Finding a Safe Place
Healing Begins With Safety
Healing doesn't begin with striving. It begins with discovering that you are finally safe enough to be fully known and deeply loved by the Good Shepherd.
"The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul."
— Psalm 23:1–3 (NLT)
He was referred to my office by his pastor after leaving the police station.
It was our first meeting.
After introducing himself, he looked at me and quietly said, "I was sexually abused by multiple people before I turned eighteen. It wasn't only men. I've struggled with sexual addiction ever since. I'm in my thirties now. I gave my life to Christ a year ago, but this is the one area where I still feel trapped. My childhood keeps calling me back to the ways I learned to cope. I've been married for eleven years. We have children. I need help."
As I listened, I noticed he had mentioned the police station.
"What happened?" I asked gently.
"I relapsed a couple of weeks ago. It ended with someone putting a gun in my mouth and threatening to kill me."
For a moment, the room became very still.
"My goodness, brother," I finally said. "I'm thankful you're sitting here with me today."
"So am I," he replied. "My pastor told me about the work you do with men who were abused. I never imagined there was a place where I could talk honestly about my story—or about how I struggle with my faith."
As he spoke, I found myself thinking, this was never God's intention for this man's life.
Nor was it His intention for yours.
Nor was it for mine.
From the beginning, God created us to grow in places where we were known, protected, delighted in, and loved. We were meant to discover that our voice mattered, that relationships could be trusted, and that home was a place where our souls could rest.
For many of us who survived childhood sexual abuse, that safety was stolen.
Instead of learning trust, we learned survival. Instead of learning to rest, we learned to stay alert, and instead of believing we were loved, we often came to believe we were alone.
Even years later, our minds and bodies continue searching for danger. We scan conversations, relationships, churches, and even our homes, trying to determine whether we are safe. Living this way is exhausting, and it makes healing difficult.
One of the greatest gifts God gives us on our healing journey isn't immediate answers—it is a safe place.
Sometimes that place begins with one trusted friend.
Sometimes it begins with a support group.
Sometimes it begins in a counselor's office.
And always, it begins with Him.
For some survivors, trusting God feels nearly impossible. If our abuser was a parent, a pastor, a church leader, or someone who used God's name while harming us, His name can become tangled with our pain. We may know the truth about God with our minds while struggling to believe it in our hearts.
Yet God is remarkably patient.
He never asks us to pretend.
He never tells us to hurry.
He welcomes our questions, our tears, our confusion, and even our anger.
He already knows every chapter of our story.
He knows every memory that still startles us.
He knows every way we've learned to survive.
And still, He invites us closer.
As we slowly learn to trust Him, something beautiful begins to happen. We discover that God is not like those who wounded us. He is gentle where they were harsh, faithful where they were unsafe, and present where they abandoned us.
The Shepherd described in Psalm 23 never drives His sheep.
He leads them.
He brings them to green pastures.
He walks beside still waters.
He restores their souls.
I find it interesting that restoration doesn't begin with striving. It begins with safety.
Perhaps that is why so many survivors struggle to heal. We keep trying harder while our hearts are still wondering whether they are safe enough to rest.
Healing isn't simply about learning new behaviors. It is discovering, one step at a time, that we are finally safe enough to be fully known and deeply loved.
My prayer for us as survivors is that we would find those safe places—people who reflect the heart of Christ, communities where shame loses its grip, and relationships where truth and grace walk hand in hand.
If you're a man carrying the weight of childhood sexual abuse, I want you to know that you don't have to walk this journey alone. That's why we created Renew, a Christ-centered healing study designed specifically for men who are ready to process their story in a safe, honest, and biblical community. Whether you're taking your first step or continuing the work God has already begun, there is a place for you.
Most of all, I pray you discover just how deeply you are loved by the Good Shepherd.
Because the safest place you will ever find is not a location.
It is a Person—Jesus Christ.
Reflection
Where do you feel safest today?
Is there someone with whom you can be completely honest about your story?
What would it look like to take one small step toward believing that the Good Shepherd is leading you beside still waters instead of asking you to carry your burdens alone?
Prayer
Father, many of us have forgotten what safety feels like. The places that should have protected us became the places that wounded us. Teach us, one step at a time, to trust Your heart. Lead us beside still waters. Restore what has been broken. Give us the courage to walk with others who will speak truth with grace and remind us that we are no longer alone. Thank You for being the Shepherd who never leaves His sheep. In Jesus' name, amen.
