Self-blame often shows up quietly after betrayal. It sounds like If I had been more attentive…, If I had prayed harder…, If I had handled conflict better, this wouldn’t have happened. Many women I’ve sat with carry these thoughts like stones in their pockets—heavy, constant, and unseen.
Here’s the truth we often miss: self-blame is not humility. It’s an attempt to make sense of pain by believing we had more control than we actually did.
God’s Justice Brings Clarity, Not Confusion
Scripture is remarkably clear about responsibility. As we mentioned last week, marriages involve shared dynamics—communication, growth, and mutual care — and betrayal is a moral choice made by the one who deceives. God never assigns the weight of sin to the wounded party.
Romans 6:23 tells us plainly that “the wages of sin is death.” While obvious, it is important to note that a singular person gets paid for the wages they earn. Of course, in this verse, the concept of wages is a negative metaphor in that the person who works in sin gets paid in death. That may sound stark, but for a woman drowning in self-blame, it can feel like oxygen. God does not confuse responsibility. He names truth without asking you to carry guilt that isn’t yours.
God Protects Those Who Have Been Wronged
One of the most comforting truths in Scripture is that God sees what was hidden. Nothing about betrayal is invisible to Him—not the lies, not the secrecy, and not the impact it had on you.
Psalm 103:6 reminds us that “the Lord works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed.” Justice here doesn’t mean revenge. It means God steps in where harm occurred and says, I see this—and I care. In fact, the Hebrew translation of justice (mishpat) “serves as a special function in God’s economy . . . . At its core, mispat isn’t so much about a question of innocence and guilt as much as honor and shame” (McLelland 36). God’s economy moves a betrayed woman from a place of dishonor to honor and covers her shame.
This truth became real for me during the full therapeutic disclosure process. In the weeks leading up to it, I found myself listening repeatedly to “Protector” by Kim Walker-Smith. So when my husband’s words became too heavy to bear that day, I stepped out of the room and began quietly reciting the lyrics. In that moment, I realized I wasn’t alone—God was there with me, listening to every devastating truth.
The shame of marrying such a man and the familiar ache of never being enough pressed hard against my chest. But as I spoke those words, something shifted. My head lifted. The tears slowed. I saw clearly that there was nothing I could have done to prevent his choices—so how could I be to blame? Instead of holding me responsible for what I lacked, God met me as my defender, lifting my shame and restoring my dignity. I didn’t know how healing would unfold, but I knew I could trust Him to hold what I could not.
Releasing Self-Blame Is an Act of Trust
Letting go of self-blame often means releasing the belief that you must fix, explain, or carry the consequences of someone else’s choices. That can feel terrifying. But Scripture gently invites us to place justice back where it belongs—with God.
Romans 12:19 reassures us that God handles what we cannot. And Romans 8:38–39 anchors us in this truth: nothing—not betrayal, not anger, not self-doubt—can separate you from God’s love.
Healing doesn’t begin when you figure everything out. It begins when you stop blaming yourself for what you did not cause—and allow God’s justice to bring both truth and tenderness to your story.
1 McLelland, Kristi. Jesus and Women – Bible Study Book with Video Access: In the First Century and Now. Lifeway Christian Resources, 2022.