Reflections on Healing from Trauma

I grew up as the child of a traveling evangelist. My mother, one of the kindest people I know, hid a lot beneath her graceful facade. Behind that exterior was a desperate need to maintain the illusion of a perfect life. Reality, however, was quite different. The man who preached with conviction was not the same one who experienced abuse at home, inflicted by my mother.

Our family had a rule: keep my father’s abuse a secret. It was imperative that no one found out. I vividly recall an incident at a camp meeting when someone questioned my mother about her black eyes. I was young, barely able to reach her elbow, and filled with dread. Would our family’s secrets come to light? Before she could respond, my father intervened, saying, “She fell in the shower.” Hearing him lie so shamelessly left me shaking with disbelief and fury. I couldn’t stand watching my father spin cowardly tales to protect his image, while my mother pretended she was just a clumsy wife. As a child, I had no idea how to cope with that situation.

Before hitting my teenage years, I became a whirlwind of reckless choices. In my mind, both my earthly father and my heavenly Father were antagonists in my story. By the age of 11 or 12, I was already experimenting with smoking, stealing, and drinking.

As a teenager, my nights devolved into a blur of substance abuse—cocaine, alcohol, marijuana, and, ultimately, painkillers. Then, at 17, I was introduced to crystal meth, which marked a new low. It felt surreal. How could I make such a damaging choice? I realized I had constructed my life around trauma, anger, and addiction.

In the midst of darkness, one night around 3 AM, I had a profound encounter with Jesus. That night, I fully surrendered my faith to Him. I plan to elaborate on this transformation and how Jesus changed my life in my upcoming book, “Radically Restored: How Knowing Jesus Heals Our Wounds.”

This belief fuels my conviction that God still works miracles. I trust in the same Jesus who, with a mere command, cast out demons and healed the sick (Matthew 8:16). Yet, the deep scars left by trauma—especially when inflicted by someone we were supposed to trust—those wounds are often the hardest to heal.

When asked about healing from emotional wounds, many Christians may respond with a cliché: “Yes, and God won’t!” We often want to reassure others, and maybe even ourselves, that our faith is unwavering. Yet, as believers, we sometimes hesitate to voice difficult questions, fearing they may be unwelcome.

From my perspective, authentic faith embraces questions without doubting God’s essence. This may seem contradictory, but it is not. God desires our authenticity; we must trust Him through the pain. When we do, He unveils the chains that bind us, allowing us to lay them at the foot of the cross and walk away free.

Of course, that isn’t easy—especially when those chains come from people who were once sources of safety. My unresolved trauma felt like a prison, and even after the abuse stopped, my father’s silence about it haunted us. Though he was physically present during my teen years, he was distant, becoming more of a faded background figure than the monster I once knew. This gap created a new wound.

I sometimes wonder if my father’s distance stemmed from believing he was unworthy of being my father due to his past actions. Maybe he refrained from discussing his abuse out of shame. I can’t know for sure, but I do know he lived in denial.

But the truth remains: it happened. At some point, what we try to conceal will inevitably be revealed. Jesus said, “For everything that is hidden will come to light, and every secret will be brought to light” (Mark 4:22 NIV). That can seem daunting, but it doesn’t have to be. If we’re willing to confront our hidden pain—confess, repent, and make amends—we can begin to diminish its power.

Sadly, my father couldn’t rectify his mistakes, leaving him trapped in guilt and shame. If you can relate, know that Jesus loves you and longs to heal every broken part of your being. This promise isn’t limited to hurt children; it extends to anyone who has caused harm. Jesus places value on healing both the wounds we carry and the damage we’ve inflicted on others. True healing and freedom often await us on the other side of repentance.

These reflections are inspired by my book, “RADICALLY RESTORED.” Copyright © Stephen McWhirter, 2026, published by Zondervan.