Where Does It Hurt?

We’ve all heard the phrase: “Hurt people hurt people.” It’s often spoken with a sigh, an attempt to make sense of someone else’s sharp words, distant demeanor, or destructive behavior. It reminds us that pain doesn’t stay neatly packed inside—it leaks out, spills over, and sometimes lashes out. But too often, we stop there, diagnosing the symptom without asking the deeper question:  Where does it hurt?

It’s a question that shifts everything.

When someone wounds us with their words or actions, our instinct is often to recoil or retaliate. But what if, instead of reacting, we paused long enough to ask: What pain might they be carrying? Where might their story have broken?

When Jesus encountered hurting people, he often led with this kind of question. To the blind man: “What do you want me to do for you?” To the man by the pool: “Do you want to be made well?” To the woman at the well, whose life was marked by rejection: “Will you give me a drink?” These questions weren’t rhetorical. They were relational. They opened space for dignity, for healing, for truth.

We all carry wounds—some visible, others buried deep. Some of us have learned to mask them with smiles, success, or sarcasm. Others carry their pain just beneath the surface, always a moment away from breaking through. Left unaddressed, these wounds become breeding grounds for bitterness, fear, and aggression. But when we tend to them with care, honesty, and the help of others, healing becomes possible.

So maybe the question for today isn’t just “Who hurt me?” or “Whom have I hurt?”—important as those reflections are. The more transformative question might be:

“Where does it hurt?”

Ask it of yourself. Be still long enough to notice what rises.
Ask it of others. Not as an accusation, but as an invitation.
Ask it in prayer. Trust that God’s mercy meets us in our wounds, not beyond them.

Healing is not quick work – It’s holy work. But every time we pause to ask where it hurts—every time we choose compassion over condemnation—we help break the cycle. We make space for grace. And slowly, painfully, beautifully, we learn to become people who no longer hurt others – including ourselves – but help one another heal.