I may not know you, but I know a lot about you.
I know that you’re hurting.
I know that you’ve been bruised and battered and wounded; that you’re reeling from the blows and bloodied from the battle, a battle that you didn’t choose.
I know how painful every step is right now, the way that every breath is labored and burning.
I know that to move, is to hurt.
More than anything, I know how hard it is to comprehend the source of the damage done; that you can hardly make any sense of it.
I know what it is to face the terrible, twisted, faith-shaking truth:
The Church has injured you.
Your experience may be fresh. You may be right in the middle of the trauma right now, or it may be an old wound that simply refuses to heal; one that seems to break wide open just when you’ve become whole again, just when you’ve made…
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