There are wounds we experience at the hands of this life that don’t leave visible scars. There are betrayals that happen in silence, behind closed doors, in the spaces where no one else is watching—but God was. He saw it all. He saw the way your voice was quieted. He saw the way your loyalty was taken for granted. He saw the way someone you loved used what was sacred within you against you, how they made you feel like you weren’t worthy. Even when no one believed you, even when you started to question your own heart—he didn’t. He knew the truth. He held it when you couldn’t.

And yet, knowing that God saw what weathered you doesn’t always alleviate the pain; it doesn’t always make it easier to trust again. Sometimes it makes it harder, because if you were that open, that loving, that faithful—and you still ended up hurt, how can you ever feel safe again? How can you keep your heart soft in a world that hasn’t always been gentle? How do you let someone in when the last time you did, it left you in pieces? 

It may come as a surprise, but the answer doesn’t actually begin with closure, or with other human beings. It begins with God.

You begin to trust again by remembering that your healing doesn’t require anything from the person who hurt you. It doesn’t hinge on their apology, or their growth, or their understanding of their impact on your life. It begins with the one who never left your side in the aftermath. It begins with the one who collected your hurt and held it for you. It begins with the one who stood in the dark of your devastation and whispered, “You are still good. You are still worthy. You are still mine.”

God is not asking you to rush your trust. He is not asking you to deny what happened; he is not asking you to pretend as if you were unaffected by the pain. He is asking you to trust him—not just as a protector, but as a restorer. He is the one who sees what no one else does. He witnesses how hard it is for you to open your heart again, how much it cost you to walk away. He witnesses how deeply you want to believe that people can be different, that love can be safe, and how scared you are when faced with the possibility of choosing the wrong journey again. 

So, he walks with you. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t pressure. He simply stays by your side, meeting you where you are. He guides you. Because at the end of the day, trust is not a door you force open—it is a door you open slowly. God will be there, no matter what. He is not in a hurry. He is in the healing. 

The right people—the ones God dreamed into life for you—will not demand your trust before it’s ready. They will not punish your fear or ask you to perform healing you haven’t finished yet. They will stay. They will listen. They will show you, through gentle consistency, that they are not here to hurt you. 

And slowly, without realizing it, trust will start to crack into your heart again. It won’t happen all at once, but you will begin to feel its warmth. It’s softness. 

Trust doesn’t mean forgetting what happened. It means remembering that God has always been there for you, guiding you through your hardest seasons. And in time, you’ll begin to understand that what broke you doesn’t often get the final word in a story that God wrote for you. God always does, and he is still writing that story for you—he is still leading you to the goodness that you deserve.