Trust.

Such a shattered thing, once broken

Trust.

Such a simple word.
Such a shattered thing, once broken.

It is not easy to trust again when the very people who were meant to hold you—
leaders, pastors, “spiritual authority”—
were the ones who crushed you.

Even now, even with the good ones,
even with those who have proven themselves faithful,
the body remembers.

That sudden surge of adrenaline.
The tightening in the chest.
The quiet voice whispering not again
when something feels off and your heart has dared to open.
Vulnerable. Exposed.

Being betrayed by someone you gave everything to—that alone is enough to scar trust.
But standing for others who have suffered,
advocating for those still tangled in spiritual wounds,
and then feeling unheard, unseen, and quietly distrusted
by fellow pastors who seem to instinctively side with their peer—
that was the iceberg moment.
The crack beneath the waterline.

We are fragile.
We know this.

We’ve stepped onto a new ship—
safer waters, steadier hands.
And yet, how many captains promised safety before leading us into storms?

We long to trust again.
We don’t want to flinch at shadows or crumble at small triggers…
and yet sometimes we do.

That isn’t weakness.
That is trauma.
That is memory etched into bone and breath.

And to those who stay—
who see our shaking hands and pull up a chair,
who hold space for our fractured stories,
who let us stumble without judgment—

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

May this brokenness we carry carve out room for healing—
not just for us,
but for others still fighting to find solid ground
and a place they can finally exhale in safety.

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