of it. During one of the worst periods of my business life, I needed help getting my mind back into a healthier place. Seeking help did not make me weak or faithless. It was one of the ways I took responsibility for my mind.
Offence can affect your mental and physical health. It changes how you sleep, how you interpret people and how much emotional energy remains available for your work and family. You do not need to carry it as evidence that what happened mattered.
Healing does not excuse the other person. It prevents their behaviour from continuing to injure you internally.
“What should I do now?”
Begin with five honest actions.
First, pause before you make another decision from anger. Separate the facts from the assumptions and write down the questions you still need answered.
Second, speak directly where it is safe and appropriate. Explain what happened, listen to the response and resist the desire to turn one action into a final judgment about the person’s entire character.
Third, take responsibility for your own decisions, communication and response. Do not accept blame that is not yours, but do not use another person’s wrong to hide from the part that belongs to you.
Fourth, establish whatever boundary wisdom requires. Honour does not demand unlimited access, and forgiveness does not make trust automatic.
Finally, refuse to carry a grudge. If you cannot release it alone, seek the help required to become healthy again.
You may never receive the explanation you want. The other person may never agree with your account, apologise properly or change in the period you expected. Your freedom cannot depend entirely on their response.
Behave honourably because that is who you have chosen to become, not because the other person has behaved perfectly.
Offence begins with something another person does, but it becomes a prison when your inner life starts revolving around it. Pause before you enter that prison. Ask the question, own your decisions, establish the boundary and keep your heart free enough to move forward.
The relationship may change, but offence does not have to change you for the worse.
Biblical passages referenced: Matthew 11:2–11; Matthew 14:3–12; Mark 6:17–29.
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