Forever Forward in Hopeਨਮੂਨਾ

The Gift of Safe Space

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.… The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress” (Psalm 46:1-7 NIV).

When I reflect on my journey—from trauma, grief, poverty, and brief moments of homelessness to life-long healing—one of the most transformative things wasn’t a program, a degree, or a pulpit. It was being invited into a space where I didn’t have to perform, pretend, or explain everything I had been through.

In those early seasons of healing and recovery, I didn’t have the words to describe what I had survived. I just knew what it felt like to be exhausted and unseen. But when I walked into a small church community, they didn’t ask for a polished version of me. They simply made room.

That room became sacred—not because of lights or music or out of touch theology—but because they gave me space to sit, to rest, and to breathe. No one tried to fix me. They just kept showing up. That was enough.

Psalm 46 reminds us that God is our refuge. And often, that divine refuge is experienced through people—those who show up with no agenda but love, no answer but presence.

Safe space isn’t just physical. It’s emotional. It’s spiritual. It’s the place where someone holds your pain without trying to erase it. Where your silence isn’t awkward, and your stories of suffering are not strange. Where you’re allowed to be human. It was in that space I began to believe again—not just in God, but in myself.

Years later, I’ve tried to model that for others through the work I have been called to. Whether it’s advocating for those whose voices aren’t heard, creating opportunities for people to access critical resources, offering guidance to students, sitting with people experiencing homelessness, or just listening without rushing to respond—I know now that healing grows in spaces where we feel safe.

And if you’ve never had that, I want you to know two things: you still deserve it, and it’s not too late. And if you have had it, maybe now’s the time to become that space for someone else.

God’s refuge often wears skin. It looks like someone who doesn’t flinch at your story. Who stays when it’s easier to walk away. That kind of presence can change a life.

Prayer: God, thank you for being my refuge when I didn’t have words for my pain. Thank you for the people who created space for me to simply be. Help me become that space for someone else—to offer the same grace I’ve received. Amen.