Survivor Speaks Truth

Tag: Accountability

  • When Justice Feels Delayed

    It’s painful to watch someone hurt people, lie, manipulate, deceive, and seemingly continue with their life without consequence. If you have ever been on the receiving end of abuse, you probably understand exactly what I mean. Sometimes the aftermath feels almost as painful as the abuse itself because you are left carrying the consequences of things you did not do. At the same time, the person responsible appears to carry on as though nothing happened.

    I have wrestled with this more than I would like to admit. I have asked God how someone can cause so much damage and seemingly prosper while the person they harmed is left picking up the pieces. I have wondered why doing the right thing can feel so costly, while doing the wrong thing seems to cost someone nothing. There have been times when I have looked at circumstances in front of me and thought, God, where are You in this? Where is justice? How long will You allow this to continue?

    It is hard to watch evil continue when there seems to be no recourse. It is hard when you have told the truth and still feel unheard. It is hard when you have done everything you know to do, and nothing seems to change. It is hard to watch someone continue forward seemingly untouched while you are still dealing with the emotional, physical, relational, and financial consequences of what they have done.

    I was thinking about all of this recently when I read Psalm 37, and I felt like God was reminding me of something I desperately needed to hear.

    “Do not fret because of evildoers.”

    David needed to write those words for a reason. Watching people do wrong and seemingly prosper because of it can consume you. You begin watching for consequences. You wonder when they’ll finally be exposed. You wait for someone else to see what you see. You become frustrated when systems fail, when people minimize what happened, or when accountability does not come nearly as quickly as you believe it should.

    Psalm 37 does not pretend that those circumstances do not exist. In fact, the entire Psalm acknowledges the painful reality that people can do wrong and appear to prosper for a time. It tells us not to mistake what we are seeing right now for the end of the story.

    That distinction has become incredibly important to me.

    There is a difference between someone getting away with something for a time and someone getting away with it forever.

    I cannot promise you when accountability will come or what it will look like. Sometimes it comes through the legal system. Sometimes the truth eventually exposes itself. Sometimes consequences arrive quietly in ways we will never see. And sometimes justice doesn’t happen the way or within the timeframe we desperately wanted it to.

    But I believe wholeheartedly that God is just, and I believe that nothing is hidden from Him.

    God knows what happened behind closed doors. He knows what was said when nobody else was listening. He knows what was intentional. He knows what was manipulated. He knows what was hidden, deleted, denied, or rewritten. He knows the difference between someone’s public image and their private behaviour. He knows the complete story when everyone else has only been given pieces.

    That matters to me because there are situations in life where you may never be able to make another human being understand the entire story.

    God already does.

    Psalm 37:5–6 says, “Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will act. He will bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your justice as the noonday.”

    Those words hit differently when you are waiting for justice.

    I have read them when my faith was strong, and when I was exhausted and struggling to believe them. I have prayed them when everything in me wanted God to hurry up and do something because I could not understand why He was allowing something so wrong to continue.

    I am learning that trusting God with justice does not mean that I stop pursuing accountability. It does not mean that I remain silent about abuse. It does not mean that I stop documenting, reporting, setting boundaries, protecting myself, or using the systems available to me. Trusting God does not require passivity.

    It means I refuse to allow another person’s wrongdoing to become the centre of my life.

    At some point, pursuing justice and becoming consumed by injustice can start to look very similar, and I have had to ask God to guard my heart there continually. I can pursue truth without becoming obsessed with watching someone fall. I can want accountability without wanting revenge. I can ask God for justice without telling Him exactly how He has to deliver it.

    That is not always easy.

    When someone has taken enough from you already, the last thing you want to give them is your peace.

    This is where Psalm 37 keeps bringing me back. God tells me to trust Him, keep doing good, commit my way to Him, and let Him deal with what I cannot control.

    That does not mean evil wins. It means evil does not get to turn me into something I was never created to become.

    If you are watching someone who hurt you seemingly prosper while you are still dealing with the consequences of what they did, I understand how painful that is. If you are wondering why accountability has not come, I understand that too. If you have prayed, God, how much longer?, you are not alone.

    But please remember that you are standing in the middle of the story. What you see today is not necessarily what you will see tomorrow.

    A lack of immediate consequences does not mean God approves of what happened. A delay in justice does not mean God has forgotten you. Someone appearing to prosper does not mean they have escaped accountability.

    I do not know exactly how every wrong will be made right. I am still waiting for God to redeem some things in my own life. I still do not understand some injustices, and there are days when I have to ask Him to help my unbelief because what I see does not look anything like the justice I have prayed for.

    But Psalm 37 reminded me that I don’t have to see the ending yet to trust the One who does.

    People who abuse others may believe they have gotten away with it. Maybe for a season, from where we are standing, it even appears that they have.

    But temporary freedom from consequences is not the same thing as escaping accountability forever.

    God sees what other people don’t. God knows what happened behind closed doors. God knows the truth even when other people do not.

    So I will continue telling the truth. I will continue pursuing what is right. I will continue asking for justice while refusing to become consumed by revenge. And when I have done everything I know to do, I will place what remains into God’s hands.

    Because evil does not get the final word.

    God does.

  • International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women

    Today is the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, a day set aside to acknowledge a reality that affects far too many women around the world. It’s a reminder that this issue isn’t distant or rare—it’s something many women carry quietly in their homes, workplaces, families, and communities. For countless women, violence is not a headline or a statistic but a lived experience, one that often comes with silence, uncertainty, and a deep longing to be believed and supported.

    Violence against women shows up in many forms—physical, emotional, financial, psychological, spiritual, and institutional. Sometimes it is loud and obvious. At other times, it is hidden behind a smile, a polite answer, or a carefully constructed image. Many women who bravely step forward are met with skepticism or judgment, while those who caused the harm are often excused, defended, or protected. This imbalance is one of the reasons days like today matter. They create space for people to pause, listen, and reflect on the reality so many women live through, often without recognition or understanding.

    Even with the challenges, there is a rising strength among women. More and more are finding the courage to speak, share their stories, ask for help, and support one another. Every voice contributes to change. Every story brings clarity—every step forward, whether big or small, is a form of progress. Violence doesn’t end overnight, but it does begin to shift when people refuse to ignore it and when communities commit to creating safer, more compassionate environments for women.

    For survivors, today may evoke a complex mix of emotions—gratitude for how far they’ve come, sadness for what they endured, or hope for what their future holds. Wherever you are in your journey, your experience matters, and your healing matters. There is no right or wrong pace. Simply making it through each day is a form of strength in itself.

    For those still facing difficult situations, this day serves as a reminder that support is available, even if it feels distant. There are people and resources ready to help, and there is a life beyond the circumstances you’re facing right now—one marked by safety, steadiness, and peace.

    And for those who have never been personally affected by this issue, today is an invitation to listen, learn, and advocate. Even small acts—such as believing someone’s story, offering support without judgment, or simply being willing to learn—can make a meaningful difference.

    The International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women is ultimately about awareness, compassion, and collective responsibility. It calls us to recognize what too many women have lived through and to commit ourselves to creating a world where they are safe, heard, and supported. Today matters—but so do the choices we make every day after.

  • The Church Cannot Stay Neutral on Abuse

    For too long, churches have wavered when it comes to addressing abuse. Some avoid the subject altogether, while others downplay it as a marital “conflict” or “personal struggles.” But let’s be honest—abuse is not a disagreement, and it is not a personality clash. Abuse is sin. Abuse is violence of the heart, the tongue, and often the hands. Abuse destroys families, silences voices, and leaves wounds that last a lifetime. When the Church minimizes it or chooses neutrality, it has already chosen a side—and it is not the side of the victim.

    Neutrality in the face of abuse is not compassion; it is complicity. When a victim is told to “pray harder,” “submit more,” or “forgive and move on” without accountability for the abuser, the Church has failed. Those words do not sound like the heart of Christ; they sound like echoes of the oppressor. Jesus never turned a blind eye to injustice. He confronted religious leaders who misused power, defended the vulnerable, and exposed sin that others tried to hide. He named evil for what it was and defended the oppressed.

    When churches remain silent, abusers are empowered. They learn quickly that they will be shielded if they keep up appearances, hold a position, or quote the right Scriptures. They thrive in environments where image and reputation matter more than truth and righteousness. Meanwhile, victims are often left isolated, discredited, and sometimes even pushed out of the very place that should have been their sanctuary. A church that protects its reputation instead of protecting its people is not representing Christ—it is representing cowardice.

    The Bible does not allow us to stay neutral. Proverbs 31:8 9 says, “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.” Neutrality is not biblical; it is disobedience. To refuse to call out abuse is to permit it to thrive. It is to tell the oppressed that their suffering matters less than the comfort of the congregation or the image of leadership. And God does not take lightly the mistreatment of the vulnerable.

    Look at the Old Testament prophets—Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Amos—they cried out against oppression and injustice. They didn’t whisper carefully so as not to offend powerful men; they declared the Word of the Lord with boldness. Jesus Himself overturned tables in the temple when people used religion to exploit others. He called out hypocrisy, pride, and cruelty. He stood on the side of truth, even when it cost Him His reputation, His following, and ultimately His life. The Church He founded cannot do less.

    The world is watching. Survivors are watching. Our children are watching. What message do we send when we shelter wolves in shepherd’s clothing but drive wounded sheep from the flock? What are we teaching the next generation when we are quicker to protect the image of a leader than to stand up for the hurting? Neutrality may feel safe for leadership, but it leaves the vulnerable exposed. And when that happens, we do not reflect Christ—we betray Him.

    It’s time for churches to take a harsher stance on abuse. To call it what it is: evil. To protect the vulnerable with action, not empty words. To refuse to hide behind shallow statements about grace and forgiveness while ignoring repentance, accountability, and justice. To discipline those who abuse instead of excusing them. To create environments where victims can come forward without fear of being shamed, silenced, or cast aside.

    Because the truth is this: when we remain neutral, we have already chosen the oppressor’s side. And Christ never stood on that side. He stands with the broken, the oppressed, the silenced, and the wounded. If we are His Church, then that is where we must stand.

  • After the Decision: What Comes Next?

    In my last post, I wrote about the difficult tension between sticking it out and walking away. That decision is rarely straightforward and often carries layers of fear, grief, guilt, and even relief. But what happens once the decision is made? What do you do after you’ve decided to stay and rebuild—or after you’ve decided to walk away and start over?

    The truth is, the decision is only the first step. The following days, weeks, and months require courage, intentional action, and support.

    If You’ve Chosen to Stay

    Deciding to stay does not mean forgetting the pain or excusing the behaviour. It means believing there is still a foundation worth rebuilding. But staying requires more than hope. It requires accountability, commitment, and consistent change.

    1. Prioritize Safety. If the relationship involved abuse, safety must come first. That means clear boundaries, outside accountability, and resources in place should the unhealthy patterns re-emerge.
    2. Seek Professional Support. No one can restore a broken relationship alone. Trauma-informed therapy, faith-based counselling, or support groups can provide tools for healthier communication and conflict resolution.
    3. Apologies Without Repentance Mean Nothing. An apology on its own is easy. True repentance is what matters. A person can say “I’m sorry” a thousand times, but if their actions don’t align with those words, the apology is empty. Staying requires evidence of transformation, not temporary remorse.
    4. Measure by Actions, Not Words. It’s easy to say, “I’ll do better.” It’s harder to live that out day after day. Pay attention to behaviour. Is there follow-through? Is there humility? Are they taking responsibility for the harm they inflicted?

    Staying is not passive. It is active, ongoing work that demands honesty, humility, and visible change. Without genuine repentance and consistent action to repair the harm, staying simply keeps you trapped in the same destructive cycle.

    If You’ve Chosen to Leave

    Walking away, even when it’s the healthiest decision, comes with its own set of challenges. Many survivors describe the aftermath as a mix of freedom and grief. That’s normal. Leaving means separating from a person and disentangling from hopes, memories, and often a shared life.

    1. Grieve the Loss. Allow yourself to feel the anger, disappointment, and sadness. Grief is not a sign you made the wrong decision—it’s a natural response to loss.
    2. Build a Support Network. Isolation is one of the most dangerous traps for survivors. Surround yourself with people who validate your experience and encourage your healing, whether that’s trusted friends, a church community, or survivor advocacy groups.
    3. Establish Boundaries. Walking away doesn’t always mean the person is out of your life—especially if children, shared finances, or legal matters are involved. Clear, firm boundaries are essential. Communicate only as necessary, and when possible, through structured or legal channels.
    4. Focus on Reclaiming Yourself. Abuse and toxic relationships strip away identity. Use this season to rediscover who you are apart from the relationship. Pursue career goals, education, faith practices, or hobbies that remind you of your strength and individuality.
    5. Get Practical Help. Sometimes leaving means facing custody battles, financial insecurity, and housing needs. Don’t hesitate to lean on advocacy organizations, community resources, legal aid, or shelters. That’s what they’re there for.

    Leaving isn’t about failure—it’s about survival. It’s about choosing to stop pouring your energy into something destructive so you can begin investing in your future.

    Everyday Struggles After the Decision

    No matter which path you’ve chosen, struggles are common. Survivors often face:

    • Second-guessing. Did I do the right thing? These doubts are normal, especially when loneliness or fear creeps in.
    • External pressure. Friends, family, or even faith communities may pressure you to return when you’ve left, or shame you for staying when you’ve chosen to rebuild. Remember: they don’t live your life—you do.
    • Trauma responses. Emotional triggers, flashbacks, hypervigilance, or nightmares, can surface more strongly once the immediate crisis ends. Healing is not linear.

    This is why it’s so important to have a plan for healing regardless of your decision.

    Moving Forward With Intention

    The decision itself is not the end of the story. It is the turning point. What matters most is how you move forward from here.

    • Invest in your own healing. Faith practices, journaling, therapy, or trauma healing can all help regulate your nervous system and restore your sense of safety.
    • Surround yourself with truth-tellers. The right people will remind you of your worth when you’ve forgotten.
    • Anchor in hope. Whether you stay or leave, life will not always feel as heavy as it does in the immediate aftermath. Healing is possible. Joy is possible. A future you cannot yet imagine is possible.

    Final Word

    After the decision—whether to stick it out or walk away—you have a choice about what comes next. You can remain defined by the pain, or you can step into the process of healing and reclaiming your life. Neither path is easy, but both require you to remember one truth:

    You are not powerless. You are not worthless. You are not defined by the worst thing you’ve endured.

    The decision was only the beginning. The rest of your story is still waiting to be written.