This blog was originally published in Evangelicals Now and has been republished with permission.

Note: this article contains references to abuse.

When Leanne first shared her story in our women's group, the room fell silent. Years of abuse had left scars far deeper than the physical ones. Though she'd found freedom from her abuser, she hadn't escaped the shame that followed her like a shadow.

What gave Leanne the courage to speak was not just the group's compassion but their own previous vulnerability.

For months before Leanne's disclosure, these women had been practising honest sharing. It wasn’t unusual to hear about struggles with depression, a child's addiction, or the reality of financial bankruptcy. None were met with platitudes or quick fixes. No one flinched or looked away. They simply received it.

As Leanne watched them respond to each other, she gradually realised she could trust them with her story too.

As our church community sought to walk alongside Leanne, we discovered that bridging the gap between her experience of shame and our desire to help required more than good intentions. It demanded practical wisdom about how shame operates and how honour can be restored.

Two principles, among others, have been part of our journey together.

I’m sharing these because they don't just apply to survivors of abuse, but to anyone weighed down by shame in our culturally diverse community.

They weren't implemented as part of a strategic plan but emerged organically through trial and error.

1. Expanding our understanding of grace

First, we expanded our understanding of grace. Many of us had always framed the gospel primarily around forgiveness for wrongdoing. But for Leanne, the deeper question wasn't about forgiveness but about worthiness. This meant emphasising aspects of grace we often overlooked.

In one-to-one catch ups, we would highlight how Christ bore not just our guilt but our shame on the cross - the public humiliation, the nakedness, the rejection - so we could receive God's honour.

We would explore how adoption into God's family fundamentally changes our status. We're not just forgiven, we're beloved and chosen. We bear the family name.

For Leanne, these weren't just theological concepts but lifelines.

However, she continued to find it difficult to hold onto these truths consistently. Some days she could embrace her identity as God's beloved daughter; other days the weight of shame would come crashing back. She needed constant reminders that God had not only forgiven her but cherished her.

These ideas are gradually becoming bigger themes in church life more generally. For example, we now start every Bible study by taking a moment to honour one of the members of the group. In other words, we try to value embodied practices that make honour tangible.

2. Demonstrating acceptance through hospitality

Secondly, we demonstrated acceptance concretely through hospitality. Words of affirmation were important, but Leanne needed to experience acceptance viscerally.

This came through tangible expressions of community.

Angela, an elder's wife, visited Leanne weekly for six months, though not without occasional cancellations and scheduling conflicts.

When Leanne was asked to read the Bible in church, the congregation's encouragement spoke volumes about how they saw her—not as damaged goods but as a valued member.

In her darkest moments, Leanne still struggles to believe she's worthy.

But then someone from church will text her asking for advice, or invite her into their home, or seek her out at coffee hour- and she remembers she's part of a family that sees her through God's eyes, not through the lenses of her past.