Real God. Real You. Real Healing.

Over the last two months, the learning curve of myself has been steep, like, Everest steep. It’s been one of those seasons where God doesn’t just knock gently on the door of your heart, but kicks it wide open and says, “Let’s deal with this mess.” And honestly, I didn’t see it coming. I started going to Spiritual Direction, which is basically like therapy, but with more Jesus and less couches. It helped me pause, breathe, and take a hard look at my soul. I re-examined what triggers me. I finally admitted that I can be hurt. And not just surface-level hurt. I’m talking about REAL BAD, gut-punch, soul-aching kind of hurt. The kind you try to ignore until it screams so loud it interrupts your entire life. What I found down inside wasn’t necessarily new. These weren’t surprise traumas or hidden sins I’d never seen before. No, they were things I had buried so deep, so neatly, that I convinced myself they didn’t even matter anymore. I had acted my way into believing I was okay. Key word there: acted. You’re gonna hear that word a lot, because it was the soundtrack of this whole season.

Let’s be real, it's easy to act like everything’s okay when everyone else around you is doing the same. We smile, we say “I’m good,” we quote a Bible verse or two, and we move on. But under that mask, many of us are quietly bleeding. I was bleeding. And I thought I was managing it...until I wasn’t. In the beginning of all this, I still had the awareness to invite God into my pain. Even if the dark stuff was buried deep, I had not locked the door completely. God still had access, even if I wasn’t handing Him the keys. But somewhere along the way, that changed. Between dealing with health concerns, keeping up with the demands of ministry, and drowning in the never-ending “to-do” list of being a leader, I started to shut God out. Not intentionally. Not out of rebellion. But more out of exhaustion. Survival mode became my default. I let the pain simmer, telling myself, “I’ll deal with that later.” But pain doesn’t just disappear because we ignore it. It finds its way to the surface, usually when we least expect it. And that’s exactly what happened. One of my triggers got bumped, and BOOM. All that buried hurt erupted. And when that happened? I hurt some people. I made some mistakes. I disappointed myself. I acted in ways that didn’t line up with who I want to be or who I believe God created me to be.

One of the hardest parts of that moment was realizing that being triggered can make you react in ways that feel foreign, even shocking. I didn’t intend to lash out. I didn’t wake up that morning planning to fail. But I did. And afterward, all I could do was sit in the shame of it. Until someone spoke something simple but profound to me. They said, “Real God. Real You. Real Healing.” At first, I thought, “Dang, that’s good.” But a few minutes later I asked, “Wait, what does that even mean?” And they explained: it means God wants the real me. Not the polished version. Not the Sunday morning version. Not the “I’ve got this all together” version. Just me, as I am. And in giving Him the real me, I open the door to real healing. See, the Lord already knows what’s down there. The anger. The disappointment. The shame. The trauma. The bitterness. He knows it’s there, and He still says, “Let me in.” But here’s the thing, letting someone into those spaces, even God Himself, takes trust. It requires vulnerability. It means risking being fully seen. And that’s scary! It’s scary because we worry about what He will say. What He will think. What He will feel. Will He still love me? Will He still call me His own? Will He look at me differently? But what I’ve come to learn, what I needed to learn, is that God’s love is not up for negotiation. His thoughts about me don’t shift based on my brokenness. His affection doesn’t waver when I fail. So yes, I can bring Him the real me. The hurting me. The confused me. The “I have messed up more times than I can count” me. And in doing so, I begin to experience real healing. This healing is not always quick. It doesn’t come with a magic prayer or a sudden emotional breakthrough. But it does come. Slowly, steadily. As I return to Him again and again, He meets me. And He doesn’t meet me with condemnation, He meets me with compassion. He doesn’t say, “You should be better by now.” He says, “I’ve been waiting right here for you.” So here’s what I’m learning to do: stop acting. Stop pretending. Stop hiding. Here’s to being real, with God, with myself, and with others. Here’s to trusting that real healing is found in the presence of a real God who is not intimidated by my wounds. And here’s to hoping that, as I let Him all the way in, I’ll come all the way out, restored, healed, and free.

Maybe you need to hear Real God. Real You. Real Healing. Maybe you’ve been carrying wounds for so long they’ve started to feel like part of your identity. Maybe you’ve learned how to function with the limp, convincing yourself that as long as you keep serving, smiling, and showing up, everything’s fine. But God knows better. He sees the weight you’re carrying and gently says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28, NIV). This isn’t a call to fix yourself first. It’s an invitation to bring your real, raw, unfiltered self before a God who is already deeply familiar with every hidden place in you, and loves you still. Real God. Real You. Real Healing. It’s more than a phrase. It’s the pathway to restoration. Healing begins when honesty meets grace, when we stop performing and start trusting. So maybe today is your day to let the mask slip. To take a breath. To fall into the arms of the One who never turns away. Because the same God who met me in the middle of my mess is ready to meet you in yours, with mercy, not shame, and healing in His hands. You don’t have to act anymore. You just have to be real.