I grew up in the glow of a global mission and the shadows of quiet suffering.
My father, Paul Eshleman, passionately launched and directed Jesus Film Project® to offer every person on earth the chance to know Jesus. Around dinner tables and in ministry meetings, we talked about translations, new believers and the unreached. The mission was global—and deeply personal.
But behind the closed doors of our family life, another story was unfolding. My mother battled paralyzing depression, waves of sorrow that would wash over her without warning. As a child, I didn’t understand why her light would suddenly disappear, why she couldn’t get out of bed, or why tears came so easily.
Over time, I came to learn the source of her pain: a childhood marked by severe trauma and unspeakable abuse at the hands of those who were supposed to protect her.
When Faith Feels Unsafe
What made it even harder for my mother was how the Church responded. When she reached for help, she was met not with compassion but with correction. When healing didn’t come—emotionally or physically—she was told her faith must not be strong enough.
The very notion of faith became unsafe. Instead of being a place of refuge after trauma, the church became another source of shame. It’s a miracle she held on to Jesus at all in her childhood and teen years.
But God met her—not through a sermon or spotlight, but through a wise college professor who lived his faith with gentleness. He didn’t preach to her. He walked with her, listened, and made space for healing. Slowly, her heart opened again to a Jesus who weeps with the wounded, who binds up the brokenhearted, and who speaks in a voice that does not harm.
At her best, she became the kind of presence she once needed—offering safety, compassion, and gentleness to those whose childhoods were marked by deep harm. But she was also fragile, and in her pain, she sometimes hurt others deeply.
Her legacy is not simple, but it is real, and it taught me how both faith and brokenness can inhabit the same story. She held tightly to that safe faith to her final day.
That’s the Jesus we’re called to share. But in a world full of trauma, how we share Him matters more than ever.
Trauma Is Everywhere—and It’s in the Room
Your story may be different from my mother’s. But trauma, in some form, touches nearly all of us. Just take in these statistics:
- Studies show that more than 70% of adults worldwide will experience at least one traumatic event in their lifetime.
- In the U.S., 1 in 3 women experience severe intimate partner violence.
- One in five children globally faces some form of sexual abuse before adulthood.
- Beyond personal trauma, collective wounds run deep. According to the UNHCR, more than 120 million people are currently displaced by war, persecution, or disaster—the highest number ever recorded.
- Natural disasters displace an average of 20 million people each year.
- More than 1 in 10 people globally live in extreme poverty, often passed from one generation to the next, trapping families in cycles of instability and vulnerability.
Even within the church, many carry invisible injuries. In recent decades, widespread reports of clergy sexual abuse and spiritual manipulation have left countless people deeply wounded. In one global study, more than 1 in 5 churchgoers reported experiencing spiritual abuse—coercive, shaming, or controlling behavior by a leader.
For many, the very places meant to offer refuge became places of fear, shame or betrayal. I saw this in my own family. When my mother, already carrying the weight of childhood trauma, turned to the church for healing, she was met with blame rather than compassion.
Her story is far from isolated. Around the world, many are asking, “If the church isn’t safe, is God?”
No matter where we live, trauma shapes how people hear the gospel, and whether they believe it’s safe to receive.
The Deep Wound of Shame
Trauma and shame often travel together. For many survivors, it isn’t just the painful memory that lingers. It’s the quiet, persistent belief that their pain is somehow their fault.
Recent research has shown that shame doesn’t just follow trauma—it deepens it. One review of dozens of studies found a strong connection between trauma-related shame and symptoms like depression, anxiety and PTSD. The conclusion was clear: shame makes healing harder.
And yet in some religious spaces, shame is still used to try and draw people to God. But shame never leads to freedom. It may cause fear or short-term change, but it rarely builds a real relationship with God.
The gospel is not an invitation to self-loathing. It’s a call to come—just as you are—to a Savior who already knows, already loves and is not ashamed of you.
How Heart Language Can Address Trauma
I witnessed Jesus Film Project use heart language to meet people where they are––in their trauma–– firsthand in Rwanda.
After the 1994 genocide, they brought the JESUS film to communities still raw with grief, trauma and suspicion. But something unexpected happened. As people watched, many recoiled. They were visibly uncomfortable hearing Jesus speak in the national language.
Though both survivors and perpetrators spoke the same language, subtle differences in dialect revealed deep divisions. For many, the dialect was familiar, but it chilled the room. It was the sound of voices that once murmured threats, barked orders and left families shattered.
The team quickly realized what was happening. The gospel itself had not changed, but the voice it came in stirred painful memories. One unspoken question lingered in the room: “Does Jesus speak the language of my enemy?” The dialect, instead of drawing people closer, reopened wounds. Trust was already fragile.
In response, the team re-recorded the film using a dialect that felt familiar and gentle. The change was subtle but sacred. Eyes softened. Shoulders relaxed. People leaned in. By the end, many seemed to be asking a new question: “Could it be that Jesus speaks my language too?”
One unspoken question lingered in the room: “Does Jesus speak the language of my enemy?”
This is why it matters that every person hears the story of Jesus in their heart language. My father believed that each person on earth deserves at least one opportunity to encounter Christ in the voice that felt like home.
As he once said, “When a person sees the JESUS film for the first time in his or her own language, something miraculous happens. Jesus is no longer a stranger. He ceases to be a foreign religious figure. He suddenly becomes relevant to them … .They hear His words and can understand firsthand what He says, who He is, why He came and how much He loves them.”
When both communities could finally hear the healing message of Jesus in voices that honored their pain and humanity, the first steps toward reconciliation began. Not through politics or programs, but through Christ, speaking to each person as if they were known, seen, and loved.
her.BIBLE: A Similar Mission
For most of my life, I’ve watched what happens when people hear the story of Jesus in a voice they can understand. My father believed every person on earth deserves to experience the gospel in their heart language. That conviction shaped his life—and it’s shaped mine, too.
For the past five years, I’ve had the joy of serving as the communication coordinator with her.BIBLE, an audio Scripture project voiced entirely in diverse and comforting women’s voices. It’s a different digital medium but the mission is the same: to help people encounter God in a voice that feels safe, familiar, and deeply personal.
For many trauma survivors, especially those who’ve experienced abuse or spiritual manipulation, opening a Bible can feel threatening. Some carry painful memories tied to male authority figures or harsh, condemning interpretations of Scripture.
When the Voice of Scripture Feels Safe Again
For many women, especially those with a history of trauma, even opening the Bible can feel overwhelming. The thought of reading Scripture stirs anxiety, not because they don’t want to connect with God, but because past experiences have taught them to brace for harm instead of comfort.
Then they find her.BIBLE, and something shifts. Below are just a few of their stories.
For one listener, the warm, steady voice reading God’s Word stopped her. It was as if she were hearing Scripture in a new language. It was not one of condemnation, but of comfort. She wrote, “For the first time, I didn’t brace myself while listening. I let it wash over me.”
Another woman shared, “Listening to her.BIBLE, I hear my mother, I hear a friend. That’s my sister in Christ. And there’s a sense of safety in that voice, rather than instruction. A voice of a female says, ‘I am a part of this story.’”
Even survivors of deep trauma have told us they listen during morning devotions or as they fall asleep because the voices help them feel safe with Scripture again. As one therapist shared, “We work with trafficked women and it is so good to find a Bible audio app in women’s voices.”
Another survivor shared, “Hearing God’s word in a woman’s voice is particularly meaningful to me. I am a survivor of sexual abuse and, at times, a man’s voice saying anything leaves me raw. The voices here are daily bringing God’s gentleness to the forefront.”
For others, it’s not just tone, it’s representation. Women from around the world have shared that hearing Scripture spoken by someone who sounds like them, in their accent or heart language, makes them feel included in the story of God.
As one listener shared, ”I can hear myself reflected in the words! The variety of voices and cultures reflected are so important as God’s family is made up of such a beautiful variety of people in the world.”
It’s as if they’re asking, “Is there space for someone like me in God’s story?” And by the end of a chapter, a Psalm, or even just a verse, they begin to believe, “Yes. There is. And I belong.”
Principles of Trauma-Informed Evangelism
1. Safety First (Psalm 34:18; Isaiah 42:3)
In trauma-informed evangelism, emotional and spiritual safety must come first. Safety means more than offering a warm welcome or a kind voice. It means creating a space where people can show up as they are, without pressure to speak, share or perform. It means honoring presence before participation and trusting the Holy Spirit to lead.
Picture a Bible study where one woman consistently stays quiet during group prayer. Many of us have known people like this—those who carry unspoken wounds or have been hurt in spiritual settings.
In this imagined moment, the host notices her silence and gently allows her to remain quiet, offering her the freedom to simply listen until she feels ready. Perhaps, weeks later, the woman finds her voice and prays aloud for the first time. She might say something like, “Thank you, God, for letting me breathe again before I had to speak.”
This is the gift of safety. It helps people learn to trust again. Not because they were pushed, but because they were allowed to rest.
2. Cultural Sensitivity (1 Corinthians 9:22; Acts 2:6–8)
Trauma-informed evangelism calls us to be culturally aware and humble. It means recognizing that language, symbols, and even worship styles do not land the same way for everyone.
Cultural sensitivity listens first, speaks second, and asks honest questions along the way.
Years ago, I was leading an English conversation group for international students from East Asia. One evening over dinner, we began talking about the wide variety of dialects spoken in their home countries. As they shared their experiences, I said, “I have a film in your language.”
Their reaction stunned me. Faces lit up. One student covered her mouth in disbelief. Another leaned in and asked, “You mean in our dialect?” I nodded, explaining that the JESUS film had been translated into many local dialects, not just the national language.
There was a quiet pause. Then one student said, almost to herself, “Most films wouldn’t take the time to do that.”
Cultural sensitivity listens first, speaks second, and asks honest questions along the way.
In that moment, I saw how something as simple as language could become sacred. Being known in one’s mother tongue—even within a broader shared language—felt like being seen, honored, and invited in.
This is the heart of cultural sensitivity. It does not dilute the gospel. It dignifies the listener. And it begins with the humility to ask, “What does this mean to you?”
3. Empathy and Compassion (Romans 12:15; Matthew 9:36)
People rarely respond to the truth until they feel seen. Trauma often isolates and silences, so when someone shows up with gentleness and care, it can be disarming—in the best way.
Empathy listens first. Compassion makes room for pain. Together, they help people experience the love of Jesus before a single verse is spoken.
At an outreach event, a volunteer stood with a sign that read, “Need prayer? Want to talk to a mom?” A few people passed by with polite smiles, but one young man hesitated. The volunteer offered him a chair and a cup of coffee. She asked, “Rough day?”
He nodded and opened up about the grief of losing a sibling. They sat for almost an hour as he shared what he hadn’t told anyone else.
Later, he asked, “Why are you here?”
She said, “Because Jesus sees pain. And so do I.”
Empathy slows down. Compassion waits. And the good news feels like a safe place to land.
4. Empowerment (John 4; 1 Peter 2:9)
Trauma can leave people feeling voiceless or unsure if they belong. In evangelism, we reflect the heart of Jesus when we invite others not just to listen but to contribute. Empowerment begins with small invitations that restore dignity and affirm a person’s worth.
Imagine a small group where a quiet young woman finally says, “I didn’t grow up in any faith. I’m not sure I belong here.”
The leader might lovingly respond, “I value your perspective. Would you be open to looking over next week’s discussion with me ahead of time?”
That simple gesture of trust can spark something new. She may not lead the group right away, but she might begin to believe, “Maybe this isn’t just for others. Maybe it’s for me too.”
5. Collaboration (Philippians 2:3–4; Galatians 6:2)
Collaboration means we don’t assume what people need—we ask. Trauma-informed evangelism begins by listening and honoring the wisdom of the community. People feel seen, not studied when we slow down long enough to ask good questions. It opens space for partnerships rather than projects.
Imagine a church team organizing an outreach for a nearby housing complex. They showed up with donated Bibles, coloring books, and a well-planned schedule of activities for families. But only a handful of people came.
Later, one resident kindly shared, “The gesture was sweet, but what we need is a ride to the grocery store.”
The next month, the team returned, but this time with carpool sign-ups, a neighborhood cookout, and a listening ear. The Bibles came too. But now they came with trust. And people came to hear.
Trauma-informed evangelism means slowing down enough to truly see the person in front of us. It’s a posture of humility—one that asks, “Will the way I share Jesus reflect His heart, or accidentally deepen someone’s hurt?”
What Trauma-Informed Evangelism Is Not
It’s not about watering down the truth.
It’s not about avoiding hard conversations.
And it’s certainly not about walking on eggshells.
Trauma-informed evangelism means slowing down enough to truly see the person in front of us. It’s a posture of humility—one that asks, “Will the way I share Jesus reflect His heart, or accidentally deepen someone’s hurt?”
We don’t soften the truth.
We embody it with grace.
A Gentle Invitation
You don’t need a seminary degree to be a trauma-informed witness. You just need a listening heart.
Start by asking God to help you notice the invisible stories people carry. Invite the Holy Spirit to shape not only your words but your tone.
And when you speak—speak like Jesus: full of grace and truth. Speak like the One who weeps with those who weep and stays present when others flee. Speak in a way that allows someone to breathe again.
Sometimes, that begins with a simple share. A gentle, Spirit-led invitation to download the Jesus Film Project app in someone’s heart language may be the first time they realize God sees them.
Or send a friend the her.BIBLE app, voiced by women from diverse backgrounds. It might offer them a way to hear God’s Word in a voice that feels safe.
These tools are not the whole story—but they can be a beautiful beginning.
May we all offer a sanctuary where wounded and traumatized hearts can find hope, healing and a home.
her.BIBLE is a free audio (NLT) Bible in diverse, relatable women’s voices that meets you in the middle of your busy life and invites you into deeper connection with Jesus. As you listen, you’ll grow in faith and discover your voice matters to Him. her.BIBLE also welcomes producers who want to record Scripture in their heart language. Start listening today!
