1 in 10 children will experience sexual abuse before their 18th birthday. The wounds of sexual abuse run deep—shaking our sense of safety, distorting our identity, and making it hard to give or receive love. But healing is possible. In this devotional, Ginia Bishop, author of Grace to Start Over, shares her journey of healing from childhood sexual abuse. With tender reflections and biblical truth, each day offers hope for those learning to trust, feel safe, and believe again. God’s love can restore what trauma tried to steal.
Ginia Bishop
Day 1
Scriptures: 2 Samuel 13:20, 2 Samuel 13:1
This devotional contains honest reflections on childhood sexual abuse and the emotional impact of trauma in marriage. If you’ve experienced abuse or are in the process of healing, please take care as you read. Give yourself permission to pause, pray, or seek support if needed. You are not alone, and you are deeply loved.
When the Past Finds You
Are you silently suffering in your marriage, and you don’t even know why?
You walked down the aisle full of love, joy, and hope. You had dreams of building a beautiful life together. But somewhere along the way, things shifted. You began to pull away. You didn’t laugh like you used to. Touch made you tense. Intimacy felt more like pressure than connection.
And maybe, like me, you wondered…
“What happened to the woman I used to be?”
After my wedding, my past started seeping into my present in ways I couldn’t control. I began having nightmares where I was fighting for my life. I couldn’t explain the anxiety I felt. I flinched at affection, and my joy faded into silence. Where I was once fun, playful, and openhearted, I became guarded, reactive, and confused.
Eventually, I said yes to counseling.
That decision changed everything. Because it was there that I uncovered a truth I had never spoken aloud:
I had been sexually abused as a child.
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t even know how to process it. For a while, it felt like everything was falling apart. But in reality, God was beginning to put the pieces back together.
Tamar, a woman in the Bible, also knew what it felt like to be taken advantage of by someone who should have protected her.
Her half-brother, Amnon, claimed to love her. But what he did wasn’t love—it was lust, control, and violence. Tamar cried out. She resisted. She tried to reason with him. But he took what he wanted and discarded her when he was done.
Scripture says, “Tamar lived a desolate life in her brother Absalom’s house” (2 Samuel 13:20).
Her voice was silenced.
Her pain was dismissed.
And her trauma lingered over the years.
But, Friend, hear this:
Your story doesn’t have to end the way Tamar’s did.
You don’t have to live desolate.
You don’t have to stay stuck in shame or pain.
You don’t have to keep pretending everything is okay.
There is healing on the other side of honesty.
There is peace on the other side of pain.
And there is a God who sees everything—even the things you haven’t been able to say out loud.
You are not too broken.
You are not too late.
And you are not alone.
Reflection:
What part of your past might still be speaking into your present? Have you created space for God to help you process it with honesty, support, and grace?
Prayer:
Father, I don’t want to carry this silently anymore. You know what happened—even the things I haven’t fully remembered or understood. Help me be brave enough to face the truth, and gentle enough with myself to receive Your healing. Lead me toward restoration. I trust You to walk with me through it. Amen.
Day 2
Scriptures: 2 Samuel 20:12-13, Isaiah 61:7
The Weight of Shame
“How could I get rid of my shame and disgrace?”
These were Tamar’s words after being violated by her half-brother. Her voice trembled with the weight of what had just been taken from her. And I can’t help but hear the echo of that same question in the hearts of so many women, including myself.
“God, how do I move forward after this?”
“Will I ever feel whole again?”
“What’s wrong with me?”
When I began to confront my past abuse, it wasn’t just the memories that haunted me—it was the shame.
A shame so heavy it sank into my bones.
A shame that convinced me I was the problem.
A shame that made me believe I had to earn love… or settle for pain.
I was grieving what had happened, but I was also grieving what it had stolen—my sense of safety, my joy, my openness, and most painfully, my sense of worth.
Brené Brown once said:
“Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love, belonging, and connection.”
And that’s exactly what trauma can do to you.
When we’ve been abused, especially as children or young women, it’s not uncommon to internalize what someone else did and make it about ourselves. We begin to believe lies like:
- “I’m dirty.”
- “I should’ve known better.”
- “It must’ve been my fault.”
- “No one could truly love me if they knew.”
And then, we carry those lies into marriage.
Shame doesn’t just live in our minds. It lives in our bodies, in our relationships, in the way we flinch when someone reaches for us, or retreat when love feels too vulnerable.
It affects how we see ourselves—and how we receive our husband’s love.
Even when they are gentle.
Even when they are kind.
Even when they are safe.
It can be hard to receive intimacy when shame has convinced you that you don’t deserve it.
But Friend, let me speak this over you today:
What happened to you was not your fault.
Your body is not broken.
Your story is not shameful.
You are not unworthy.
God never called you by your shame—He calls you by your name.
Isaiah 61:7 says,“Instead of your shame you will receive a double portion, and instead of disgrace you will rejoice in your inheritance…”
You don’t have to carry what was never yours to hold.
Reflection:
Have you been carrying shame that doesn’t belong to you? How has it impacted the way you see yourself or receive love from others?
Prayer:
Father, I’ve believed lies about myself for far too long. I’ve let shame tell me who I am. But today, I bring it all to You. I want to see myself through Your eyes—whole, worthy, and deeply loved. Help me release the disgrace and cling to the grace You offer instead. Amen.
Day 3
Scriptures: Hebrews 4:15-16, Ephesians 6:12
The Real Enemy
When you’re healing from childhood sexual abuse—or any kind of deep trauma—it’s easy to feel like your spouse is the enemy.
You might get frustrated when they don’t say the right thing. You might feel hurt when they pull away or shut down. You might feel unseen or unsupported—even when they’re trying their best.
I’ve been there.
There were moments I expected my husband to read my mind, to carry my pain, to always say the perfect words. But the truth?
He was doing the best he could… and so was I.
We were two broken people trying to figure out how to build something whole.
Healing from trauma is messy. It takes more than love—it takes communication, patience, and grace. It’s learning to say things like:
- “I’m having a tough day.”
- “I need a little space right now.”
- “I don’t need you to fix it—I just need you to be here.”
But in my pain, I didn’t always know how to say those things. Instead, I went silent. I shut down. I built invisible walls around my heart—and then felt abandoned when he didn’t know how to climb them.
And maybe, friend, you’ve done the same.
But here’s what I had to learn: My husband is not the enemy.
The real enemy is the shame that tries to suffocate us.
The real enemy is the fear that whispers, “You’ll never be whole.”
The real enemy is the trauma that convinces us we’re too broken to be loved.
Ephesians 6 reminds us that we don’t wrestle against flesh and blood. We’re not fighting our spouse—we’re fighting what’s fighting against our healing.
This is spiritual. And the enemy would love nothing more than to drive a wedge between two people God has joined together—especially when healing is happening.
That’s why we have to put on the full armor of God.
We need truth to silence the lies.
We need peace to guard our hearts.
We need faith to fight back when the past resurfaces.
And we need the Word of God to remind us: we are not alone in this battle.
Friend, if you’re struggling to connect with your spouse right now, take a breath. Ask God to help you see clearly. Trauma is loud—but the Holy Spirit is louder. And He will guide you with wisdom, compassion, and peace.
Let your prayers be louder than your pain.
Let your love be stronger than your fear.
And remember: you are both on the same team.
Reflection:
In what ways have you misdirected your pain toward your spouse? Ask God to help you see the real source of the struggle—and to strengthen your marriage as you heal together.
Prayer:
God, sometimes I don’t know how to express what I need. Sometimes I feel like I’m at war—with myself, my past, and even the person I love most. Help me remember that my spouse is not my enemy. Open the lines of communication. Fill our home with grace. And teach us how to fight together instead of apart. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Day 4
Scriptures: Isaiah 61:3, 2 Samuel 13:21, Psalms 34:18
When They Didn’t Protect You
Tamar had every reason to believe that someone would fight for her.
She was the daughter of the king.
She lived in the palace.
Her father had power, authority, and influence.
But when Amnon, her half-brother, violated her, David—her own father—got angry… and did nothing.
No justice.
No comfort.
No protection.
Just silence.
And if we’re honest, that silence is familiar.
Maybe your father stayed quiet too.
Maybe your mother looked the other way.
Maybe someone you trusted to protect you minimized your pain… or dismissed it altogether.
That silence can be deafening.
And the wounds it causes run deep.
Sometimes the pain isn’t just from what happened—it’s from who let it happen:
- Who saw your suffering and said nothing.
- Who turned away.
- Who could’ve done more… but didn’t.
I remember feeling that kind of pain. Eventually, that frustration found its way to God.
“Where were You, Lord?”
“Why didn’t You stop it?”
“How could a good Father let something like this happen to His daughter?”
Those questions felt too heavy to ask out loud… but they burned in my heart.
Maybe you’ve asked them too.
If that’s you, hear this: God is not afraid of your honest questions.
He’s not offended by your tears.
He’s not distant from your pain.
He’s the only One who knows exactly how it hurts and how to heal every part of it.
What happened to you was never His will. Your pain was never His plan. But He was there.
We don’t always understand why God allows certain things, but Scripture reminds us that while people may fail us, God never does.
Psalm 34:18 says,
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Isaiah 63:9 says, “In all their suffering, He also suffered.”
God wept with you.
He saw you then, and He sees you now.
While David failed to act for Tamar, God does not ignore the cries of His daughters. He is your Defender, your Redeemer, and your Healer. And even when your earthly protectors failed, your heavenly Father never stopped loving you.
You are not invisible.
You are not abandoned.You are deeply known, and eternally safe, in His hands.
Reflection:
Have you been angry at someone who failed to protect you? Have you ever directed that anger toward God? Take a moment to name those feelings honestly. Lay them before the Lord without shame.
Prayer:
God, it’s hard to understand why certain people failed me. And sometimes, it’s even harder to understand why You didn’t stop it. But I’m choosing to bring those questions to You. Help me heal from the silence and neglect. Remind me that You are not like the people who hurt or ignored me. You are faithful, just, and always present. Teach me to trust You with the parts of my story that still ache. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Day 5
Scripture: Proverbs 4:23
Healing With Boundaries and Trust
When you’ve experienced abuse or deep emotional trauma, learning to trust again can feel impossible.
You may wonder:
- “Can I trust my own judgment?”
- “What if someone hurts me again?”
- “Is it even okay to have walls up?”
Let’s be clear—boundaries are not walls. Boundaries are gates. They are wisdom in action. They don’t block everyone out forever; they protect what’s precious while you heal.
When I started walking through my healing journey, I realized that rebuilding trust, especially in marriage, required more than prayer. It required intentional boundaries and honest communication.
I had to learn:
- It’s okay to say “I’m not ready for that yet.”
- It’s okay to ask for space without guilt.
- It’s okay to speak up when something doesn’t feel safe.
Healing doesn’t mean pretending nothing ever happened. It means acknowledging what happened and making choices that honor your healing.
God doesn’t ask us to ignore our pain. He teaches us to guard our hearts—not from a place of fear, but with discernment.
Jesus Himself set boundaries:
- He withdrew when He needed rest.
- He didn’t entrust Himself to everyone.
- He let people walk away if they chose not to receive Him.
If the Son of God had boundaries, friend, so can you.
And when it comes to trust, especially in relationships that are rebuilding, trust isn’t all-or-nothing.
Trust is built one step at a time.
One honest conversation at a time.
One safe moment at a time.
Your spouse may not understand all that you’re feeling. They may not know what to do—but that doesn’t mean they’re against you. Invite them into your healing, not as the one to fix you, but as someone who can walk beside you.
Healing doesn’t mean you’re weak. And needing boundaries doesn’t mean you’re broken.
It means you’re becoming wise.
It means you’re choosing to protect your peace.
It means you’re letting God teach you how to love yourself and others in a way that’s safe and healthy.
Reflection:
What boundary do you need to set (or communicate) to feel safe as you heal? Who do you need to invite into your healing journey, and who may need limited access right now?
Prayer:
God, sometimes I feel guilty for needing space, for needing boundaries, for saying “no” or “not yet.” But I know You care about my heart. Help me guard it well, with wisdom and love. Show me how to rebuild trust—slowly, honestly, and with grace. Give me discernment about who to let in and how to move forward without fear. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Day 6
Scripture: Romans 15:13
There’s Still Hope for Us
There was a season when I wasn’t sure we’d make it.
I felt distant. He felt confused. We were both hurting, both unsure how to move forward.
I wanted to feel whole again. I wanted to feel close to him again. But so much of what had happened to me before marriage had built walls I didn’t know how to tear down. And even though he didn’t cause the pain, we were both living in the tension of it.
Maybe you’ve felt this too—like the trauma of your past is too big, and the marriage you’re in is too fragile to hold the weight of it all.
Let me pause right here and tell you the truth:
God is not done with your story.
There is still hope for your marriage.
It doesn’t happen overnight. Restoration takes time, honesty, humility, and sometimes, outside help. But I’ve seen God take what felt broken beyond repair and breathe life into it again.
I’ve watched laughter return.
I’ve seen touch become safe.
I’ve seen communication deepen and understanding grow. I’ve watched love that was weary become rooted and strong.
You may be wondering, “But how do we get there?”
You take one honest step at a time:
- Let your spouse see the parts of your heart that hurt.
- Invite God into the places you’ve kept hidden.
- Be willing to ask for help—a counselor, a mentor, a trusted friend.
- Celebrate small progress. Mourn what’s been hard. Don’t measure your marriage against someone else’s.
The most beautiful stories of healing often look like slow rebuilding, not instant fixes.
God is faithful.
He is a restorer.
And even if it doesn’t look exactly how you imagined, He knows how to redeem every part of your journey—including your love story.
You and your husband are not alone in this.
You’re learning to love in the presence of pain—and that kind of love is sacred.
Reflection:
What do you still hope for in your marriage? Have you shared that hope with God lately? What would it look like to take one small step toward that vision this week?
Prayer:
God, there are days when I wonder if we’ll make it. But I’m choosing to believe that You’re still working—even when it’s hard to see. Thank You for loving us through the process. Teach us how to love each other again, with patience, grace, and understanding. Help me hold on to hope—not just for healing, but for deeper connection, laughter, trust, and joy. You are the God who restores. I believe You can restore us too. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Day 7
Scripture: Romans 8:28
A Prayer for Your Marriage:
Heavenly Father, we come to You today as a couple carrying a heavy burden—one that we never asked for, one that often feels too complex to explain. You see the wounds we’ve tried to hide, the silence that’s crept between us, the tears cried in the dark, and the ache for closeness that trauma keeps pushing away.
But God, You are a Healer. You are the One who binds up the brokenhearted and brings light into the darkest places.
Lord, for the one who was hurt as a child—wrap them in Your love. Whisper truth where lies once lived. Rebuild what was shattered by the cruelty of others. Remind them that they are not defined by what happened, but by who they are in You: chosen, pure, whole, and loved.
For the spouse who may feel helpless or confused—give them patience, compassion, and deep understanding. Help them hold space for what they don’t fully understand, and remind them that love—real, enduring love—isn’t about fixing each other, but about standing beside one another.
Restore what trauma tried to steal. Heal what abuse tried to destroy. Strengthen this marriage with cords of grace and unity that cannot be broken.
God, bring laughter where there has been mourning, tenderness where there has been tension, and safety where there has been fear. Let this couple become living proof of Your power to redeem and restore what seemed too far gone.
May their story shine with hope for others. And may they always know—together, with You—healing is possible.
In Jesus’ name, amen.