You’re stupid. You’re dumb. You’ll never amount to anything. Those words have haunted me for decades.
Hearing them was crippling enough, but my abuser didn’t stop there. He molested and terrorized me into silence, threatening to kill everyone in the house if I told.
I finally found the courage to tell my mother, but her reaction was not what I thought it would be. My stepfather’s abuse subsided, but now my mother treated me with a silent, destructive rejection.
I often wondered if she was mad at me for what her husband had done. Did she think it was my fault? She never came out and blamed me, but her cold indifference resulted in deep feelings of rejection.
Abandoned emotionally, I was left to deal with the wreckage alone. I was abused at home and bullied at school, and as a result, I grew up feeling like there was no safe place for me.
Satan set out to steal, kill, and destroy my destiny early in life (John 10:10). By working through people, circumstances, and abuse, the deceiver filled my heart and mind with spoken and unspoken lies. Like every innocent child, I believed and took to heart what the people I loved and trusted told me.
The weight of those invisible wounds remained, silently shaping the way I saw myself and affecting how I related to the world around me. Depressed and imprisoned by destructive thoughts, I survived my teen years and limped into adulthood, carrying all my unhealed wounds and unresolved trauma with me.
I was desperate for someone to love me. I met a young man and fell deeply for him. Before long, I found out I was pregnant.
A doctor suggested I have an abortion because I was single, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. I didn’t know the Lord at that time, but somehow I had a deep conviction that the life I carried was a gift. I became a single mom at 21.
The relationship with my child’s father eventually ended, which deepened the wounds of rejection and abandonment that I was already struggling with.
While my daughter was still very young, I attended a revival service where I gave my heart to the Lord, and that’s when my spiritual journey began.
Eventually, I met Jim. He loved the Lord, and we were married in 1990. It should have been the beginning of a promising new life, but right away I was attacked with dark periods of depression. Even on our honeymoon, I found myself in a pit of darkness that bewildered both me and Jim.
Despite the challenges of my fluctuating mental health, God blessed us with the joy of a family. Within our first five years of marriage, we welcomed two more beautiful daughters. All three of our children were gifts from God who brought light to even my darkest seasons.
Jim was a wonderful father who led our family well. Together, we built a strong Christian foundation in our home. Our daughters all gave their lives to the Lord and began their journey with the Him in their youth.
We were a family rooted in faith and serving in ministry, but all was not well.
My depression often caused me to withdraw from those I loved. I did my best to live out God’s Word during these low periods of withdrawal, but my daughters didn’t know what was wrong and thought I was angry with them.
Without realizing it, I created the same generational wounds in my children that I had so longed to receive healing for.
I tried desperately to hide my pain, perfecting the art of pretending everything was fine. But behind every achievement and every smile was a trembling child, longing for relief from the despair that had carved itself into every area of my being.
I desperately wanted to be free of the pain and turmoil. I was a broken woman in need of healing, and the only place I was going to find it was at the foot of the cross. I continued to cry out silently to the Lord without ever asking for help from those around me.
I was so tired of feeling trapped in my emotions. I was a prisoner in my own mind. I constantly fought thoughts of failure and what-ifs. These destructive thoughts attacked my mind, resulting in a demonic stronghold. I was in constant mental warfare. “Lord,” I cried, “what in the world is wrong with me?”
The only place I found any relief was in reading and listening to God’s Word. As I immersed myself daily, a quiet truth began to emerge from the pages: I was not alone in my struggle. God was with me and had been from the beginning.
The roots of rejection, toxic thoughts, and chronic depression that had entangled my soul had to be exposed. They were holding me back, keeping me from stepping into the purposes Christ had died to give me. And God let me know that in no uncertain terms.
I was praying at a retreat with some friends in 2018 when I heard God speak to me. “It’s time to get up,” He said. I quickly shared what I’d heard, hoping to encourage them, but deep down, I knew the Lord was speaking directly to me.
My encounter was much like that of the man by the pool of Bethesda in John 5:6–9. There I sat, in a pit of shame, depression, and self-pity. The Lord lovingly but firmly showed me my options: I could stay and be miserable or get up and walk in freedom. I couldn’t do both.
I got up and embarked on a journey of healing with Him that I am still on today.
One morning as I wept, the Spirit of the Lord said to me, “This is no more than sorrow of heart.” Where had I heard that before? I searched the scriptures and landed at Nehemiah 2:2. Like Nehemiah, I prayed to the God of heaven and asked Him to show me what to do.
He answered by revealing the soul wound I carried, the result of the childhood trauma I had endured. Those emotional scars had ruled my thoughts, behaviors, and relationships all my life. Just like a physical wound would have needed attention, my soul wound did too. Otherwise, it would continue to wreak havoc. That day, the Lord began revealing the root of my pain even as He promised to bind up those wounds and heal me (Psalm 147:3).
While sitting in church one day, I had this thought: “What if the Lord has already set me free, and I have been believing a lie?”
It made perfect sense! The enemy had fed me lies when I was a little girl, convincing me that I was dumb and stupid and that I would never amount to anything. I had accepted those lies and let them rule my life. There is power in agreement, even agreement with lies.
As I continued to meditate on the truth of God’s Word, specifically what God says about me, things started to change. Instead of trying to change my behaviors, I let the Lord renew my mind. The healing of my soul wound was underway.
But healing isn’t an event. It’s an ongoing journey. Just as soon as I would think my healing was complete, God would place His finger on yet another layer of buried wounds that desperately needed a touch from Him.
My healing journey led me to a confession: “Yes, I was abused. I was traumatized and rejected. But I will not live in defeat and pain anymore. I was a victim, but I will no longer live with a victim mentality. That’s not who I am!”
The beauty of my healing journey is that it’s generational. Every step I take toward wholeness restores me, but it also bridges the distance my depression and unhealthy emotions created between me and my daughters.
Wounds that are not healed and transformed can be transferred to our children. They have a generational impact. My parents hurt me out of their woundedness. I did the same to my children. My prayer now is that as my girls see God’s healing work in me, my life will become a legacy of hope, revealing God’s grace to them and their children.
Finding forgiveness for my perpetrator, my mom, and myself played a major part in my healing process. As much as I desired grace and mercy from God and others, I had to learn to extend those same things to those who had hurt me.
Transformation isn’t easy. Every day, I have to take authority over my thought life. I have to remind myself what the Word says rather than listen to the lies the devil still whispers. I have to guard my life and my tongue, breaking all the agreements I once made with the lies (Proverbs 18:21).
Does it get tough sometimes? Absolutely! But I’ve learned to lean into Him for strength to endure. I am so thankful that God loved me enough not to leave me broken and wounded.
I am still a work in progress. I still shut down sometimes. Being transparent hurts, but when that happens, I remind myself that God is faithful to complete the work He started in me, and I trust that He is continuing to write my story (Philippians 1:6).
God wants to finish the work He started in you too. He’s still writing your story. He hasn’t put the pen down! What you think is the end of your story is instead just the beginning of a new chapter. Continue to walk with Him. Choose to get up daily, rise from your place of pain, and trust the One who created you.
You are never alone in this journey—God’s love will relentlessly pursue you to lead you out of darkness (Colossians 1:13–14). Grab His hand and, with His help, get up and step into the light of His Son. There, you will find healing and restoration.
God can make all things new (2 Corinthians 5:17)—including you. His light will shine through your formerly broken places and light up another person’s path to healing (2 Corinthians 4:7–8). This process will continue for generations to come.
Reneé Cairns is an ordained minister who ministers to young women who have suffered similar trauma. She and her husband Jim founded Broken Chains, Transformed Lives, where they help hurting people find freedom in Christ. She has traveled from North Carolina to Trinidad to Tanzania, ministering the Word and seeing lives transformed by the power of the blood of Jesus Christ.
