Hurt Twice

Many of the deepest wounds are formed early in life, in seasons where a person had no power, no voice, and no ability to protect themselves. These wounds mark the heart before the mind even has language for what happened.

The first hurt is real. It is legitimate. It matters to God. He is not dismissive of it, and neither should we be. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). God does not minimize pain simply because the person was not at fault. He draws near to it. But where the danger begins is not always in the first wound—it is in what happens afterward if that wound is never brought into healing.

Many people survive by denial. When the pain surfaces, they escape—through distraction, addiction, spiritual bypassing, performance, or emotional shutdown. Others minimize it, excuse it, or bury it beneath religious language. This coping may preserve function for a season, but it does not bring freedom. What is denied is not healed; it is merely delayed. And delayed pain does not stay dormant—it becomes formative. It quietly shapes perception, reactions, relationships, and identity.

This is where the second hurt begins.

The second hurt is not always another act of abuse or betrayal. Often, it is life lived from the original wound. The adult responds with the heart of the injured child. The past bleeds into the present. Situations that are not the same still trigger the same fear, anger, withdrawal, or self-protection. The person may be safe now, but their nervous system, emotions, and beliefs are still living in the old story. Jesus spoke to this dynamic when He said, “Every tree is known by its fruit” (Luke 6:44). Fruit reveals the root. When unresolved pain remains at the root, it continues producing the same outcomes—even in new environments.

This is what it means to be hurt twice. First by what happened, and then again by never being guided into healing. Not because the person is weak, but because they were never shown how to bring that wound into the presence of Jesus. Many were taught how to survive, but not how to surrender. How to cope, but not how to resolve. Without wise, loving, Christ-centered guidance, the wounded heart simply keeps adapting rather than healing.

Jesus never invites us to relive pain alone. He invites us to bring it into relationship. “Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). Notice He does not say, “Figure it out,” or “Get over it.” He says, come. Healing is not achieved through analysis alone, but through encounter. The place of pain must be met with the presence of God and, often, the presence of a trusted guide who can help a person stay present instead of escaping.

Letting go of old wounds does not mean excusing what happened. Forgiveness is not denial. Healing is not pretending it didn’t matter. It means refusing to let yesterday keep wounding today. Paul writes, “For freedom Christ has set us free” (Galatians 5:1). Freedom includes freedom from living out of old injuries. Even when we were the victim, God does not want the wound to become our master.

When pain is brought to Jesus, something holy happens. The wound is no longer the place of identity—it becomes the place of encounter. What once shaped reactions begins to be reshaped by truth. What once drove behavior begins to lose authority. This is not instant, and it is not shallow. It is a process of walking, remembering with God, grieving with God, and releasing with God.

If the first wound came through selfishness, the second wound often comes through silence. Healing breaks that silence. It brings the past into the light so it no longer controls the future. When pain is healed, it no longer demands repetition. The cycle stops. The double hurt ends.

God never intended for us to live wounded again by what He desires to heal. He does not just save us from sin—He restores the broken places within us. “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Psalm 147:3). Not once. Completely.