Wounded by Silence
How Spiritual Indifference Reopened an Old Father Wound
A dim counseling room: a weary man glows faintly with the Sacred Heart’s light, facing a fading clerical silhouette. Between them, Christ’s Sacred Heart image radiates warmth, highlighting spiritual indifference and Christ’s faithful presence.
A vulnerable reflection on spiritual indifference, father wounds, and church hurt—how silence from trusted leaders reopens old pain, and how the Sacred Heart of Jesus meets us there with healing, mercy, and hope.
Most of the time, our deepest wounds aren’t exposed by big explosions.
They’re revealed in small, ordinary moments that hit us way harder than they “should.”
Recently, the Lord used two simple messages—one from my therapist and one from a Church Leader—to expose a wound I thought I had already forgiven and moved past.
The wound of indifference.
The wound of silence.
The wound of a father who doesn’t really show up.
“Please Remove Me”
I had written a reflection called “Is Quiet Indifference Wounding the People You Love?” It was about how most marriages and faith lives don’t explode—they slowly die from quiet neglect. I sent it out to my email list and Substack readers and my personal email list.
That morning, I received an email from a deacon I had known for about a year. When I first met him, I was broken, separated from my wife, and desperate for prayer. He and his wife prayed for me and my family, and I was grateful. He even encouraged me to email him. I had written about the Holy Spirit and my desire to start a ministry at the parish.
I did exactly that.
I sent multiple emails.
I shared my heart, my calling, my desire to serve.
And for a long time, there was only silence.
No response. No acknowledgment. Nothing.
Then, after I sent this latest reflection on indifference, his first reply ever was:
“Marco, please remove me from your email list. Thank you.”
On paper, that’s just an unsubscribe request.
But with that backstory, it landed like a punch to the chest.
It felt like:
“I was there to pray for you when you were broken,
but I don’t want to walk with you, hear your heart, or receive what you carry.”
“It’s Not Indifference. It’s Time Management.”
Around the same time, I had also sent the reflection to my therapist.
Her initial response was similar: she asked to be removed and said she wouldn’t be taking the time to read my articles. When I shared that this felt painful and ironic—given that the piece was about indifference—she clarified:
“It’s not indifference. It’s time management. I don’t have the time to read your articles, no matter how valuable they are. It’s also inappropriate that I would be getting this information on my cell phone. If I wasn’t your therapist, it would be different.”
On a rational level, I understood:
She was setting a professional boundary.
She was protecting her time and her role.
But my heart didn’t hear “time management.”
My heart heard:
“I don’t have time for you. I don’t want your heart on my phone.”
And when you stack that on top of the deacon’s “Please remove me,” it felt like a chorus of spiritual voices saying:
“We’ll pray for you when you’re broken…”
“…but we don’t really want your heart, your calling, or your ministry.”
The Journal That Broke Me Open
My therapist asked me to journal about why this hit so hard.
As I read my own words back to myself, I started to cry.
Not polite tears—deep, old tears.
I realized this wasn’t just about a therapist’s boundary or a deacon’s email preferences.
This touched a very old wound in me:
the wound of abandonment and indifference from my father.
Even today, as a grown man, I can still feel his emotional distance.
I have forgiven him. I’ve prayed. I’ve released him to God.
But as I sat there with my journal, I had to admit:
“It still hurts.
This is a wound that hasn’t fully healed.”
The deacon’s silence over months…
his first reply being “remove me”…
my therapist’s “I don’t have time to read these”…
All of it landed in the same place as my father’s indifference.
When Boundaries Feel Like Abandonment
The Holy Spirit began to show me a hard but important truth:
Their side:
Boundaries. Time limits. Professional roles. Human limitations.My side:
A lifetime of feeling unseen, unheard, and “too much.”
A father whose emotional absence formed a deep narrative in my soul.
So when someone says:
“I don’t have time.”
“Please remove me from your list.”
My nervous system doesn’t hear a neutral boundary.
It hears:
“You’re not worth my time. Your heart is not wanted here.”
That’s the power of unhealed wounds.
They turn ordinary moments into confirmations of old lies.
A Word to Spiritual Leaders (and All of Us)
I’m not writing this to attack my therapist or condemn a deacon.
I’m writing this because I believe many people in the Body of Christ are carrying similar wounds.
If you are a priest, deacon, pastor, ministry leader, or spiritual mentor, please hear this with love:
Your silence can wound more deeply than you realize.
Inviting someone to share their heart and then never responding can feel like spiritual abandonment.
A simple “I received this, thank you” or “I don’t have capacity to walk with you in this season, but I’m praying for you” can be the difference between healing and another layer of hurt.
We are all limited. We all have to set boundaries.
But we are never excused from charity.
Indifference—especially from spiritual fathers and mothers—cuts deep.
Leaving Them in God’s Hands
I’ve decided not to chase these people down or demand anything from them.
I will honor their requests.
I will remove them from my list.
And I will continue to pray for them.
Because at the end of the day, I’m not the Holy Spirit.
My job is to plant seeds, speak truth in love, and let God deal with hearts.
But I am also letting God use this pain to heal me:
To separate human boundaries from true rejection.
To expose the lies I’ve believed about my worth.
To remind me that my calling does not depend on who subscribes, replies, or validates me.
An Invitation to You
Maybe you’ve heard words like:
“I’m busy.”
“I don’t have time for that.”
“Please take me off your list.”
And something inside you heard:
“You don’t matter.”
“Your heart is too much.”
“Your calling is not wanted here.”
If that’s you, I want to invite you to ask the Holy Spirit:
“Lord, what old wound is this touching?
Where did I first learn that I wasn’t worth someone’s time?
Show me the root, not just the symptom.”
Bring that to Jesus—not with polished words, but with raw honesty:
“Jesus, I feel abandoned.
I feel unseen.
I feel like I’m not worth someone’s time.
I forgive those who couldn’t show up for me…
but I’m asking You to heal what they could not heal.”
A Prayer for Those Wounded by Spiritual Indifference
Father God,
You see every son and daughter who has been marked by indifference—
by parents who were absent, and by spiritual leaders who were too busy or too silent.In the Name of Jesus, I ask You to shine Your light on the roots of these wounds.
Reveal where “time management” and “boundaries” have been interpreted as
“I’m not worth loving.”Lord, we choose to forgive those who couldn’t be there for us,
But we confess that it still hurts.
We bring YOU the parts of our hearts that still cry out,
“Do I matter? Am I worth your time?”Jesus, step into those memories.
Rewrite the story with Your presence.
Show us that You are the God who never abandons,
the One who always has time for us.Heal our perception so we can receive human boundaries
without turning them into spiritual verdicts about our worth.In Faith, Love and Hope,
Amen.
You are not “too much.”
Your heart is not a burden.
Your calling is not cancelled by anyone’s silence.
You are seen.
You are worth the time.
And the Father who never abandons is already at work in the deepest places of your story.
In Faith, Love and Hope,
Marco “Faith Warrior” Benavides
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