We hear the deep pain and trauma in your words, and our hearts ache with you. What you endured at your former workplace was not just unprofessional—it was sinful. The verbal abuse, degradation, and inappropriate behavior you faced were violations of God’s design for human dignity and respect. Scripture is clear: *"Let no corrupt speech proceed out of your mouth, but such as is good for building up as the need may be, that it may give grace to those who hear"* (Ephesians 4:29). The directors’ words and actions were the opposite of this—rooted in pride, malice, and a complete disregard for the image of God in you. Their behavior was not just wrong; it was an affront to the Lord Himself.
We must also address the inappropriate touching you mentioned. This was not merely an uncomfortable moment—it was a violation of your body and your personhood. God’s Word commands, *"Treat younger men as brothers, older women as mothers, and younger women as sisters, in all purity"* (1 Timothy 5:1-2). What that director did was sin, and it is right to name it as such. You were not wrong to feel violated, and you are not to blame for staying out of necessity. Survival does not equal complicity, and God sees the weight of what you carried.
Your struggle with self-forgiveness is understandable, but we must gently correct the lie that you "abandoned" or "disrespected" yourself. You endured. You survived. That is not weakness—it is a testament to the strength God placed in you, even when you couldn’t see it. The enemy would love for you to believe that your worth was tied to that paycheck or that your silence was agreement. But God says, *"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit"* (Psalm 34:18). He does not condemn you for the choices you made in survival. He weeps with you over the injustice and longs to heal the wounds.
The conditioning from your parents is another layer of pain that must be brought into the light. Twisting Scripture to justify abuse is a grave sin. God’s Word never calls us to endure cruelty in the name of "testing." Jesus Himself said, *"Come to me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest"* (Matthew 11:28). He does not delight in your suffering; He delights in your freedom. The fact that your parents sided with your abusers instead of protecting you is heartbreaking, and we grieve with you over the betrayal. But we must also declare this truth: *Your worth is not defined by their rejection.* You are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14), and your voice matters to God—even when others have silenced it.
Now, to the crisis you’re facing: homelessness in the winter is a very real and terrifying threat. But we serve a God who sees the sparrow and knows the number of hairs on your head (Matthew 10:29-30). He is not blind to your suffering, and He will not abandon you. We pray that He would open doors of provision—whether through a safe shelter, a kind stranger, or an unexpected opportunity. We also encourage you to reach out to local churches or Christian organizations that may offer assistance. You are not as alone as the enemy wants you to believe. There are people who will help if you can find the courage to ask.
But we must also address the lie that you are "worthless" or that "no one cares." That is the voice of the enemy, not the voice of God. Jesus proved your worth when He laid down His life for you (Romans 5:8). You are not easy prey—you are a child of the King, and He is your protector. The psalmist declares, *"The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?"* (Psalm 27:1). Even in this storm, He is your refuge.
We also want to speak to the fear that has kept you silent. It is understandable after years of being punished for having boundaries, but God did not give you a spirit of fear (2 Timothy 1:7). He gave you a spirit of power, love, and self-control. We pray that He would break the chains of fear and give you the courage to speak up—not just for yourself, but for others who may be suffering in silence. Your voice has power, and your story matters.
Now, let us pray:
Heavenly Father, we come before You with heavy hearts, lifting up our dear brother/sister who has endured so much pain and injustice. Lord, You see every tear, every moment of fear, and every time they were silenced. We ask that You would pour out Your healing balm on their wounded heart. Break the lies of the enemy that have taken root—lies of worthlessness, shame, and self-condemnation. Remind them that they are Your beloved child, created with purpose and dignity.
Father, we ask for Your swift intervention in their current crisis. Provide shelter, warmth, and provision in this winter season. Open doors that no man can shut, and surround them with people who will show them the love of Christ. Give them the courage to reach out for help and the strength to accept it.
Lord, we also pray for justice. You say in Your Word that vengeance is Yours (Romans 12:19), and we trust that You will deal with those who have harmed them. But we also pray for their hearts—that You would soften them and lead them to repentance. For those who have enabled abuse, we ask that You would convict them and turn their hearts toward righteousness.
Father, we ask that You would restore their voice. Break the spirit of fear and replace it with Your perfect love. Help them to set godly boundaries and to know that it is not dishonoring to protect their heart and body. Give them wisdom to navigate relationships and to discern who is safe.
Most of all, Lord, we pray that they would draw near to You. Remind them that You are their refuge, their strong tower, and their ever-present help in trouble (Psalm 46:1). Let them feel Your arms around them, holding them tight. Heal their trauma, restore their hope, and fill them with Your peace that surpasses all understanding.
We ask all these things in the mighty name of Jesus, the One who came to bind up the brokenhearted and set the captives free. Amen.