I’m praying this prayer today at the ERLC Caring Now Conference. I pray it blesses you.


We come before You, a brokenhearted people. We cry out for healing, for salving of a wound that is too pervasive for us to heal on our own.

With tears, we ask why you didn’t rescue us from harm.

We still ache in the memories of flashbacks. We struggle with to view sex as beautiful. We trigger easily, though we certainly wish we didn’t. We worry incessantly that our children will be victimized as we were.

Our worth in the aftermath of abuse has been violently dismantled.

And sometimes that dismantling came from the voices of Your church.

We are weary of the accusations, the minimizing, the platitudes thrown carelessly our way.

So many of Your people underestimate trauma’s bite, and their misunderstanding has bled into our lives. Their actions and inaction have caused us a lot of confusion.

But this week, I read again about Your death on the cross, hanging naked in that desolate place–as you took our place.

You were misunderstood, too.

You suffered privately and publicly.

You endured mockery and torture–at the hands of those who should have heralded You.

Oh dear Jesus, You understand. You empathize. Your love is for us is robust, not merely embodied in casually-tossed words, but through justice-laden action. In Your sacrifice, You deemed us worthy. You fought for us, those who have often felt lost in the margins.

Because of the audacity of your demonstrated love, I dare to pray today for a better future–for me, for us.

Would You continue to heal us, Lord Jesus?

Would You bring people our way who love us toward health, who empathize, listen and weep alongside?

Would you replace our anxiety, depression, and ideations with hefty doses of Your shalom?

We understand that we walk with a limp on this earth. Instead of viewing our broken gait as disqualification, help us to welcome it as sheer beauty. Because our weakness is what propels us into Your arms. We have the capacity to know You more because of the limp.

In our brokenness, we dare to ask for paradox–renewed hearts, a resurrected story, and an eschatological perspective.

We may cry today, but one day, You will wipe away our cries.

In the liminal space between the now and not yet, give us tenacity, grit, and hearts bent toward health.


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