Every person has been wounded—and your wound is not only in the past.
The ways your heart was harmed—through
cruelty, absence, or the silence of someone who should have shown
up—didn’t simply disappear with time. Those wounds have shaped the way
you learned to live. Your drivenness, your walls, your need for control,
your inability to rest—these tendencies have grown in the soil of your
pain.
Your wound can become the place where you are held captive.
Isaiah 61
draws a direct connection between a broken heart and captivity. Whatever
you have built your life around to protect yourself from being wounded
again can slowly become the thing that keeps you bound. Jesus was sent
to bind up the brokenhearted and set the captives free. That's very good
news for people with a history of trauma.
Healing begins with naming—and then grieving.
You cannot heal what you will not
acknowledge. Naming your wound is not about blame; it is about honesty.
And once you name it, healing requires something that is often harder:
to feel your unfelt feelings. To enter the grief. To sit with the sorrow
instead of running from it.
