'God has left me for a purpose': Trauma and healing in Nigeria

Asabe* still remembers the exact words from the armed herdsmen. “When they entered, they kept boasting and speaking in Fulani,” she says. “In the middle of the night, armed Fulani militant herdsmen hurled threats at her and her family: “Where is your God? He should come down so that we will kill Him before killing you, His followers.’”

On April 14, 2025, around midnight, armed the militants stormed Asabe’s community in the Bassa Local Government Area of northern Nigeria’s Plateau State. Asabe and her children were asleep in different rooms when they woke up to the sound of gunshots.

Fulani militants have attacked the Irigwe land, where Asabe lived, since 2001. Throughout 2025, Fulani militants attacked at least 28 communities in Plateau State, including Asabe’s.

She recalls how the extremists came to the village. At one point, they surrounded her family’s house.

“When the door opened, they came in and took my son, Jerry. He was 14 years old … and they slaughtered him like an animal.” Jerry was her eldest. “Then they picked James and Jacob…” Her sons, only 10 and 2 years old, were burned alive.

Asabe, her daughter Joanna and her mother-in-law remained huddled inside the bathroom, knowing that as soon as they stepped out, the men would shoot or hack them to death. Some attackers tried forcing the door open, but Asabe and her mother-in-law blocked it with everything they had in them.

Asabe’s husband, Moses, knowing he would be killed next, hid in the ceiling. The attackers looted valuables, set the house on fire, and left Asabe and her remaining family to burn.

The heat from the flames grew unbearable. Asabe decided to risk it and get out, even if it meant being shot. The door was burning hot, and she couldn’t open it. When Asabe screamed for help, villagers came to their rescue. Then she remembered Moses was still in the house.

“I stood and watched my neighbors carry my husband in their arms,” she says. Moses was pulled out of the ceiling and taken to the hospital. She would only later learn that his injuries were fatal, too severe to treat.

Asabe was also rushed to the hospital. She had burns on her body and foot. But before she left the house, she ran back to it, where she saw her son’s mutilated bodies. “They macheted Jerry and divided his head into three … for James and Jacob, they covered them with some clothes and set them on fire.” James’ body was left unrecognizable.

Guilt and grief

Asabe still struggles with thoughts of guilt. Could she have done anything to save them?

“When it happened, I kept thinking that had I known [they were coming for us], we wouldn’t have slept in the house that night.”

Altogether, 52 people were killed that day—only one of many mass killings that took place in Nigeria last year.

The violence is meant to cripple the church. The killing is targeted, purposefully done to hurt the church and weaken her ability to fulfill the Great Commission. Husbands like Moses are killed intentionally because they are the providers and protectors of their families. Militants know they are also often the leaders in the church. And young boys, like Jerry, James and Jacob, are killed, erasing a part of the future generation of the church.

The loss of the men and boys in a family leaves the women and girls vulnerable, unable to provide for themselves or protect themselves against future attacks—and usually severely traumatized. Asabe knows this firsthand.

The day of the mass funeral, Asabe was in no condition to attend. This unavoidable absence, coupled with the fact that Asabe never saw the bodies of her husband and her son, James, has made grieving very difficult. Visiting their graves is especially hard. She has nothing left to remember them by, as everything was destroyed in the fire.

Little Joanna, Asabe’s youngest, has been a source of comfort for her mother. Though only six years old, the little girl reminds her mother of God’s justice and eternal perspective. “Joanna says to me, ‘A day is coming that God will gather the evil and punish them.’ We have been rescued, and I will one day see her dad and her siblings.”

Joanna’s words and God’s eternal promise bring strength. “I had faith that God used my daughter to help me,” Asabe says. “The third day after the incident, I became strong and stopped crying, and God sent the Holy Spirit, and He comforted me.”

The hard work of forgiveness

Even so, dealing with the trauma hasn’t been easy. It’s been a difficult road to recovery. There were even times when Asabe thought about ending her life. The anger and bitterness could have easily consumed her and everyone around her.

But six months after the attack in October 2025, Open Doors’ local partners invited Asabe to be part of a five-day trauma care program at the Shalom trauma center, supported by Open Doors.

The biblically based counselling she received at the center took her through the process of grief and understanding trauma.

“What has strengthened me in life is attending fellowship in church and church programs,” she says, adding that the Word of God has also brought solace. Asabe has learned about God’s sovereignty. “Truthfully, when I found myself in this difficult situation, I went back to study the Scriptures and [found strength] in the book of Job,” she says. “I read chapter one and stopped at chapter three. What I learned from these verses is that God is the one who gives everything, and He is one who takes them back at the time He deems fit. Even my children that I am mourning for... When God was to give them to me, He did not consult with me, and when He chose to take them, He was not obligated to consult me.”

“I want to thank God,” Asabe says. “Sincerely, when I came back from healing, I was so happy for the teaching I received.”Today, she is even able to speak to Fulani people and talk about God with them.That wasn’t possible right after the attack.

She remembers the first time she got into a keke (a local type of rickshaw used for transportation) with some Fulani people after losing her husband and sons and boldly telling them, “Even if I die in the keke, I know where I am going. Go and tell your people that I felt the pain of the fire, but if they don’t repent and stop the killings, a day is coming when they will face the wrath of God. Nobody will remain on earth forever.”

After receiving trauma care, Asabe was able to do the hard work of forgiving her attackers and love the local Fulani people. This past Christmas presented another opportunity.

“Where I live now, we are close to a Fulani settlement. Six Fulani ladies were passing when I heard a man shouting [at them]. Anytime Christians see Fulani, they think they are there to stir up trouble,” Asabe explains. “I said he should call them over to me. They came to me and I told them, ‘My children, sit down.’ That day, I gave them food, and they ate. I also tied chin-chin (a Nigerian biscuit often shared during Christmas) in a bag and gave it to them because God has said I should forgive them.”

But she also knows firsthand that forgiveness requires daily surrender. “Because I am flesh and blood, even if I forgive, sometimes I become so angry with them again, as if it happened today,” she says candidly. “Sincerely I have forgiven, because even if I see a Fulani, I will greet him. I am praying for them that God will change them.”

‘Pray for me’

Recognizing her deep and ongoing need for prayer, Asabe asks us to pray for her: “I thank you for all you are doing for the gospel. Pray for me so that I will also pray for others as you help pray for me.

“Please help me pray because losing my husband has brought a lot of problems for me. He died and left me with two children, especially the little one. The oldest is married, but the youngest is with me. Please pray for me that she will grow to know Jesus. Please join me in prayer because sometimes I relive this, and sometimes I feel as if the incident just happened today, and I will continue to cry.

She asks us to pray for many Christians who have suffered violence and are displaced from their homes. “Please pray that God will help them because we are facing a lot of persecution in Nigeria. I am not the only one. There are many widows like me in Nigeria whose husbands were killed. Please pray for us, that God will strengthen us, and that God will make these attacks stop, so that we can go back to our home. Some of us don’t even have homes. The killings have left us homeless or we have left our homes. Pray for us that we will be able to return to our ancestral homes.”

Time has been a great healer, but Asabe continues to receive support and care from her community and Open Doors partners. She is also more motivated to live a life that honors God and serves her community. She is part of a women’s fellowship and a widows’ group.

“God Himself chose me and set me in a group of widows … so that we can encourage each other and pray and worship God together,” she says. Then she adds a surprising comment—a reflection of Asabe’s deep and growing faith. “We tell God we are grateful because we did not pick ourselves to become members of the group of widows. But He is the one who selected us, and He knows how He will take care of us.”

In this faithful widow’s mind and heart, her prayer is clear: “God has left me for a purpose, and I am asking Him to help me fulfill that purpose.”

*Names changed for security reasons.