Hurt by the Church?

When the Church Hurts You

I wish I didn't have to write this. I wish I could tell you Christians don't hurt people, pastors always get it right, churches always handle conflict with grace, leaders always listen well, and Christians never gossip, betray one another, choose sides, misuse authority, or say things they later regret.

But that wouldn't be honest.

Christians hurt people. Churches hurt people. Pastors hurt people. And I have hurt people.

After spending much of my adult life in pastoral ministry, I can look back and recognize conversations I wish I could have again. There are situations I would handle differently today. There are times I should have listened longer, spoken less, shown more patience, or tried harder to understand someone's pain before responding. That's hard for me to admit, but if we're going to talk honestly about church hurt, honesty needs to begin with those of us who have been pastors and leaders.

Sometimes we get it wrong.

And when you're hurt by the church, there is a particular kind of pain that comes with it because you expected more. You expected the church to be safe. You expected Christians to act like Christians. You expected your pastor to care. You expected that conversation to remain confidential. You expected the people who prayed with you on Sunday not to talk about you on Monday.

You expected grace, and instead you got hurt.

I recently watched the Netflix documentary about the death of a pastor's wife. As I watched, one of the things I kept thinking about was the church. I can only imagine the pain, confusion, questions, and broken trust something like that caused for the people in that congregation. When something devastating happens involving spiritual leaders, the hurt rarely stays contained to one family or one relationship. It ripples through a church. People who trusted their leaders can suddenly find themselves questioning people they loved, a community that felt safe, and sometimes even their faith.

Most church hurt isn't that dramatic, of course. Sometimes it's much quieter. A friendship ends. A pastor disappoints you. Someone shares something you told them in confidence. You're excluded. A decision is made, and nobody listens to you. You leave a church you loved and discover that people you thought were your closest friends suddenly disappear from your life.

I've seen it. I've experienced some of it myself. And I've probably been on the other side of someone's story too.

So I'm not writing this from a place of superiority. I'm writing as someone who loves the Church, has served the Church for years, has been hurt by Christians, and knows that I have hurt Christians too.

And here's the uncomfortable truth: sometimes the Christian world sucks.

There. I said it.

Not Jesus. Jesus doesn't suck. But sometimes the way we Christians represent Him does.

You Don't Have to Pretend It Didn't Hurt

One of the worst things we can do to hurt people is rush them toward a spiritual answer before we've allowed them to acknowledge the wound.

"Just forgive."

"God has a plan."

"Don't become bitter."

"People aren't perfect."

There may be truth in those statements, but truth spoken without tenderness can become another wound. If someone has been deeply hurt, I don't think the first question should always be, "Have you forgiven them?" Sometimes the first question needs to be, "What happened?"

Tell me your story. What did they say? What did they do? What did you lose? Why did it hurt so badly?

Scripture permits us to do this. Read the Psalms. David doesn't sanitize his emotions before bringing them to God:

"How long, LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?"
— Psalm 13:1

That's raw, and God allowed it to become Scripture. Maybe that tells us something about how God handles our pain.

God isn't frightened by your questions or intimidated by your anger. You don't have to walk into His presence pretending everything is fine. Psalm 62:8 tells us to "pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge."

I love that language: pour it out.

If you're angry, tell God. If you're confused, tell Him. If you don't want to go back to church, tell Him. If you're struggling to trust Christians again, tell Him. If you don't want to forgive the person who hurt you, be honest about that, too.

God already knows what's in your heart. You might as well be authentic with Him about it.

Be Honest With Someone Else Too

I've watched people carry church wounds alone for years. Please don't.

Find someone safe. And by "safe," I don't necessarily mean someone who will agree with everything you say. A safe person can hear your pain without turning your story into gossip. They don't immediately defend the church, but they don't immediately attack it either. They can sit in the tension with you.

You need someone who can sometimes say, "What happened to you was wrong." But you also need someone who loves you enough to eventually say, "Something is happening in your heart that we need to talk about."

Galatians 6:2 says, "Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." Sometimes healing begins when somebody finally helps you carry what you've been carrying alone.

Talk with a mature Christian. Talk with a trusted pastor. Talk with a counselor. Find someone who isn't emotionally invested in taking sides.

Be authentic with God, and be authentic with safe people.

You Are Responsible for Your Heart

This is where the conversation gets harder.

I can believe you were hurt and still care too much about yourself to let your hurt destroy your heart.

Proverbs 4:23 has become an incredibly important verse to me:

"Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it."

Guard your heart.

Whose responsibility is that?

Yours.

You may not have chosen what happened to you. You may not have deserved what someone said. You may not have caused the betrayal, the gossip, the manipulation, or the rejection. You may not be responsible for the wound.

But you are responsible for your heart.

Someone else can wound you, but you don't have to permit them to determine who you become because of that wound.

Hebrews 12:15 warns us about a "bitter root." I think that's an incredibly accurate picture because roots grow underground. Nobody sees them at first.

That's often how bitterness works. At first, you're hurt. Then you're cautious. Then you're suspicious. Eventually, every pastor reminds you of that pastor. Every church reminds you of that church. Every disagreement feels like another betrayal. Every correction feels like control.

Before long, the person who hurt you isn't even in your life anymore, but they're still shaping your life.

That's why God tells us to guard our hearts.

Forgiveness Doesn't Mean What Happened Was Okay

Forgiveness is one of the hardest conversations to have with someone who has been deeply hurt. I would never want to sit across from someone who just told me their painful story and casually say, "Well, you need to forgive."

Yes, Jesus calls us to forgive. But forgiveness isn't pretending. It doesn't mean what happened was okay. It doesn't mean there shouldn't be consequences. It doesn't mean you immediately trust the person again, and it doesn't always mean the relationship returns to what it once was.

Paul writes:

"Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you."
— Ephesians 4:32

Forgiveness means I surrender my right to revenge. I stop demanding the right to be judge and jury. I place the person and what they did into God's hands.

Sometimes I have to do that again tomorrow. And again next week.

Forgiveness can be a decision followed by a long process of the heart catching up.

And forgiveness and trust are not the same thing. Forgiveness can be given; trust has to be rebuilt.

If someone repeatedly lied to you, forgiveness doesn't require you to believe everything they say tomorrow. If someone abused authority, forgiveness doesn't mean putting them right back into authority. If someone continually violates boundaries, forgiveness doesn't mean giving them unlimited access to your life.

Romans 12:18 says:

"If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone."

I love the realism of that verse. "If it is possible." Apparently, Scripture recognizes that sometimes it isn't.

Reconciliation requires two people. Forgiveness doesn't. You can release someone to God even if they never apologize.

Eventually, Let God Examine Your Heart Too

At some point in healing, we have to move from "God, look at what they did" to "God, look at me."

David prayed:

"Search me, God, and know my heart... See if there is any offensive way in me."
— Psalm 139:23–24

That's a courageous prayer.

Sometimes we were genuinely wronged. Sometimes, there is also more to the story. Our expectations may have been unrealistic. Our pride may have been wounded. We may have contributed to the conflict. We may have assumed motives that weren't there.

And sometimes what happened really was wrong.

Examining your own heart doesn't mean taking responsibility for somebody else's sin. It means refusing to allow somebody else's sin to keep you from dealing honestly with your own heart.

Ask God: Have I become bitter? Am I telling the story accurately? Am I assuming someone's motives? Is there someone I need to forgive? Is there something I need to own? Do I owe someone an apology?

That's spiritual maturity. We can acknowledge what someone did to us while still allowing God to work on what is happening inside us.

Jesus Is Not the Christian Who Hurt You

This may be the thing I most want you to hear.

Jesus is not the pastor who disappointed you. Jesus is not the person who gossiped about you. Jesus is not the leader who mishandled your situation. Jesus is not the friend who abandoned you.

Christians are supposed to represent Jesus. Sometimes we represent Him beautifully, and sometimes we represent Him terribly.

But don't judge the character of Jesus entirely by the behavior of people who claim His name.

Look at Jesus.

When people were hurting, He moved toward them. When people were ashamed, He restored dignity. When religious leaders became self-righteous, He confronted them. When people were broken, He showed compassion.

And when His enemies crucified Him, Jesus prayed:

"Father, forgive them."
— Luke 23:34

If you've been wounded by Christianity, don't stop looking at Christ.

I Hope You Risk Church Again

I want to be careful here because maybe you're not ready.

Maybe walking through the doors of a church still brings anxiety. Maybe you need some time. Maybe you need counseling. Maybe you need a different congregation. Maybe for a while, you need to sit quietly in the back and leave immediately afterward.

That's okay.

But I hope your story doesn't end outside the Church.

Jesus loves His Church. Ephesians 5:25 says, "Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her."

The Church is messy because it's filled with recovering sinners. Including me. Including you. That's why church can be unbelievably beautiful one moment and unbelievably painful the next.

God still designed us for community. Hebrews 10 tells us not to give up meeting together. The answer to an unhealthy Christian community isn't permanent isolation. Eventually, I believe the answer is a healthy Christian community.

Take your time. Ask questions. Watch the leadership. Look for humility. Pay attention to how leaders handle mistakes and how they respond when someone disagrees with them. Watch how they treat people who can't do anything for them. Look for a community where Jesus is more important than personalities and where grace and truth live together.

Then, when you're ready, risk being known again.

Healing Doesn't Mean Forgetting

You may always remember what happened. Healing doesn't erase your story; it changes the power your story has over you.

There may come a day when you can remember the person without feeling rage. You can drive past the church without your stomach tightening. You can hear someone's name without replaying the entire story. You can worship without wondering whether everyone around you is eventually going to hurt you.

That's healing.

Sometimes God does something remarkable with our wounds. The wound becomes a scar, and the scar becomes part of the story we use to help somebody else heal.

Paul says God comforts us in our troubles so that we can comfort others with the comfort we ourselves have received from Him (2 Corinthians 1:3–4).

God doesn't waste wounds surrendered to Him.

If You're Hurting Right Now

Can I pastor you for just a moment?

Don't make a permanent decision about Jesus because of the failure of one of His followers. Don't let bitterness take root, but don't pretend you're okay either. Tell the truth. Talk to somebody safe. Get counseling if you need it. Set boundaries where they're necessary. Forgive, even if that process takes time. Ask God to search your own heart.

And above everything else, guard your heart.

Not because your hurt doesn't matter, but because your heart matters too much to allow someone else's sin to own it.

I've been around the Church a long time. I've seen Christians do some incredibly hurtful things. I've been hurt, and I've hurt people.

But I've also watched the Church surround grieving families. I've watched Christians forgive things I didn't think could be forgiven. I've watched people show up when everyone else disappeared. I've watched churches feed people, welcome outsiders, restore relationships, walk alongside people through addiction, care for children, pray through the night, sit beside hospital beds, and love people when there was absolutely nothing they could receive in return.

I've seen the ugly.

But I've also seen something breathtakingly beautiful.

So I'm not giving up on the Church. More importantly, Jesus hasn't given up on His Church either.

If the Church has hurt you, my prayer isn't simply that someday you'll "get over it." My prayer is that Jesus will meet you in it, heal what was wounded, protect your heart from bitterness, give you wisdom about boundaries, surround you with safe people, and eventually give you the courage to trust again.

"Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it." — Proverbs 4:23

Prayer

Father,

You know my hurt. You know what happened, what was said, and what I've carried because of it. I don't want to hide my anger, disappointment, or questions from You. Help me bring You my real heart.

Guard my heart from bitterness and cynicism. Give me the grace to forgive without pretending the hurt didn't matter, and give me wisdom to know where healthy boundaries are needed.

Search my heart, too. Show me what You want to heal and anything in me that needs to change. Surround me with safe people who will listen, pray, and walk with me.

Most of all, keep my eyes on Jesus. Don't let the failures of Christians cause me to lose sight of the faithfulness of Christ.

I give You my hurt, the people who hurt me, and my heart.

Guard it. Heal it. Make it more like Yours.

In Jesus' name,
Amen.