Trusting God Through the Unexplainable
Job, in all his brokenness, demanded answers from God. And in the end, he didn’t get explanations—he got God.
That was enough. Job said,” I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you.” Job 42:5 (ESV) Brokenness brought Job into deeper intimacy with his Creator. It does the same for us. Struggling doesn’t mean you’ve failed in your faith. It means you’re human. It means you’re being honest. And it means, more often than not, that you’re in the perfect position to be transformed. God honors our struggle. He meets us there. He speaks softly to our wounds and whispers truth while we wait.
He turns our breaking into becoming.
God doesn’t waste pain. Every tear, every question, every long night of the soul—He gathers it all and uses it to write a deeper, more powerful story in us. Struggle is not a detour from God’s presence. It’s a place of divine encounter. Holy ground.
Healing Is a Process, Not a Performance
Healing didn’t come for me like a lightning bolt—it came like gentle rain. Drop by drop. There are fleeting moments of clarity. A friend's embrace fills the air. A verse resonates in the tranquility of the morning. This song arrives at the perfect moment.
One of the most healing stories in Scripture for me is the account of the woman with the issue of blood in Luke 8:43-48. For twelve years, she suffered. Alone. Ashamed. But when she reached out and touched the hem of Jesus’ garment, everything changed.
She wasn’t just healed physically. Jesus turned and saw her. “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.” He called her daughter. He named her Beloved. And He gave her peace, not just health.
Healing isn’t just about fixing what’s broken—it’s about restoring identity.
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3 (NIV)
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” — Psalm 30:5 (NKJV)
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” — James 1:2–3 (NIV)
As we close this chapter on brokenness, we do so with the understanding that pain, though transformative, can leave us weary. Wrestling with God, facing loss, and navigating seasons of uncertainty require not just spiritual strength but emotional and physical endurance as well.
For You, My Friend
If you are in a season of brokenness, I want you to hear my message clearly: You are not alone.
You were not created to carry the burden on your own. There is a time to mourn and a time to dance (Ecclesiastes 3). And occasionally, the most courageous thing we can do is let someone sit beside us in the mourning until we’re ready to dance again.
I’ve gone from that little girl wondering where to sit in the cafeteria to a woman surrounded by community, love, and grace. And if it can happen for me, it can happen for you, too.
Allow yourself to be seen. Allow yourself to be supported. And most of all, allow your brokenness to become a beautiful offering to God.
He’s not done with your story. He’s just getting started. You are a living testimony.
So lift your head, daughter of the King. Let your scars speak. Let your story shine. Through your brokenness, others will find healing.