Abuse is a big word.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately. Words are funny things, holding nuance and implication, and changing meanings and associations over time. And some we use, presuming others understand our meaning, while they may actually hold a wide range of contexts.
Manipulators know this. Governments know this. People use it to their advantage in communication all the time, but let’s set that aside for a moment.
What, for example, comes up for you when you think of the difference between being hurt by someone or being harmed?
I can be hurt by someone’s choice not to hire me, invite me to a party, or include me in what they’re doing. I remember being hurt once as a teenager when my mom insisted that I go to bed early when my brothers were in town and everyone was up talking and laughing late into the night. I felt left out, and I was sad that I wasn’t included—but what I didn’t know was that I was being “kidnapped” later that night to be initiated into a fun club at school, and my Mom was trying to make sure I got sleep.
I was hurt, but my mom was in on a big surprise that was coming. She didn’t harm me.
Words are nuanced things.
Finding the line between hurt and harm—or for that matter, between misconduct, heavy-handedness, or spiritual abuse—can be daunting. We tend to use words that feel more comfortable to us or protect us from deeper truths or pain.
I wasn’t abused. (That’s something that happens to other people.)
I made my own choices. (No one forced me to do anything.)
It was my own fault. (I should have seen; I should have known.)
What I walked through wasn't that bad. (Other people go through much worse.)
They didn't know any better. (I'm sure they didn't mean any harm.)
They were doing the best they could.
Do you hear the excuses in those sentences? The self-blame? The comparison? The inclination to let someone off the hook without facing the reality of harm?
We tell ourselves stories that hold a measure of truth, either about ourselves or others, but often they don’t tell the whole truth.
At The Way Home, we don’t use the word abuse lightly. When someone misuses their positional authority, it is an abuse of power and can cause serious harm to those under their care, especially in spiritual contexts.
Let me ask—Where has your trust been wounded? Where has your faith been interrupted?
Where has your trust been wounded? Where has your faith been interrupted?
Maybe you know what you walked though was abuse. Or maybe abuse still sounds like too big of a word.
What if for the moment, we set aside definitions and terminology—and all of the reasons we might keep God at bay—and invite Him to heal the very real wounds of our hearts?
He has done that for me. When I didn’t understand the abuse I was living under, He carried me. When I was groomed and lifted up and felt on top of the world, He was with me. When I was beaten down and belittled, struggling for air, He tended me. When I felt big and brave—and when I felt small and insecure, He was fighting for me.
And He is fighting for you, too—with more tenderness and understanding than you might believe or imagine.
Abuse is a big word. But our God is bigger.