On Sunday, September 13th, our church plant launched our first ever online worship service. It was a gift of grace to look across that Zoom screen and see all those supportive, encouraging faces. And as we closed the laptop and exhaled for the day, I found myself breathing more freely than I had in as long as I could remember.

Our last ministry assignment back home at the church that raised us up quickly became a tumultuous, toxic environment. It was the kind of world where leadership meetings were steeped in suspicion. And sanctuaries no longer felt like safe places. The air of division was as strong and stifling as the smoke-filled oxygen we’re breathing in the mist of California wildfires.

As one of the co-pastors of this church, the burden of responsibility fell heavily on my shoulders. I had to lean in and learn to bear the weight of it all without being crushed by it all. And while I stood steadfast in the role until the very end, it was only after I walked away that I realized how crumbling and crippling the long road had been. It took its toll. But it took me stepping outside of the vortex of chaos to realize just how harmful it had been.

Healing needed to run its course in and through me. My body needed a blood transfusion to take away all the pain and shame. But I had no idea where to start. And so at first, I just sat. Living room. Shades drawn. Couch and blanket. Pillow and head.

And then I journaled. And sang. And talked. And hiked. And yelled. And cussed. And journaled and sang and talked and hiked and yelled and cussed. Blood, sweat, and tears ushering me through the many stages of grief.

But the most catalytic event in this journey occurred a couple months in. I was led to pursue a 2-day personal, silent retreat in the Ozarks. A spiritual director named Judy sat with me and listened. Without suspicion. And for the first time, in a long time, I felt seen. Heard. And held. This woman was a strong, kind shepherd. And as she sent me off into my own time of personal retreat, she gave me a packet full of ideas to explore as I sought soul care, rest, and restoration. So, off I went. With the freedom to sit in God’s presence however I felt lead. A packet full of possibilities in hand.

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The Spirit did so much work in me over the course of those two days. Enough to fill out pages and pages in my journal. And I could write for hours here about it all. But I want to focus on one specific healing practice the Lord led me to that was particularly meaningful to me. And in turn, may be of benefit to you as well.

It was the end of my second night there. And before dinner, I sat on my own at a table with two blank pages before me. And these words just started falling onto the paper in black writing. One after the other. Each just as terrible as the one before.

These words weren’t just any words. They were words that had been spoken to me. Or about me. In a church meeting. In a church lobby. In a church parking lot. In an email. In a formal demand for my resignation. In a rumor. In a prayer gathering. In my own office or my own house.

Each one was painful to write and ugly to sit with. I didn’t like any of it. But rehashing these words, rehearsing this language was leading somewhere. And without even knowing where the Lord was taking me, I just kept exercising these demons.

I finished the last. And looked at the list. It was brutal. But I also knew, it wasn’t true. These words had held power over me. But I believed there was a greater power I needed to tap into. One that could bring real healing to these open wounds.

So I picked up the second piece of paper. And for each lie, I asked God to speak His truth over me. One at a time, word by word, God restored my humanity. Dignity. Purpose. And in his presence, by his power, I found healing.

As each true word came, I’d take a red crayon and with the blood of Christ at my fingertips, I’d cover over the lie of the enemy. Then with a yellow crayon, I’d underline the truth to highlight the light of God’s word. This was cathartic work. The work that can only be done sitting in the healing presence and power of God.

Liar was transformed to Truth Teller. False Prophet to Prophetic Pastor. Sole Divider to Bridge Builder. Void of Truth to Vessel of Truth.

On and on God went. Until the whole page was resurrected from death to life. Until I was resurrected from death to life. Only God can do that. But I will say this: we have to patiently participate in the process.

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If you’re carrying harmful words with you today. Words spoken to you. Over you. About you. Words that have landed in deeper places than they ever needed to. Then I want to invite you into this practice as well. For God to have space to speak His truth back into your life in the face of all those lies. But before you sit down with your box of crayons, may I tell you three last things I had to learn the hard way:

First, healing work is hard work. It is a long labor of love.

You got to get your knees in the dirt and be willing to excavate in the dust. Even this seemingly simple exercise was deeply painful and exhausting. To recall word after word sent me back to encounter after encounter. To some of the most cutting words and wounds I’d ever received. From people I’d given my trust and respect to for years and years. But once I knew God was guiding me, I knew I needed to keep going. Yet it was no easy task. If you’re going to step into the seeking of healing, just know that you’re signing up for work as well. Hard work. But also, holy work.

Second, you have to want to be healed.

There’s a story in the Scriptures about a man lying down next to a healing pool. He’d been sick from the same disease for 38 years. But when Jesus came to him, Jesus had to ask him, “Do you want to get well?” I can imagine why Jesus would ask that question. Why he would need to. What it would provoke in the man’s well-worn identity over the course of many decades. But ultimately, the answer was “yes”. The man is healed. He gets up. And he walks.

I believe we have to face this question before we can find our healing: do we want to be made well? I can imagine why we would not. And perhaps you can as well. But at the end of the day, we have to desire a true restoration. A resurrection. And if we’re willing, the work can be done.

Third, we can be healed.

God is able. He can do it. The same Spirit that raised Christ Jesus from the dead has the same power to bring light to our darkness as well. In some of the healing stories throughout the Scriptures, Jesus connects his healing work to the faith and belief of the one who was healed. “Your faith has made you well.” We get to participate in this work by our own belief. But the belief is rooted not in our own ability, but in God’s. God is able.

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My prayer is that you would find what you’re looking for. That you would commit to this labor of love, with a deep desire for God’s breath to breathe new life into you. And that your Spirit would be willing even where your flesh is still weak. We can be healed. God is able.

When you’re ready, pick up those kid-size crayons, and with the faith of a child, take the first giant step toward healing. It is possible. God is able. Truth from lies. Light from the darkness. So may the Light come.