Edition #1: For Glory’s Sake
Some pain lives quietly inside us—screaming in ways the world cannot see. It’s the kind of pain that can make you feel utterly alone, even in a crowded room. From age nine through my freshman year of college, I endured years of torment and bullying from my peers. Much of it centered on a health condition that dramatically changed my appearance—the loss of my hair and a body that suddenly seemed out of control. I realized at a young age just how unpredictable and uncontrollable life could be, with no real means of escape, refuge, or support. Somehow—God kept me through it all. I didn’t know how to express the swirl of emotions inside me, so I learned to be “strong”, to take the hits silently, and to keep achieving, performing, and checking off endless goals—even when they felt hollow. Layer this on top of other traumas and past abuse, and it became a petri dish for seeing the world as unsafe, void of the love I desperately longed to give and never seemed to receive, and life that felt like me against the world.
It’s in thinking back to this internal chaos, this sense of isolation and brokenness, that the story of the man born blind in John 9 resonates so deeply. Here is someone who has lived his entire life in darkness, marked by limitation, and seemingly condemned for something outside his control—yet whose story points to a greater purpose beyond what is visible. Like many of us, he faced the world’s questions, assumptions, and judgments: “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” It’s a question that quietly echoes in most hearts wrestling with pain, asking why suffering exists and seeking to make sense of hardship. But into this heavy narrative of blame and confusion, Jesus speaks with gentle authority and clarity. His words cut through the human tendency to assign fault and seek easy explanations for suffering:
“It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,”Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.” (John 9:3, NLT)
With this, Jesus reframes the story entirely. The man’s blindness is not a punishment or a mark of rejection—it’s a sacred space where God’s power can be revealed and transformation can begin. What we often label as brokenness or limitation becomes, in God’s hands, an open door for grace to bloom—sometimes in ways we never expect.
The apostle Paul echoes this hope, reminding us,
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28, NIV)
Even when pain feels permanent, even when wounds seem too heavy to carry, nothing is wasted. God meets our weakness with His strength, quietly shaping us in ways we cannot always see. Transformation isn’t a single moment—it’s a steady, unfolding process. Healing happens in the gentle intersections of grace and vulnerability, when we allow God to meet us in the parts of ourselves we keep hidden—even the raw, unseen corners of our hearts.
As I reflect on my own years of struggle—the bullying, the loss of control, and the heart that learned to numb itself—I see the same thread of hope woven through my story as in the life of the man born blind. He was healed, fully and miraculously, and his life became a living testament to God’s power and grace. In Christ, we too are healed—whether in this life or in eternity. This is the deeper truth that sustains me: my wounds, my long seasons of uncertainty, the internal battles I have faced—they are all part of a greater story of redemption. It is well with my soul because the God who holds me is carefully, tenderly weaving every moment of struggle into a tapestry of grace and hope.
As we journey through our own seasons of pain, uncertainty, or loss, we are invited to trust in this same divine weaving. Each tear, every sigh, every quiet moment of longing or fear becomes a stitch in the fabric of a life held firmly in God’s hands. Our healing may be gradual, our understanding incomplete, but the promise is sure: God is at work, and His power can transform what feels broken into a witness of His glory.
So, take heart. Breathe. Lean into the hope that even the deepest wounds are not wasted. Allow yourself to rest in God’s presence, to trust His timing, and to receive His peace. As the man born blind experienced the light, and as my own story continues to unfold, we can live in the confidence that we are being held, healed, and made whole—every step of the way.
Healing in His Hands
When our bodies endure pain or limits, doubts arise naturally. Yet, the story of the man born blind reminds us God’s power is always present—quietly working in our struggles. May we find courage to trust the healing journey, knowing God is weaving every moment into His story of restoration.
A Prayer for Healing and Hope
Lord,
In the quiet moments of struggle, when healing feels slow and the weight is heavy,
remind me that Your power is made perfect in my weakness.
Help me to trust beyond what I see,
to rest deeply in Your love that never fails.
Carry my wounds with Your tender hands,
and weave my pain into a story of hope and renewal.
Grant me patience and peace as I wait,
knowing that You are working all things for good.
Thank You for holding me close, now and always.
Amen.
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Welcome God’s Power into Your Vulnerability
Open your heart to the truth that God’s power can shine brightest through your struggles. Whisper this prayer as you face each challenging moment:
“Jesus, I invite Your healing power into my weakness. Let Your strength be made perfect in me.”Song to hold close:
“Gracefully Broken” — Tasha Cobbs Leonard (Becoming, Movement 3)
Let the lyrics remind you that brokenness can be beautiful in God’s hands. -
Even when healing seems slow or invisible, God is working a greater good. Speak aloud Paul’s promise to anchor your hope:
“God works all things for good in my life.” (Romans 8:28)Song to carry you:
“I Trust You” — James Fortune (Becoming, Movement 3)
Lean into trust as a daily act of faith. -
When pain weighs heavy, allow yourself moments of stillness. Rest isn’t weakness—it’s a holy surrender that invites God’s peace to restore your spirit and body.
Prayer for rest:
“Lord, hold me in Your peace. Renew my body, mind, and soul as I rest in You.”Song to breathe with:
“Stillness” — Lion & Bear (Becoming, Movement 3)
Feel the quiet power of God’s presence calming your soul. -
Healing often unfolds best when we’re not alone. Reach out to trusted friends, family, or faith communities to share your journey and receive encouragement.
Reflection:
Who around you can be a steady presence in this season? How can you allow God to use community as part of your healing? -
Healing is rarely linear. It’s a dance of grace and perseverance, where God meets us in the waiting and the wondering. Trust that each step—no matter how small—is part of the transformation God is weaving.
Song to inspire:
“Ask Seek Pray” — River Valley Ages (Becoming, Movement 3)
Let this be a reminder to keep moving forward in faith and hope.