The Breaking Was The Blessing

I don’t believe anything in this life arrives accidentally at our feet—

not the trials,
not the testing,
not even the tears.

Every wound carries revelation.
Every delay carries instruction.
Every breaking carries the potential for restoration.

Nothing is wasted in the hands of God.

This morning, the Holy Spirit ushered

me into a deeper awakening—
one that quietly unfolded somewhere

between a dream I couldn’t shake
and a prayer God had already answered.

Something broke in me.
Something lifted off me.
Something shifted around me.

And I realized: how many times have

we prayed the same prayers,

begging God for clarity,
while ignoring the very answers

that disturb our comfort?

I’m guilty!

Sometimes we aren’t deaf—
we’re resistant.

Because truly hearing God requires surrender.
It requires accountability.
It requires us to confront the

versions of ourselves
that learned how to survive
but never learned how to heal.

And survival has a way of becoming an identity
if you stay in the valley too long.

This afternoon,

I received a heartbreaking revelation—
one that removed scales from my eyes.

I realized I had become a casualty of wars
I never fully healed from,
battles I kept reliving
because pain had become familiar territory.

I mourned separation.
I grieved loss.
I carried resentment like armor,
thinking it protected me
when it was really poisoning me slowly.

And deep down,
I already knew.

Because God had been exposing

the cracks all along—
the foundational fallacies,
the patterns,
the cycles,
the places where I kept choosing

movement over obedience.

I leaped without instruction,
then resented the injuries that followed.

Instead of waiting in the Upper Room,
instead of allowing God to complete the work,
I kept trying to rescue myself

with my own strength.

But self-preservation can never replace surrender.

There is no shortcut to healing.
No fast-track to wholeness.
No escape route around refinement.

Sometimes God will allow you to

sit in the weight of a thing
until every false version of you dies there.

Sometimes the discomfort is the deliverance.

Sometimes the breaking is the blessing.

And sometimes freedom arrives

disguised as heartbreak.

Today, I felt chains fall that I didn’t even realize I was still carrying.

I released grief.
I released striving.
I released the need to understand everything before trusting God with it.

And for the first time in a long time,
I didn’t just ask God to remove the storm—

I allowed Him to reveal who I became inside of it.

God,
thank You for a level of freedom
I never saw coming.

Thank You for loving me enough
to confront me,
correct me,
and still call me chosen.

The weight broke today.

And I can finally feel my soul breathing again.

Comments

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