If you’ve been hurt in church or faith spaces, you’re not alone.
If your faith feels complicated, confusing, or messy right now, you’re not alone.
As someone who worked in full-time Christian ministry for 16 years, I know firsthand that church experiences can be both deeply beautiful and deeply harmful. Both can be true at the same time.
People are imperfect in every community we belong to (myself included), so hurt can happen anywhere. But there is a unique kind of grief that comes from being wounded by fellow Christians or spiritual leaders. We expect more from one another. We assume shared values, shared commitments, shared care. We expect love shaped by the way of Jesus.
Instead, many of us have experienced Scripture used as a weapon rather than a source of life. We’ve encountered avoidance disguised as “grace,” or rigid, fear-based “truth” without love or accountability. We’ve hoped for honest, mature communication and instead been met with silence, defensiveness, or harm that was never repaired.
None of that is benign. And it leaves a mark.
Nine years ago, I left full-time ministry. In the past two years, my husband and I stepped away from evangelical spaces entirely. It has felt like grief layered upon grief — years of loss stacked on top of one another.
At times, it has felt like wandering in the wilderness, bewildered by how people reading the same Scriptures could arrive at such vastly different interpretations of Jesus and his way. It’s been painful, disorienting, and at moments, devastating. We’ve felt sadness, anger, confusion, betrayal, rejection, and even hopelessness.
Maybe you recognize yourself somewhere in that.
Maybe you’ve lost relationships you once trusted.
Maybe leaders who shaped your faith early on deeply disappointed or harmed you.
Maybe you feel disillusioned — angry at people, systems, or even God.
Maybe you can’t imagine walking into another church again.
Or maybe you’re longing for belonging but haven’t found a place that feels safe.
The grief that comes from faith spaces or people of faith is real, and it deserves to be named.
Healing is possible — but it requires honesty, safety, and the right tools.
Here are some of the things that have helped us navigate church hurt, spiritual trauma, and the grief that followed:
Acknowledge what happened and how it affected you.
You cannot heal what you refuse to feel. You can’t slap a comforting verse over deep pain and expect it to disappear. Spiritual bypassing helps no one. Healing begins with truth-telling — naming your experience without minimizing it.
Establish boundaries and allow yourself a break.
We tried to force ourselves into new faith spaces far too quickly. Instead of healing, it intensified our anger and slowed the process. Sometimes stepping away from familiar routines is exactly what creates space for God to meet us in new ways.
Separate God from the actions of people.
This can be especially difficult if you’ve experienced spiritual abuse or manipulation. But God’s character is not defined by the behavior of those who claim to represent Him.
Care for yourself and explore what brings spiritual life.
Prayer, journaling, nature, music, reading, honest conversations, and exploring new perspectives all matter. If you’ve been taught that faith must look one specific way, this can feel unsettling. But God is far bigger than the boxes we’ve built.
Find community — even if it isn’t a church.
As I slowly shared my story, I discovered I wasn’t alone. We aren’t meant to carry grief in isolation.
Seek professional support.
A licensed counselor, spiritual director, or certified Grief Recovery Specialist can help you process spiritual loss safely and effectively. I always recommend working with trained professionals — especially those outside the institution that caused the harm.
Release timelines and rigid expectations.
You may have internalized beliefs about what a “good Christian” should do or where they should belong. You may have been shamed for asking questions or exploring outside familiar frameworks. Healing requires giving yourself permission to listen for God’s voice without fear — and trusting that God is not confined to a building.
This journey is rarely neat or quick. It is tender, complex, and courageous work.
But it is possible to move through faith-related grief without losing your faith in God or your faith in humanity.
You don’t have to rush.
You don’t have to pretend.
And you don’t have to walk this alone.
Be compassionate to yourself as you go.