Holiness is not found in our singing voices, our sermons, or our well-rehearsed performances of faith. Holiness is revealed in how we treat those who carry pain — especially those wounded by violence and abuse.
Too often, victims are met with suspicion instead of compassion. They are silenced when they need safety, judged when they need gentleness, and questioned when they need care.
When we protect the powerful instead of the powerless, when we turn away from those harmed in childhood because their pain makes us uncomfortable, we step outside the character of Christ. Jesus never passed by the wounded; He stopped, saw, listened, and lifted.
Holiness means we do the same. It means looking beyond the performance of faith to live the practice of love. It means standing with those who still tremble when others sing. It means creating spaces where Survivors — including those hurt as children — are believed, protected, and cherished.
Because God’s holiness is not a sound. It’s a standard. And it will be known by how we treat the wounded.
