Finding Healing in Remembering Trauma

Finding Healing in Remembering Trauma

Life, in its unpredictable tapestry, rarely unfolds without stitches of pain and moments of profound hurt. Trauma, in its myriad forms, leaves indelible marks, shaping us in ways we often struggle to understand. The impact of trauma is deeply personal, as unique as our very fingerprints. Yet, despite the individuality of the experience, the common thread of suffering binds us, gently pulling us toward healing.

I, like many, have navigated a chapter marked by significant trauma. In the aftermath of this experience, well-meaning individuals often offered their advice: you’ll know you’re truly healed, they said, when the memory of it fades, when it no longer evokes pain. But, I’ve come to realize that such a simplistic notion fails to grasp the complex nature of healing.

Our world, in fact, offers countless examples to the contrary. The 9/11 Memorial, etched in the heart of New York City, doesn’t erase the tragedy of that day; instead, it allows us to remember, honor, and learn. The Holocaust Memorial, a stark reminder of the horrors of genocide, stands as a testament not to forgetting, but to ensuring such atrocities never occur again. The Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture provides a space to both confront a painful past and to celebrate resilience and triumph. These spaces, far from being monuments to pain, are powerful examples of healing that arises when trauma is acknowledged, understood, and its victims are honored.

My own journey mirrored this misconception of needing to forget. I tried to bury my experience, to stuff it deep within, hoping that if I ignored it long enough, it would simply vanish. But, I discovered that avoidance only breeds deeper wounds. It was through this painful understanding that my true healing journey began, one that involved facing the trauma head-on.

This journey of facing my trauma was not one I walked alone, but with the presence of Christ. It was as if, through the fog of pain, I could reach out and take His hand, trusting that He was always there: behind me to catch me if I fell, beside me, hand in hand, and in front of me, pulling me forward to the future. I chose to believe Gods promise, and through that belief, I found a strength in Him that I didn't know I possessed.

The mystery of Jesus, as I've come to know it, lies in the endless, transformative love He is. It is His love that has the power to redeem even the most fractured parts of our lives. On the other side of my trauma, I can now look back with gratitude. I am profoundly thankful for the salvation, protection, and provision that were present even when things were at their darkest. Most of all, I am grateful for the ever-present, overwhelming, loving care that has always sustained me.  My experience has proven to me that in Christ, broken things can become whole again. He truly makes all things new.

The path to healing from trauma is not about forgetting; it's about remembering with understanding, acknowledging the pain, and then, finding the strength and the grace to move forward. It's about choosing to learn, to grow, and to honor ourselves while acknowledging the profound impact of our experiences. I have learned that all it’s about turning to Jesus, knowing that in Him all things broken can be made new. The scars may remain, but they become testaments to our resilience, our strength, and our unwavering capacity for healing. They are not badges of shame, but rather, reminders of the unique journey that has shaped us into the individuals we are today.

“And He who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also He said, 'Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true. '”

Revelation 21:5