A Somatic Meditation on the Scene Before Pilate: Power, Truth, and the Wounds of Spiritual Abuse
By Ashley E. Schumacher, MS, LAPC
Music Suggestion: ‘Kyrie Eleison’ by Salt of the Sound
youtu.be/NJMqWfs0zQ4?si=iUtxoS0uDvNRAGhn
Find a quiet, sacred space where you can be fully supported—whether sitting, lying down, or resting in stillness.
Let your feet gently touch the ground, feeling the earth beneath you.
Allow your body to feel the weight of support, the grounding presence beneath you.
Take a slow, deep breath in, filling your lungs.
As you exhale, notice how your body responds to the simple act of breathing.
Feel any tension you may be holding—whether in your chest, stomach, or shoulders—and, without forcing, allow it to soften.
This breath is an invitation, not a demand.
Let the breath deepen and slow naturally. Each exhale is a softening, a release.
You are not in a rush here. There is space to feel, to be present with yourself.
Now, in your own time, begin to imagine yourself standing before Pilate.
The room is cold, stark, and full of a deep, oppressive tension.
You stand alone, surrounded by cold stone, eyes heavy with judgment, yet you are seen. Before you, Pilate sits—this figure of power, so close to life and death, his words heavy with authority. The power he wields is thick in the air, suffocating your very being.
He speaks, his voice cutting through the silence with chilling detachment: “Do you not know that I have the power to crucify you? And I have the power to release you?”
Pause.
Allow yourself to feel the weight of his words. How does your body respond to them?
Do you feel your chest tighten, your throat close up? Is there a knot in your stomach, a sense of rising panic or helplessness? Maybe you feel a deep, internal resistance—a part of you wanting to scream or run, but something inside keeps you rooted in place.
Notice these responses in your body. This is your body speaking. This is your truth.
Titrate Pilate's words: “Do you not know that I have the power to crucify you?”
Do not rush through them. Let them land on you fully, as cold and oppressive as they are.
They are words that many of us have heard in some form throughout our lives, especially within spiritual and religious contexts—those in positions of authority, using their power to manipulate, to control, to silence. These words might echo in your mind as you recall times when the voices of authority in the Church, whether knowingly or unknowingly, used their power to oppress, to twist, to harm.
You may recall the times you were made to feel small, to feel invisible or unworthy—times when the very faith that was meant to protect and heal you became a tool for manipulation.
You may have been forced to bend your will, to comply with demands that were not in line with your heart or your God-given dignity. Perhaps your experience was one of gaslighting, where you were made to question your own reality, your own sense of worth, or your voice.
Feel the weight of that in your body now.
This is spiritual abuse.
The control, the guilt, the manipulation—it is the cruelty of being told that your worth is contingent upon obedience to a system that doesn’t recognize your dignity. Feel the heaviness of this truth. You are allowed to feel the weight of it in your body—do not rush through it.
Now, pendulate your awareness to Christ's response: “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above.”
Breathe in deeply. This response is not a casual rebuttal—it is a statement of truth, a declaration of authority that is higher than anything Pilate or any earthly ruler could ever wield.
Notice how your body shifts as you sit with His words. The tension you felt in your chest might soften, the tightness in your throat loosens, and a deep breath fills the space. There is power in His response—not in the form of brute force, but in the profound, transcendent truth of divine sovereignty. His words are the antidote to the oppressive weight of earthly power.
They push back against all the lies that power is rooted in control, domination, or manipulation.
His words are a balm for the wound of spiritual abuse. They tell you that no one—not a priest, not a bishop, not any human power—has authority over you unless it is given to them by the One who made you. It is an invitation to reclaim your worth, to reassert your voice, your humanity, in the face of those who would use their power to silence you or distort your truth.
Let this truth sink deeper into your body. You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above.
Breathe in, and feel the sovereignty of Christ wash over you like a balm. This is the God who is not controlled by any human hand, who is not subject to the whims of earthly rulers, and yet, He chooses to enter into this space of powerlessness for you. This is the power that heals, that restores. It is the power of vulnerability and truth, the power that holds us through every trial, every moment of betrayal, and every fear of abandonment.
Feel the contrast in your body. The weight of Pilate’s words may still linger in your chest, but now Christ’s words are heavier—infinitely more real, infinitely more liberating. They bring comfort, but also a piercing clarity that what you’ve endured, what you may still be enduring, is not the final word.
Titrate the quiet resonance of His authority in your body, deep and grounding.
Let it shift the tension in your shoulders, the strain in your jaw. You may feel a faint release, a subtle easing of the weight you’ve carried. Christ’s words pierce through the falsehoods of power, cutting through the lies and the shame that power has inflicted on you.
Let the reality of His sovereignty—the sovereignty that you have access to—fill you with a quiet, unshakable peace.
You are seen.
You are loved.
Breathe in the freedom that comes with knowing that no earthly authority can strip you of your worth, your voice, your truth. You are not alone in this.
As you rest in this space, know that, like Christ, you are held in a greater power. You are not a victim of earthly power. You are not defined by those who seek to control or manipulate. The power they hold is temporary. The power of the One who sees and loves you is eternal.
Feel His presence, steadfast and unwavering.
As you slowly begin to bring your awareness back to the present moment, let yourself settle into the space around you.
Feel the support of the ground beneath you. Let your breath return to a natural rhythm, grounding you, anchoring you in this sacred truth.
Remember, the pain and the fear are real. The oppression and the control are real.
But Christ’s power, His sovereignty, His love—they are infinitely more real.
You are held.
You are loved.
You are free.
Expanded Version:
A Somatic Meditation on the Scene Before Pilate: Power, Truth, and the Wounds of Spiritual Abuse
Find a quiet, sacred space where you can be fully supported—whether sitting, lying down, or resting in stillness. Allow your feet to gently touch the ground, feeling the earth beneath you.
Let the weight of your body sink into the space where you are held, trusting that the earth supports you completely, as if you are enveloped by a loving embrace.
Take a slow, deep breath in, filling your lungs. As you exhale, notice any areas of tension—whether in your chest, stomach, or shoulders.
Gently invite these areas to soften and release with each exhale, without rushing. The body holds truths we may not yet fully understand—let each breath be an invitation to listen.
Feel the rhythm of your breath. With each inhale, you bring in the present moment. With each exhale, you release the burdens of the past. This is not about forcing, but about being here.
With every breath, you are invited into the sacredness of the present moment.
Now, as you settle into this space, begin to imagine yourself standing before Pilate.
The room is cold, stark, full of harsh, unyielding stone. You are surrounded by shadows, the weight of unseen eyes pressing upon you. Pilate sits before you, a figure of power, his gaze indifferent yet piercing. The air feels thick, heavy with judgment, and there is a deep, suffocating silence.
He speaks, his voice a razor-sharp contrast to the stillness, cutting through the silence: “Do you not know that I have the power to crucify you? And I have the power to release you?”
Pause here.
Allow these words to settle into your body. Do not rush to move past them.
Feel how your body responds. Is there tightness in your chest, a heaviness in your shoulders, a sense of constriction in your throat? Is there a rising tension in your stomach, a knot of anxiety or fear?
Perhaps there’s a part of you that wants to shrink, to run, to hide from the weight of these words.
Perhaps you feel helpless in the face of an authority that demands your submission.
Notice how your body reacts. This is the language of trauma. This is the wound of spiritual abuse—the manipulation, the silence, the control. These are the words that are whispered in the hallways of faith communities, often cloaked in the guise of authority, using power to crush the spirit and silence the voice.
Allow these words to echo in your body—feel the truth of them, painful as it is.
This is the weight of spiritual abuse.
Now, gently turn your awareness toward Christ’s response: “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above.”
Let these words wash over you. Let them slowly seep into the deepest corners of your body, touching the places where shame and manipulation have left their mark. His words are not a dismissal, but a declaration of divine sovereignty. A sovereignty that cuts through the illusions of power that are rooted in control and fear. A sovereignty that transcends human cruelty and sets the captives free.
Feel the shift in your body as you sit with Christ’s response. There may be a subtle relaxation in your shoulders, a deep release in your chest. You may feel the softening of tension in your throat, the lifting of a weight you hadn’t fully realized you were carrying.
Christ’s response is the balm for the wound of spiritual abuse. His words pierce through the falsehoods that seek to bind you. They remind you that no earthly power—no manipulation, no control, no coercion—can strip you of your inherent worth, your voice, your dignity. You are not defined by those who abuse their power. You are defined by the One who created you, who sees you, who loves you.
As you breathe deeply, let this truth seep into the deepest parts of you. "You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above." This is the truth that shatters every lie that power is rooted in domination, in oppression, in silencing the voice of the vulnerable.
Feel His love—a love that holds you in the face of every fear, every betrayal, every moment of shame. It is a love that does not deny the pain, but holds you through it. A love that is stronger than any false power, any abuse, any manipulation.
Feel the contrast.
The oppressive weight of Pilate’s words may still linger in your chest, but now Christ’s words are heavier—infinitely more real, infinitely more liberating, infinitely more sovereign. His words do not dismiss the reality of the pain you’ve endured, but they offer you something far more powerful: the truth of God’s sovereignty, His justice, and His love.
This is a love that restores. A love that reclaims what has been stolen, that heals what has been wounded. It is the truth that nothing in this world can strip you of your worth, your dignity, your voice.
Titrate the resonance of His authority deep into your body. Let it fill every part of you, calming the storm of tension, replacing fear with peace, shame with affirmation, isolation with connection.
You are seen. You are loved. You are free.
Breathe deeply, feeling the freedom that comes with knowing that no earthly power can strip you of your worth. You are not defined by the control of others. You are defined by the One who sees and loves you.
Slowly, bring your awareness back to the present moment.
Feel the grounding presence beneath you, the support of the earth, the rhythm of your breath. Allow yourself to gently settle into the peace that comes from knowing that the power of the One who loves you is unshakable, eternal and true.
Remember: the pain is real, the fear is real, but Christ’s power, His sovereignty, and His love—they are infinitely more real.
You are held.
You are loved.
You are free.