By Rachael Tvrdy
Director of Family Life and Discipleship
Think of the struggle you have faced most in life – your “thorn in your side,” the thing that you bring to prayer again and again. We all have one petition that seems to be at the forefront of our minds and hearts.
In my work in the Family Life Office, I encounter the pain of many different life situations. Whenever we are dealing with relationships, you inevitably encounter the complexity of human suffering. And what I have seen, time and time again, is that where we are wounded is often the very area we are called to serve. Henri J.M. Nouwen explores this idea in his book “The Wounded Healer,” describing that only a person who has acknowledged and grown from their own suffering can accompany others there. Meaning: the areas of our greatest struggle can also be the very areas where we have a particular anointing or effectiveness to build up the Kingdom of God.
I know it sounds counterintuitive, but if you took an honest inventory of your own life, you may notice that the areas you endured the greatest trials are often the places God has brought forth unexpected fruit. There is no suffering beyond Christ’s reach.
Consider a woman who has experienced an abortion, and after a journey of healing, begins accompanying other women in post-abortive healing or sidewalk ministry. Or the person who has experienced a tremendous amount of loss in life eventually facilitates grief support groups. Truly, God is a redeemer, and the suffering we carry often becomes redeemed through the transformation that comes from it.
Many people carry wounds they did not choose: childhood experiences that shaped their understanding of love, grief that has never fully been acknowledged, betrayal that makes trust difficult, or patterns of relating that they struggle to understand. These wounds do not make us incapable of holiness, but they can affect how we participate in the life of the Church.
Healing is not the same as holiness, but it can increase our capacity to live in greater union with God and neighbor.
This matters especially in our families and communities. The wounds we have can shape the way we relate to the people closest to us. Fear can make us controlling. Shame can make us defensive. Past betrayals can make relationships feel unsafe. Our parishes are filled with people who are silently struggling. Some are carrying the effects of difficult marriages, grieving losses, fighting addictions, navigating health/financial challenges, or trying to build healthy families without having experienced those things themselves. They do not need a Church that expects them to have no issues. They need a Church that offers the grace of the sacraments, accompanies people, and offers a real sense of belonging.
We may sincerely desire to live well, while struggling to understand why certain situations keep repeating in our lives. We can’t begin to change patterns in our lives unless we are willing to recognize them. Naming our weaknesses is the beginning of accountability, which is the gateway toward greater Christian maturity and freedom. The goal is not to become perfectly healed before we attempt to love others. That won’t happen this side of Heaven. The goal is to become increasingly free to love: to move from fear toward trust, from defensiveness toward humility, and from isolation toward communion.
Christ does not wait for us to become whole before he calls us to be saints. He meets us in our brokenness and invites us to follow Him, right where we are, often in the areas we feel weakest.
The Church needs wounded healers—people who have allowed Christ to enter into their own wounds, and are unafraid to encounter others there with grace, empathy, and vulnerability.
Holiness is not about pretending or striving to get it all together. It is about allowing Christ to enter every part of our lives, including the places we would rather hide, so that we can have the capacity to offer the love for which we were made.
Perhaps one of the most important things we can do is take that invitation seriously: to seek healing where we need it, to accompany others in places we ourselves have suffered, and to trust that God’s grace is at work not only in our striving, but also in our weaknesses.
I’d like to leave you with a prompt to take to prayer this week: “Where have I encountered the most suffering in my life, and how might God be inviting me to experience redemption through it?”
