I wish they understood how much I needed them, how hurt, troubled, lonely and spiritually vulnerable I was and how their silence built a wall that separates us. I wish they understood how sorry I am that I didn't realize they needed to see my bruises to believe there were abuse issues. Most of all, I wish they understood how much they could have helped, how desperately I longed for someone to pray with, someone to touch, to talk with, to hear my pain. Not acknowledging my presence and tears as I sat by them in the pew pierced my soul so that it is now safer to worship at home in front of the TV. I still need to hear from them.
The rest of this article is only available to subscribers.
© 2013 Augsburg Fortress, Publishers