Healing in The Deepest Places

There’s something beautiful and sacred about being undone and brought low in the presence of God. When He lovingly reveals the pride, impatience, or hidden idols in our hearts, not to shame us—but to break us open in the best way. It’s in that surrender that something holy begins to grow and we discover lasting healing in the deepest places.

For most of my life, I grew up with the belief that performance felt like the price of love. Where being “good” or “put together” seemed to earn approval, and where weakness felt like failure. I learned to equate worth with how well I could meet or exceed expectations, whether spoken or silently implied. I carried that same mindset into my faith, often believing I had to strive or prove myself to be accepted by Him.

As a result, I started working far beyond my capacity, pouring myself out until I was emotionally and physically spent. I did not even know how to show up vulnerably or imperfectly. So, I overworked, overcommitted, and said yes when I should have said no. I poured myself out until I was empty, and then felt frustrated or withdrawn when people required more from me than I could possibly give.

It has been a season of deep reflection, sanctification, and brutal honesty. The kind of season where God gently, yet firmly, uncovers things I hadn’t realized that needed His attention and care. Areas where I could have been far more patient, more kind, more thoughtful, more loving, and more intentional. Areas where I put my hope in the wrong things and the wrong people, leading to resentment, bitterness and burnout. An ongoing cycle that was exhausting.

For so long, I equated righteousness with behavior, doing the “right” things, avoiding the “wrong” ones, and staying in control. But God has been gentle and patient to guide me deeper into revelation and truth. Righteousness isn’t a performance, it’s a position. It’s the standing I’ve been given through Jesus, not something I earn or keep by striving. And my identity not being rooted in how useful I am, how others perceive me, or how well I manage my life, but rather a beloved daughter of God. One who is flawed and imperfect, yet fully known, fully loved and fully secure. It was from a deeper understanding of these truths where real transformation began and I noticed healing in the deepest places. And my hope and prayer is that you experience the same.

The Kindness of Conviction

One of the most unexpected gifts in this season has been the kindness of conviction. That feeling deep within your heart and gut that begins to challenge your way of thinking or doing things. Even the things you believe and held so tightly. It is not always comfortable at first, but I now see it as kindness. The conviction has come with a quiet, gentle and healing presence of the Holy Spirit. It has come with clarity, and a soft whisper of “I want more for you than this.”

Conviction is not condemnation but instead, a reminder that I am His, and He is committed to making me whole. It has not been about punishment, but rather deeper healing. Several years ago, God began to show me places where I was still performing, still trying to be strong for everyone else, still carrying the pressure to prove my worth, still acting out of hurt, still seeking the approval of others, still carrying a heavy backpack of unprocessed emotions, lies and beliefs, and still trying to “earn” love.

I’ve found myself being brought back to conversations where I could’ve paused and responded differently. But, instead of turning away in disappointment, He met me with mercy and grace. His Spirit was never accusatory, but a loving invitation to draw near, to be still, and to let Him lead. It was in those moments when I let truth in without defensiveness that something holy started to shift.

The Freedom in Forgiveness

There is such deep freedom in forgiveness. And not just in receiving it from God, but in seeking it. Laying down your pride and asking others for their forgiveness. Forgiving those who have wronged you knowingly or unknowingly. I’ve realized that asking for forgiveness from others softens me to receive His even more fully. It reminds me that I’m not defined by weak moments, but by the mercy of a Savior who already paid for them.

Forgiveness did not just touch and transform my soul. It also reached my body. When I began to truly receive God’s forgiveness and extend it to others, I felt the weight lift not just spiritually, but physically. There’s a kind of tension that lives in the body when we’re holding onto unspoken resentment, pain or guilt. It wears on our nervous system, our immune health, and even our ability to rest. But forgiveness is healing. It calms the places where fear once lived. It breathes peace into anxious thoughts. It softens the stress we didn’t even know we were carrying. It makes space for more joy.

As I’ve brought these moments before God, I’ve been met with compassion. He doesn’t throw my shortcomings back in my face. Instead, He lifts my face up to meet His gaze. I bring my lack. He gives me grace. Over and over again. And from that place of being forgiven, I’m learning to walk more freely, more gently, and more whole.

When Healing Becomes an Idol

Heath is a beautiful and good thing, but even good things can become idols when you expect them to do what only the Lord can. And somewhere along the way of not feeling well or wanting to feel better, you make healing an idol. Pain and illness have a way of making you reach for anything that promises relief or something “better.” I’ve had moments of my own grasping, so I recognize it more now in speaking and working with others dealing with health challenges. Often what they see and hear gets filtered through a lens of fear, and distorts reality.

Health is a gift, but it is not our savior.

Is pursuing optimal health a bad thing? Of course not. We are to take care and nurture our holy temples. Issues arise when the persona or health or healing takes center stage and priority of our hearts. It’s realizing that healing isn’t just something God gives, but that He is the healing.

Take it before the Lord and ask Him to reveal if you have made it an idol and allow Him to lovingly speak into it.

Blame Only Poisons Your Own Heart

Blaming others may feel like a form of self-protection, but in the end, it only poisons our own hearts. Shame and blame keep us stuck and in a mode of defensiveness and bitterness. I’ve learned that when I hold onto blame, I close myself off from the healing God wants to do in me. It might feel easier to point outward than to look inward. But I can confidently say that blaming never brings peace. It just prolongs pain.

John 8:7 says “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” This moment reveals the heart of Jesus. He redirects our impulse to accuse by inviting us to examine our own hearts first. It’s a call to humility, compassion, and the kind of grace that refuses to condemn. Instead of casting stones, Jesus offers restoration. Lay down the narrative that keeps accusing, and let grace rewrite the story.

God heals us through humility. When I take ownership of my part, even when others have failed me, it opens the door for grace to flood in. And in that grace, especially the past few years, I’ve found peace, clarity, and the courage to love without defense, and a type of healing that I did not even think was possible.

The Beauty of Sanctification

Sanctification begins not in our efforts to be better, but in the moment we stop resisting and finally let Him do what only He can do. The moments we let our walls down, open our hands, and say, “Lord, have Your way in me.”

It’s beautiful because it’s God’s work in us, not our own. As He sanctifies us, we become more disciplined and whole. We begin to live with more clarity in our eyes, a softened heart and deeper and stronger roots. We begin to abide and spiritual fruit begins to grow.

This kind of transformation is slow and sacred. Sanctification is the holy process of being refined, reshaped, and restored, not through shame, but through love. The daily laying down of our desires, expectations, and anything that doesn’t reflect Jesus so that we can be filled more fully with Him.

God’s Word brings healing because it speaks truth and life directly to our hearts. As we read Scripture, our minds are renewed, replacing lies and fear with God’s promises and peace (Romans 12:2). This renewal is part of sanctification, the process God uses to make us more like Christ. Through His Word, He heals us, transforms our thinking, and shapes us daily into His image, helping us grow in holiness and freedom.

Repentance That Births Healing

Repentance isn’t about punishing yourself or rehearsing your failures over and over. It’s about coming into agrement with truth. It is a humble and honest declaration of “Lord, You’re right and Your way is better.”

God isn’t looking to shame us. He wants to restore and redeem us. Through repentance and in my quiet time with Him, He has uncovered places that I didn’t even know were fractured. Occasions in my childhood when I came into agreement with lies. And that is all they are, lies.

He created space for me to understand the patterns of thinking, speaking, and responding that I once justified. He’s teaching me how to love more like Him, and not with my limited strength, but through the power of His Spirit. Each day, He’s softening what’s been hardened, healing what’s been hidden, and shaping me to reflect His heart more clearly. Repentance is not a sign of failure, but a place where healing is birthed.

Let Him Work

There is nothing too broken or too far gone that God can’t redeem and restore. Healing does not always mean cure, yet God desires wholeness. When it comes to our health, begin to ask and seek in faith. Choose to confess and forgive. Be quick to repent. Break agreements with lies. Nourish your body, mind and soul in a way that brings peace. Remind yourself that suffering can sanctify and that He is sovereign over all things. He even cares about who you are becoming in the process.

Let Him bring you to repentance. Not to punish, but to restore. Not to shame you, but to lift your face and remind you that this is not the end of your story.

Let Him show you the places where you’ve settled for less than His love so He can heal the ache that led you there.

Let Him point out the places of striving, the places where you’ve been trying to prove your worth, not to condemn you, but to whisper that you don’t have to earn what I’ve already freely given you.

Let Him remind you that surrender is never the end. it’s the beginning of something beautiful.

Let Him rewrite the way you see waiting— not as punishment, but as protection.

Let Him hold your heart as you lament and grieve— this is part of healing, and its healthy. Even Jesus wept.

Let Him guide you through decisions in your health journey— He is the greatest physician and guide.

Let Him teach you how to be loved again— not by performance, nor fear, but by grace.

Sowing Seeds of Humility

As I wrap this up, I reflect on an image a friend gave me a few years back. She saw me removing rocks from a field and dropping seeds of humility in their place. At the time, I was not even sure what it looked like practically, but soon thereafter, I was made aware.

Sowing humility doesn’t always look grand. It often happens in the quiet, unseen ways. It’s in admitting when we are wrong without needing to defend ourselves, and in listening to understand rather than respond. It’s choosing to apologize without conditions, to ask for help when you’d rather appear strong, and to celebrate someone else’s breakthrough while you’re still in the waiting.

Humility shows up in letting go of the need to be understood, in praying for those who have hurt you. It’s found in doing the thankless tasks, keeping private victories between you and God, and staying teachable even when you think you’ve grown past the lesson.

So I stand here and think back to every area I’ve fallen short and every person I could have loved more intentionally. There’s freedom in saying, forgive me.

These are the seeds that grow into something far deeper than recognition. They grow into peace, maturity, and the kind of strength only God can cultivate. And one day, what once felt like hidden obedience becomes the fruit of quiet faithfulness.

I believe God is still turning over the soil. Still planting something better. And I trust that whatever is done in humility, He can grow into peace, healing, and restoration. For His glory, not mine.

So my hope and encouragement for you is this— there is an invitation for healing in the deepest places. Not always the kind we think we need, but the kind God knows we can’t live without. A type of healing that changes you entirely, and from that overflow, changes the people around you.