When Relationships Hurt

by Jennifer Slattery on January 1, 2026December 31, 2025

(This first published on March 30, 2023.)

Relationships can lead to great joy and fulfillment, but they can also trigger significant anxiety and pain. While God can, and often does, bring healing, restoration, and wholeness to some of our most challenging relationships, sadly, some connections remain fractured.

This often leaves us wrestling with difficult and confusing questions like, how do we love others well, in a godly and healthy way, without inviting continual injury? How can we protect our hearts from what is harmful while nourishing it with everything life giving and true? How do we grieve well, without bitterness, and while holding tightly to hope?

Or perhaps to phrase it differently, how do we experience the victorious, thriving life Christ promised in every situation? Without allowing other people’s behavior to negatively affect ours?

Is this even possible?

These were some of the questions I addressed last weekend when I spoke to a group of women in Rockford, Michigan. While there, I heard stories of deep mother-daughter wounds. Of seemingly irreparably broken friendships. And listening, I recalled the hurt others had shared withe me shortly before. Of challenging marriages and shattered trust. And on occasion, of situations where women realized, despite their longing for reconciliation, wisdom required distance. And in every instance, I heard sorrow expressed.

I could relate. I imagine you can, too. We’ve all suffered the effects of living in a sin-tainted world that is far from what God intended; far from the joyful paradise for which we’re destined.

We are all living somewhere within the messy middle, and that hurts. But that doesn’t mean we can’t receive joy and peace amidst the storm. While I’m still on this journey of becoming and receiving, God has and is teaching me some things regarding how to thrive, even while my soul aches.

I’m learning to give myself space to mourn, and to recognize the holy thread woven through my grief. God created us to give and receive love, without fear or injury. To crave emotional intimacy and healthy connection. That is what we’re destined for, and therefore the states for which we’ll always long.

But God’s showed me that I also must always grieve with hope, keeping my heart open to the possibility that, one day, things might change. This is and may always feel hard—finding a way to accept what is without hardening myself against potential miracles to come. Even if that means my heart remains a little bruised.

In the meantime, I seek God’s perspective—of my hurts, the other person, and the situation—recognizing my perspective is limited, tainted by scars previously incurred, including past interactions with the individual, and often deceived. Once He’s corrected my view, or removed my plank, so to speak, I ask for His guidance on how to proceed. He usually only tells me my next couple steps, and that always involves resting in Him.

Receiving from Him.

Letting Him fill my soul—with Him. The God who knows me fully, loves me completely, and will never leave.

The God who says to each of us, “Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the Lord, who has compassion on you” (Isaiah 54:10, NIV).

Let’s talk about this. How do you heal, nourish, and protect your heart when others wound it?

If this resonates with you, you might also receive encouragement from this Faith Over Fear episode titled “When Relationships Hurt: Finding Healing, Safety, and Hope in Christ”.

How to Trust God When Prayers Go Unanswered – Faith Over Fear

(Scroll down to share your thoughts on future episodes!) In this powerful episode of Faith Over Fear, Carol sits down with Chad Roberts to confront one of the most painful lies we believe in suffering: If God loved me, He would stop this. Even more deeply, many of us quietly wrestle with the fear that suffering means God has abandoned us. Through Chad’s personal story of losing his sight, this conversation gently but firmly reframes that lie with truth: God’s presence is not measured by our comfort. Instead of standing at a distance, He steps into our pain—and never leaves. Together, Carol and Chad explore how suffering can distort our view of God and whisper dangerous lies about His character. Rooted in Scripture, they walk through the stories of Joseph, Job, and ultimately Jesus, reminding us that while God may not always provide explanations, He always offers His presence. The cross becomes the clearest picture of this truth—not a removal of suffering, but redemption through it. This episode also unpacks what it means to develop unshakable confidence in God—not confidence in outcomes, but in His character. Chad offers practical insight into what “suffering well” looks like in everyday moments and how to guard your heart against bitterness when life doesn’t go as planned. For those walking alongside someone in pain, this conversation provides compassionate guidance on what to say—and what not to say—encouraging listeners to replace empty platitudes with meaningful presence. If you’re in a season of pain, disappointment, or questioning where God is, this episode offers a steady reminder: you are not alone, and your suffering is not a sign of God’s absence—but an invitation to experience His nearness in a deeper way. Resource referenced: Blind Faith: Seeing God Through Darkness by Chad Roberts Biblical verses and passages discussed: Psalm 118:24 James 1:2 Mark 11:22 Psalm 23:2 Jeremiah 2:13 2 Corinthians 4:17 1 Peter 4:19 Isaiah 40:31 Connect with Chad Roberts: On his website On Instagram On Facebook Follow his work on Amazon Find Carol McCracken: On her website On Facebook On Instagram Reflective Questions: When you’re in a difficult season, what thoughts do you tend to believe about God—and are they rooted in truth or in fear? Have you ever equated God’s love with your level of comfort? How might that belief be shaping your faith right now? What would it look like for you to shift from trusting outcomes to trusting God’s character? In what ways might God be inviting you to experience His presence in your current struggle rather than removing it? How do you typically respond to others who are suffering—and how can you grow in offering presence instead of quick answers? What is one simple, grounding practice you can begin this week to stay anchored in truth when suffering feels overwhelming? We’d love your input on something we're praying through.As we plan our next mini-series for Faith Over Fear, we want to speak into what you’re actually walking through—not just what we think might help.If you have 30 seconds, would you take our quick poll on Spotify? Your responses will guide the conversations we create. Take our poll HERE! Discover more Christian podcasts at lifeaudio.com and inquire about advertising opportunities at lifeaudio.com/contact-us.

Living Split: The Cost of Hiding Our Wounded Half – Guest post by Jessica Brodie

by Jennifer Slattery on October 30, 2025October 30, 2025

Have you ever seen a tree split in two, yet still standing tall? It’s a beautiful and amazing thing to behold.

Recently my husband and I went camping in the Monongahela National Forest in West Virginia. I didn’t notice the tree the evening before, when we set up camp. But at dawn, I wandered a bit and discovered the tall beauty. Slender but sturdy, she rose high above our campsite. Right down the center, it looked like a perfect slice had been made from top to bottom. Yet still she stood, growing and thriving, providing shelter for countless forest creatures.

Gazing at the two halves, I began to think about how that’s sometimes the way it is with people. Many of us seem to have two halves—one that’s our private self and one that’s the version we show the world. Both halves are there, making up one whole and functioning as one for all the world to see.

Yet when you pause to look closely, you notice there’s a split. Maybe one half isn’t identical to the other. Perhaps it has scars, defects, and wounds, things that weaken its structure or weigh it down. The other side might look healthier, as if thriving. Regardless, it’s connected to that other half. Both are part of the same unit. They are one, tied together in life.

For many years I was like that—I had what felt like two widely separate “halves.” I had my public self, which pretended everything was just perfect, as if I had no problems at all. Perhaps I looked confident, invincible, like I had it all together. Yet walking alongside me in every moment was that other half—vulnerable, wounded, hurting, and overly sensitive.

That other half had a harder time trusting, a harder time confiding. It built up an armor of protection from what it assumed was a big, bad world—so much armor, in fact, that few could penetrate it. So much armor that I spent far too much energy on protecting myself from harm instead of what God really wanted me to focus on.

It was a lonely place, and I’m grateful those years are over.

That notion of a hidden self—a hidden “half”—is something I address in my latest Christian contemporary novel, Tangled Roots. In the book, Tiff has carefully constructed a façade so ironclad that no one knows she was once raised in an abusive, dysfunctional family, one of those “no good Steadmans.” She ran so far from her past both physically and emotionally that it doesn’t even cross her mind anymore, except in the occasional nightmare.

Yet when her brother is released from prison and his parole officer wants him to join Tiff in her new, wholesome hometown of Dahlia, South Carolina, her carefully concealed past now comes back to haunt her. She has to confront her past—her hidden wounds, her hidden self, not to mention her anger toward her brother and her family—in order to move into a healthy, godly future.

Do you know someone who goes through this in real life, or is that something you have been struggling with? It takes a lot of emotional and spiritual effort to maintain those two halves—so much so that the work sometimes interferes with God’s purpose for our lives. Sometimes it prevents us from forgiving those who once hurt us, or even forgiving ourselves for past sins. Sometimes it prevents us from becoming the best, healthiest version of ourselves—the person God truly wants us to be, brimming with the fruit of the Spirit.

There are times when it’s best to leave the past in the past. But sometimes, we need to deal with the pain of the past in order to let it go.

God can help with this. Church can help with this.

But once we’re free of the shackles of the past, the liberation is truly, abundantly awesome.

“So you also are complete through your union with Christ, who is the head over every ruler and authority.”—Colossians 2:10 (NLT)

Let’s talk about this! How easy or challenging do you find it to share your pain and difficulties with others? Why do you think this is? Share your thoughts in the comments below, because we can all learn from and encourage each other!

Get to Know Jessica Brodie

Jessica Brodie is an award-winning Christian novelist, journalist, editor, blogger, and writing coach. She is also the editor of the South Carolina United Methodist Advocate, the oldest newspaper in Methodism. Her two Christian contemporary novels, The Memory Garden and Tangled Roots, are Amazon bestsellers. Learn more about Jessica’s writing ministry and read her faith blog at http://jessicabrodie.com. She has a YouTube devotional, and you can also connect with her on Facebook, Instagram, and more. She’s also produced a free eBook, A God-Centered Life: 10 Faith-Based Practices When You’re Feeling Anxious, Grumpy, or Stressed.

Check Out Her Latest Release, Tangled Roots:

Some secrets can’t stay buried forever.
Tiff Steadman has spent seven years running from the broken pieces of her past—the alcoholic parents, the convicted-felon brother, the shame of being “one of those no-good Steadmans.” Now, as editor of the Dahlia Weekly, she’s finally built the respectable life she’s always craved. With a proposal from her upstanding boyfriend Bobby, everything seems perfect.

Until her past comes knocking.

James Steadman has found God behind prison bars, but freedom feels more terrifying than his cell ever did. All he wants is a chance to reconnect with the little sister he once protected—the sister who now refuses to even acknowledge his existence. When his parole officer sends him to Dahlia, James discovers Tiff’s walls run deeper than he imagined, and starting over means confronting the wreckage they both left behind.

Two siblings. One devastating secret. And a love that refuses to let go.

As wedding plans collide with family secrets, Tiff must choose between the safe life she’s built and the messy grace that might heal them both. Can she find the courage to let her brother back into her heart? And can James prove that redemption is real—even for people like them?

In a small Southern town where everyone knows everyone’s business, some stories are too painful to tell—and too powerful to stay buried. Grab your copy HERE!

Buy Book Two in the Dahlia Series, where grace meets grit, hearts are mended, and hope finds a way to flourish.

How to Trust God When Prayers Go Unanswered – Faith Over Fear

The Big Let-Down

by Jennifer Slattery on December 26, 2011November 1, 2021

It’s the day after Christmas. Some will spend the day cherishing newly made memories. Others will nurse reopened wounds–wounds that took them by surprise when out of the blue, scar tissue ripped off, ushering in feelings buried deep within. And staring at the tinsel, the wrapping paper, the newly-opened gifts, they wonder if perhaps something’s wrong with them. Where’s their yuletide joy? Their Christmas spirit?

There are as many reasons behind the holiday blues as there are those who suffer from it. Anxiety regarding financial problems, loss of loved ones, relationship difficulties, and the onset of colder, darker weather can all trigger a downward spiral. Add to that the expectations of holiday euphoria, and many are left with a tragic let-down.

Christ came that we may have abundant life–free of guilt, shame, anxiety, and bitterness. The promise is there, but we have to grab hold of it.

Having trouble finding the “joy, joy, joy, down in your heart”?

Maybe it’s buried beneath a hefty mound of baggage. Now that all your presents are unwrapped, perhaps it’s time to do some unpacking.

Join me on Internet Cafe Devotions as we talk about seemingly random behavior in light of our bulging suitcases.

(Read the article here.)

Then tomorrow come back as I post the last of my top 20 blog post finds for 2011.

A Season of Forgiveness by Edwina Cowgill

by Jennifer Slattery on December 9, 2010November 1, 2021

During the holidays, our stress levels mount and those little things that used to be easily overlooked suddenly weigh on us like heavily-decked barbells. Family members gather in closely confined areas, bringing with them their quirks, inconsiderate tendencies, and baggage–a recipe for disaster which is fueled to explosion if we bring with us even the slightest hint of unresolved anger. That comment Aunt Bertha made ten years back? Yep, out it pops, swirling through our memory, along with all those sarcastic jokes that fly off Uncle George’s tongue.

So, what can you do? Hide away in your nice, safe, non-confrontational closet. (Oh, that sounds so nice! J/K. Almost) How about you drop a few suitcases and make the effort to travel light? This season, add a dash of forgiveness to your plate. (You might also be interested in an article Bruce Hebel wrote for Reflections.)

Today’s devotion comes from Edwina Cowgill. As you read over her wise words, ask God to show you festering wounds that need amputating by the scalpel of forgiveness.

* * *

A few weeks ago, a dear friend made a comment that caused me to stop and think. She said, “It’s a season of forgiveness, a season of friendship, a season of new starts. One act of forgiveness can change the outcome of a life.”

I believe there are certain “levels” of offense. Before you scream in protest “An offense is an offense is an offense…” let me say that this is not based on Scripture but on years of observing and counseling people:

Level 1: Offenses of No Significance: An example of this would be the “grocery cart bump,” where someone who is in a great hurry accidently bumps another person’s cart. The bumper says to the bumpee “excuse me” and most normal, sane people will answer “no problem” or some other acknowledgement and life goes on.

Level 2: Offenses of Minor Significance: After you have worked for hours and hours in your yard, your neighbor, who just happens to be married to the Chairperson of the Landscaping Committee for the homeowners association, wins the “Yard of the Month Award” and rubs your nose in that fact.

Level 3: Significant Offenses: Perhaps a significant offense would be when a dear friend, or a spouse makes an extremely unkind remark about you. Extremely unkind.

Level 4: Offenses of Major Significance: With this level, begin the wounds that usually change a person’s life. A spouse leaves his/her family for another person. A teenager rebels and begins a life of addiction.

Level 5: Offenses of Grave Significance: Wounds of grave significance are usually wounds that are inflicted on a person in their early years as a toddler or young school age child. These wounds are normally caused by a parent or a major caregiver in the life of a child. Sometimes, these wounds are buried by the child and forgotten until something later in life triggers the memory of that wound. For that adult, it is as if their entire body is being ripped in two and everything they thought was buried has been dug up. These types of wounds range from abuse to absentee parent(s) to never being accepted and loved unconditionally by one or both parents.

If there are levels of offense, then it would stand to reason that there are levels of forgiveness. Right? Wrong. Forgiveness is forgiveness. And as Christians, we are commanded to forgive. It’s not an option. And it’s serious business. Jesus said, “For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” (Matthew 6:14-15)

I don’t think the language can get much clearer than that! If we forgive people who offend and hurt us, God will forgive us our offenses. If we don’t forgive people who offend and hurt us, God will not forgive us our offenses.

There’s not a cap on the number of times we are to forgive. Again in the book of Matthew, we read this: Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven.” (Matthew 18:21-22).

Someone is probably thinking, “So if I forgive someone 490 times (70 x 7) and they offend me for the 491st time, I don’t have to forgive them? No. Jesus used those numbers to illustrate the fact that there is no limit on the number of times we must forgive those who offend us.

But what if the wound is one of those of grave significance? Must we forgive that person too? Absolutely. If we want our sins forgiven, we must forgive those who sinned against us. But how can one forgive the person who wounded them so deeply that their entire life was affected by that wound?

Many years ago, I heard an excellent teaching on forgiveness. The teacher had been wounded deeply. She shared that she had learned to pray “make me willing to be willing to forgive.” You see, she had learned an invaluable lesson on forgiveness. Sometimes we are not able to forgive on our own. Maybe it’s because the wound is too deep and the hurt is too great. Whatever the reason, we are not able to forgive. The Bible says that “God looks on the heart.” Even though this teacher was not able to forgive on her own, God heard her prayer of “make me willing to be willing to forgive.” He looked at her heart and knew she wanted to forgive. He had compassion and mercy on her and answered her prayer. Soon, she was able to pray, “Make me willing to forgive.” And God answered her prayer again and she reached the point of saying “I forgive….”

I’ve used this prayer myself many times in my life. I fully believe God understands and knows my heart when I pray this prayer. He knows I realize I must forgive that person but at that moment in time, I am unable to forgive on my own. Thus, I ask for His help and He answers. As I become more willing, forgiveness appears on the horizon and eventually becomes full blown in my heart.

If you have been wounded, at any level, I encourage you to begin to forgive. It may not be easy. It can be an uphill battle. Pray the “willingness” prayer. Begin to be willing to be willing to forgive. God will help you. He will walk with you every step of the way until forgiveness is full blown in your heart. With forgiveness comes healing.

Oh, yes. When is the season of forgiveness? Every day.

* * *

Edwina has written numerous articles. Many have been published on various websites including the Houston Examiner and the Midsouth Diocese of the Charismatic Episcopal Church. Her short story, “Katie’s Story: A Story of Redemption and Love” was published in 2009. A second short story, “The Front Porc” has just been published in Skinned Knees and Skate Keys. Edwina updates her blog three times a week.

She is a member of American Christian FictionWriters, Writers of Remarkable Design, and member of the Southside W.O.R.D. She is also a member f Christian Writers United, a writing group within her community. Visit Monarch Ministries to find out more about Edwina and her heart for God and women.

To repeat my normal, too-oft repeated reminder, if you like this devotion fb share it, “like” it, tweet it or leave a comment.

A Heart Laid Bare

by Jennifer Slattery on September 21, 2010November 1, 2021

Have you ever been blind-sighted by anxiety? Here you are doing something very benign, even mundane, when all of a sudden your pulse quickens and pricks of electricity shoot up your leg and bite at your spine. And you’re baffled. So you close the book you’re reading and search the back cover for some subliminal message that might have bled into the deep recesses of your mind. Nope. It’s a cozy little Christmas romance. So you put it aside and sift through your day planner. Surely you’ve missed something. Only you can’t figure out what it is. There’s no impeding deadlines, no missed meetings. For once in your conveyor-belt life, you’re actually on top of everything. Was it the extra cup of coffee you had this morning? Hormones gone awry? Maybe you’re just weird like all the rest of us neurotic, highly-emotional Americans. Or…maybe there’s something else going on.

Don’t act all spiritual and emotionally stable. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve seen the same, “deer in the headlights” look flash across too many faces to think I’m the only one with issues. My emotional dumpster might be a tad bit fuller than yours, but I know you’ve got some moldy orange peels in there somewhere. We’re sinners living in a fallen world surrounded by other sinners. Emotional baggage is part of the deal. Luckily Jesus is the ultimate garbage disposal, turning a fallen, broken sinner into a new, spring-cleaned creation saved by grace. And yet, this transformation—moving from brokenness to wholeness, from garbage-filled hearts and souls to lives illuminated by grace—isn’t a one time event. At least, not for me. It’s a lifetime process of drawing near to God, allowing Him to loving search the deep recesses of my heart and mind, removing those cancerous tumors, until only my true self remains.

I like the onion analogy, even if it is over-used. The top layer, the one we allow most people to see, is covered by this thick outer skin. When this outer layer is first peeled away, it stinks. And burns. Our eyes water as old wounds resurface, wounds we may have swallowed down so many times, we’ve forgotten they’re there. Until something happens—a look, a word, an image—to trigger those buried emotions. Only we’re not ready to dive deeper. We like living on the surface. It’s safe. It’s comfortable. So we wrap that outer skin around us even tighter, perhaps even adding another layer. And yet, all the while, we peer from beneath the skin with childlike hope, desperately crying out for freedom.

Last weekend I went to the American Christian Fiction Writers’ Conference. It was an amazing time of healing, refreshing, and encouragement. A time I almost missed. In my usual impetuous nature, I signed up for the conference right away. I knew it’d be phenomenal. Great speakers, quality classes, amazing fellowship. But as it grew closer, anxiety mounted. This baffled me. I was about to go on this wonderful spiritual retreat, and I was feeling anxious. No matter how many ways I analyzed it, I couldn’t figure out why.

Don’t worry. God showed me, in His perfect timing. He always does.

Fast-forwarding a few days: I loaded everything in my van and headed to St. Louis to meet my carpool buddies. Which meant I had four hours and ten minutes in the car. Four hours of silence, with no one to talk to but God.

Now that’s dangerous. And life-changing. (And even a little embarrassing. You’d be surprised how many concerned looks you get driving down the freeway talking to the air with mascara-filled tears streaming down your face.)

So here I am, listening to praise music and talking to God, and out comes the scalpel. God showed me the root of my anxiety, and it had to do with a wound I had suffered in the past. It was ironic, really. My pastor had talked about this “thing” a month, maybe two, previously. But at the time, I dismissed much of what he said, thinking, “Nope. That’s not me. I’m good.”

And yet, all the while God knew. But He wanted to wait until he had me alone, stuck in a car, where I couldn’t run from the truth, to show me. Where I couldn’t shove those feelings aside and busy myself with laundry or facebook or whatever else I use to drown out that still, soft voice of my Physician.

Before long, my chin puckers like a prune and tears stream down my face as I hunch over my steering wheel in an effort to see the blurred road in front of me. I can’t run. I’m in a van heading down a freeway at seventy miles per hour, scheduled to meet the rest of my party in two hours. So what do I do? I buck up and change my focus, turning my ears to the radio in a desperate attempt to shove the tumult of emotions aside.

But God wasn’t done and in His merciful grace, He would not leave this opened wound to fester. Just like a loving Physician intent on total restoration and healing, He continued His work until all traces of the tumor were removed, replaced by healthy tissue.

On the radio, Frank Peretti was talking about “wounded spirits.” The title says it all. And as I listened to him talk about some deep wounds that had sliced through his heart, leaving thick scar tissue in their wake, the deep wounds in my own heart resurfaced. By now, I was starting to clue in. I’ve walked with God long enough to know that pain is never wasted. Every tear initiated by my Father’s hand leads to increased freedom. So, instead of fighting Him, I surrendered to the pain, and let His loving arms surround me. And suddenly it all made sense. This retreat had very little do with writing or meetings. God had bigger plans. Better plans. Although I wish He would have kept them in my nice, safe little van. But no. He wasn’t done. Once the lie had been exposed and removed, He needed to pour truth in its place.

Friday night, after having spent a nice quiet day recovering from my emotional explosion on Thursday, I walked into worship excited…and apprehensive. I knew God was going to show up in a mighty way. Although it would have been nice if I’d had the forethought to bring tissue. Needing an extra-dose of security, I sat next to a very dear friend, ready to be filled afresh with the Spirit. And God held nothing back. Song after song, He poured His love into me, telling me I was there for Him, that this was our time, and that He loved me.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Again and again those words poured over me. They broke me, and healed me. Speaking to that hurting child peering behind the onion skins. Once again, the tears came. Slowly at first. My eyes blinked fast as my heart prayed, “Please, don’t make me cry. Not here. Not now.”

The first song they sang was Freedom. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And with every note, God’s love poured stronger and penetrated deeper. Then came the next one: How He loves. By now, I’m sitting in my chair, sobbing uncontrollably, tears streaming down my face, chest heaving and snot dripping from my nose. (Pretty picture, I know. Very lady-like.) My friend is sitting on my right. To my left is Joyce Hart, the president of Hartline Literary agency. Needless to say, I’m mortified, and yet, no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop crying. But Joyce didn’t judge me or condemn me. She reached out in love and rubbed my back like a mother comforting a saddened child. Or, more accurately, God reached out to me through her, reminding me that there is no condemnation in Christ Jesus. There is only love, grace, healing, and freedom.

Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.