Good morning, Women Anchored In Hope.
Coming from the painful experience of divorce, I’ve seen firsthand the deep brokenness it inflicts, not only on the couple but on the children who get caught in the middle. It’s a wound that runs deep, leaving scars on everyone involved. The heartache, the shattered dreams, and the impact on your family are real, and they must be acknowledged.
But there’s another aspect to this that we rarely talk about: the danger of walking into a marriage without having received healing from past pain. It’s so tempting to believe the myth that our spouse will complete us, or that together we will heal each other’s wounds. It’s a romantic idea, but it’s also a dangerous one – and Andre and I carry the scars of this thinking.
The truth is, that two broken people coming together without healing create a broken family. Unresolved pain, trust issues, and the baggage of the past or previous marriage will inevitably seep into the new relationship, no matter how much love you have for each other. We cannot rely on another person to make us whole. Only God can do that work in us.
Marriage is a beautiful covenant, but it’s not a fix for the brokenness we carry. If we don’t address that brokenness, it will quietly but powerfully shape the new relationship, repeating cycles of hurt and disappointment.
Healing is vital before we step into marriage. It’s about allowing God to mend our hearts, restore our trust, and redefine our worth—not in the eyes of a new partner, but in His. Only then can we step into a marriage with a heart that is whole and ready to love in the way God intended.
As we work through this series on Marriage—its promises, and its challenges—let’s be honest about the importance of healing and wholeness. We must give this part of the journey its rightful place in our conversation if we want to build families that reflect God’s love, grace, and restoration.
On your wedding day, you look into each other’s eyes, full of hope, promises, and the belief that love will conquer all. The world feels like it’s at your feet, and the bond you share seems unbreakable. But as time passes, the first blow comes unexpectedly. It starts small—something we might brush off as insignificant. Maybe it’s a sharp comment, a moment of frustration, or a bit of humiliation that doesn’t seem too serious at first. A raised voice here, a little shove there. We tell ourselves it’s nothing, just a rough patch, something every couple goes through.
But the truth is, these seemingly small moments plant seeds that can grow into something far more damaging. What began as a thoughtless remark can turn into a pattern—words spoken in anger that cut deeper each time. The raised voice that once startled now becomes a familiar sound, and the occasional shove becomes a sign of escalating frustration. We convince ourselves it’s just part of the struggles of marriage, but it slowly chips away at the foundation of trust and love.
As the blows continue, the damage becomes harder to ignore. What may have started in private—behind closed doors—spills out into public. Humiliating words are spoken in front of friends or family, and the hurt is no longer just between husband and wife; it affects everyone around them. And then the children, who were once innocent bystanders, become part of the collateral damage. They hear the painful words, they feel the tension, and soon, they too are wounded by the very people meant to protect them.
These moments, which we once excused as “not so serious,” begin to take their toll, not just on the marriage but on the entire family. The children, fragile and impressionable, absorb the pain. They may not understand why, but they feel the weight of it. The arguments, the hurtful words, the raised voices—all of it creates an environment where love feels unsafe, and trust is replaced with fear.
This is how brokenness creeps into a marriage—slowly, often unnoticed, until it’s too late. We must recognize these moments for what they are: early warning signs that, if left unchecked, can destroy a family from the inside out.
In those moments of hurt, pride steps in. You justify the pain you inflict, thinking, “They deserve this.” And so, the cycle begins—each wound met with another, the distance growing, as mercy fades. We forget that, in truth, there is no score to settle. Jesus took it all—every hurt, every betrayal, every ounce of pride—and nailed it to the cross. He paid each debt, yet we still act as though we are owed something.
“He himself bore our sins in his body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed.”
– 1 Peter 2:24
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.” —1 Corinthians 13:4-5
Today, as the 50-year-old version of myself, I’ve come to realize something that took me years to fully grasp—I took such a long time to mature into the Christian I am today. If I could go back and speak to my younger self, there is so much I would want to change. I wish I had given forgiveness more freely, that I had lived with more dignity, and that I had embraced grace sooner. But the truth is, I can’t go back. That time has passed, and the choices I made—good and bad—are written into my history.
What I do have is today. I have this better version of myself, a woman who has learned from her past and has grown into a more mature Christian. I understand now that life is not just about being a wife, a daughter, or a mother—roles that are significant but not the sum of who I am. I need to live with dignity as a woman, created in the image of God, reflecting His grace in every aspect of my life.
In my moments of hurt, when pride swells up and forgiveness feels out of reach, I’ve learned to turn my eyes to the cross. It’s there that I find the strength to lay down my pride, to forgive, and to extend the grace that I’ve been given time and time again.
We often forget that grace isn’t just for the big moments—it’s for the small ones too. It’s for the times when we’re tempted to hold onto bitterness, to nurse old wounds, or to let resentment grow. But in those very moments, we have the opportunity to reflect Christ. And in doing so, something incredible happens. The wounds that once separated us—whether between friends, family, or even within ourselves—begin to heal.
So while I can’t change my past, I can choose to live this day, this moment, as the woman God is shaping me to be. A woman who values dignity, who forgives, and who offers grace as freely as it was given to her. That is my prayer for myself and for every woman reading this—that we live as reflections of Christ, healed and whole, moving forward with purpose and grace.
“Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” —Colossians 3:13
Heavenly Father,
Thank You for the gift of this day and for the journey that has brought me to this moment. As I reflect on my past and the lessons learned, I ask for Your forgiveness for the times I’ve fallen short—times when I’ve allowed pride to overshadow grace and hurt to cloud my heart.
Help me to embrace the better version of myself that You are shaping. Teach me to live with dignity as a woman created in Your image, fully aware of my worth and the beauty of Your grace in my life.
In moments of hurt, remind me of the cross and the incredible sacrifice You made for me. Give me the strength to lay down my pride and extend forgiveness, just as You have extended it to me. Help me to heal the wounds that separate me from others and from the fullness of life You desire for me.
May I reflect Christ in every aspect of my life, nurturing relationships with love, compassion, and understanding. Let my actions and words be a testament to Your love and grace, shining brightly for all to see.
Thank You for Your unending love and for the opportunity to grow in You each day. I trust that with Your guidance, I can move forward with purpose and grace.
In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.
