A generational curse can be understood as an uncleansed iniquity—something unresolved and unaddressed—that grows in strength from one generation to the next. It doesn’t just affect individuals; it can influence entire families and even those who come into close relationship with them. Many people live with patterns they don’t fully understand, repeating cycles that seem bigger than personal choices alone.

“I sound just like my mother!” I’ve said that. Have you? Our words come out in a quirky saying, an idle threat, or a certain tone of voice, and images of our mother saying those same words flash through our minds. Let me tell you: It’s scarier to hear an adult daughter speak and to think, “My daughter sounds like me!”

Generational sin is often misunderstood. It is not about being guilty of someone else’s choices, nor is it about God holding one generation accountable for another. Rather, it reflects how patterns of broken thinking, behavior, and belief can be passed down if they are never brought into the light. These patterns may not always be obvious,

There are those of us who believe that you must be good, brave, or virtuous to be used by God and leave a solid legacy behind. We let our past disqualify us, when God will use that very past as a testimony of His love and grace.

You do a quick internet search, you’ll see that my story includes the devastation of an abortion of a wanted baby within the context of marriage. I write with a heart that will always lead with love and compassion on the topic of abortion, untangled from political opinions. This piece is intended to discuss how abortion, like other painful decisions, can sometimes stem from generational patterns within families that not only impact women but also men, extended families, and

My parents divorced when I was three. My father was bound by alcohol and drug addiction for most of his short life. He died of lung cancer. My mother, bound by food addiction, lost 100 pounds at least three different times in her life. All of my grandparents used some form of tobacco daily, either cigarettes or chewing tobacco.

No giant could take me out. No hardship could crush me. No weapon formed against me could prosper (...and it can’t). But I had developed a cycle of proving my strength by what I did instead of just being a woman of strength. Because when you operate from the identity of being a woman of strength, you can have moments of weakness and still be a woman of strength.

here comes a point in our walk with Christ where we begin to notice patterns, not just in our lives but in the generations before us. The way we respond to stress, the way we process emotions, even the things we prioritize… they don’t always start with us. Some of these patterns are beautiful—faith, resilience, love. Others require us to pause, reflect, and invite God into a deeper level of healing.

The term “it could never happen to me” was a lost platitude in our family. When one realizes that “it” can actually happen, one lives life a little jumpy, fearing what may lurk in the shadows. And voilà, the dangerous root of fear takes hold, watered by experience. Could fear be a generational sin? I believe so. Generations can pass down that spirit through actions and words. In my case, “taking the edge off” with the wine was my way of coping with anxiety from work situatio

You may not have had words for it then, but you could feel it. You knew something was off. So you learned to read the room. You learned when to stay quiet, when to keep the peace, and how to just keep going. You smiled, you showed up, you did what needed to be done, but under the surface your body was telling you, “Something is not right here.”

b y Kathy Van Benthuysen After 30 years in the classroom, I learned something that changed the way I see both teaching and parenting: Children don’t learn the most from what we say. They learn from what we repeat. I could have the best lesson planned and the clearest expectations, but what stuck with them was always what I modeled consistently. And the same is true at home. Whether we mean to or not, we are all teaching an invisible curriculum… every single day. For a long ti

I’ve never been the type to sit back and wait for someone else to solve a problem. When I see a need, I move. When I spot a gap, I fill it. And when I recognized that an entire generation of young women was being set up to fail, not because they lacked potential but because they lacked access to the tools, skills, and support they needed, I knew I had to build something from scratch to change that reality.

We are all familiar with the physical traits we inherit from our parents and grandparents. But what often goes unnoticed are the behaviors passed down through generations. The way we respond to stress. The way we speak to ourselves. The way we care for our bodies. And the way we turn—or don’t turn—to God. These patterns quietly shape our lives. And whether or not you have children, you have influence on your family, your relationships, and the generations that follow.

Reflecting on how careful I’ve always been to be the “good girl,” I began to recognize a hard truth: An outwardly polished “good girl” appearance didn’t necessarily mean a nourished spiritual life. In fact, my years of people-pleasing and perfectionism were entirely focused on one goal: image management.

Does every family need some type of generational healing? The answer is most likely yes, because we are all sinful humans, and if you’re a believer, we are in the sanctification process until the end. This is noted in 1 Thessalonians 5:23: “May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul, and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

This time, my prayer was different. I asked God to change me—my heart, my mind, my attitudes, whatever He wanted. That prayer was difficult because it required me to get myself out of the way.

I went on to complete the 40 days, which took me about 45 days. And it was during this time that God opened my eyes to prayer in new, transformative ways.

You’re sitting at your office desk, waiting for payday to pay a stack of unpaid bills, while your adult daughter stops by for some motherly advice, and your phone buzzes with a text from your mother that her oxygen levels are dipping and she needs you to come by after work. You feel less like the "virtuous woman" of Proverbs 31 and more like a human panini—pressed between the heavy weights of two generations, with the heat of a toxic workplace turned up to high.

I’ve carried a soft place in my heart for girls who live in that tension. Maybe it’s because I’ve been there—the small-town whispers, the sharp edges of words meant to sting, the ache of feeling just outside of belonging. I once thought that moving, studying, changing everything around me would dissolve it.

When shame tightly clings, prayer can become the very instrument needed to loosen its grip by reawakening truth, re-centering our identity in Christ, and opening a channel through which healing flows. “Do not fear, for you will not be ashamed; neither be disgraced.” (Isaiah 54:4) This promise allows you to show up proudly in this world with a Kingdom daughter posture and purpose.