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What If You’ve Been Worshipping a God Your Wounds Created?
Why God Often Sounds Like the People Who Hurt Us
For most of my life, I was convinced God was mad at me.
Not in a fiery, Old Testament, smite-you-with-lightning kind of way. More like a constant, quiet disappointment — the kind that doesn’t yell, just sighs heavily and looks away. I imagined God standing there with folded arms, tapping His foot, wondering when I was finally going to get my act together. I called it conviction. I called it the Holy Spirit. I called it love, somehow.
But looking back now, I’m not sure that voice ever belonged to God.
I still remember one sermon in particular.
The preacher’s voice thundered across the sanctuary: “Some of you think God is okay with how you’re living. But let me tell you — God is angry. He is holy. He is just. And he doesn’t play games.”
I was maybe fourteen. Sitting in the third row, heart pounding, stomach clenched. I hadn’t done anything scandalous — just the usual teenage stuff. But somehow, I was sure this was aimed at me.
It wasn’t just that one sermon, though. It was the vibe. The undercurrent. A steady drip of spiritual shame disguised as truth. Little comments, quiet warnings, offhanded remarks that always seemed to imply: God loves you, but he’s not exactly thrilled about it. That he was watching — closely — and disappointed more often than not.
Over time, I internalized that message. I thought the weight I carried was conviction. I thought the shame was spiritual. I thought the anxiety I felt in prayer was the Holy Spirit, urging me to grovel a little more.
But the older I get, the more I realize: That wasn’t God.
Those were my wounds — shaped in large part by the church — the parts of me that had learned to expect rejection, disappointment, and disapproval. And I’d confused them with the voice of the divine.
God in the Image of Our Wounds
It’s taken me years to realize just how much of my view of God was shaped — or maybe warped — by the church.
