Healing Is Not Linear—And That’s Okay

A Reflection for the Wounded and the Walking

There are moments in life when the journey of healing feels steady—like sunrise after a long night. You take a deep breath, and hope rises with it.

But then come the other days.The days that feel like you’re slipping backward.The tears you didn’t expect.

The triggers you thought you’d overcome.

The numbness that suddenly returns like a shadow.

And in the quiet, a question forms in your heart:“Shouldn’t I be farther along by now?”

Beloved soul, hear this gently—like a whisper of grace tucked into the ache:

Healing is not linear—and that’s okay.

God Is Not in a Hurry With Your Heart

The world may move fast, but your Creator does not rush holy things.

He is not tracking your pace to determine your worth.

He is not keeping score—He is keeping you.

“A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out.”—Isaiah 42:3

You are not too slow.

You are not too weak.

You are not too broken.

You are deeply, relentlessly loved by a Father who knows exactly how long it takes to heal a wounded heart—and who will never leave your side while you heal.

You Are Seen—Even in the Hidden Places

There is One who sees what others don’t.El Roi,

the God who saw Hagar in the wilderness—alone, rejected, grieving—sees you, too.

“You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.”—Genesis 16:13

He sees the nights you cried alone and told no one.

The mornings you got up when it felt impossible.

The times you offered kindness while quietly falling apart.

You may feel forgotten in your pain, but you are intimately known, moment by moment, by the One who wrote your story and catches every tear (Psalm 56:8).

God’s healing doesn’t follow timelines.

It doesn’t unfold on a schedule.

It moves like wind, like water, like a garden growing underground before it ever blooms.

“He has made everything beautiful in its time.”—Ecclesiastes 3:11

There are seasons of blossoming, and seasons of stillness.

There are times of pruning.

Times of waiting.

And yes, times when you’ll bloom again—even after the frost.

Sometimes healing looks like joy.

Sometimes it looks like breathing through the next hour.

Sometimes it looks like weeping—and still waking up tomorrow.

All of it matters.

All of it is seen.

All of it is holy.

Your Strength Is Real—Even When It’s Quiet

You may not feel strong.

But look at you—you’re still here.

That is strength.

That is courage.

That is the quiet, sacred power of someone choosing to keep going.

“The Lord is my strength and my song; He has become my salvation.”—Exodus 15:2

It was strength when you asked for help.

It was strength when you forgave.

It was strength when you chose rest over running.

It is strength every time you show up—soft, scared, scarred, and still willing.

God often sends healing through the hands and hearts of others:

a gentle counselor, a wise friend, a prayer spoken when you had no words.

It is a holy thing to receive love when you're fragile.

Don’t be afraid to lean in.

“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Messiah.”—Galatians 6:2

You were never meant to carry this alone.

Let the love of others become part of the grace that holds you.

His Grace Covers Every Step

Whether you are leaping forward or barely crawling today—His grace is there.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”—2 Corinthians 12:9

God’s grace is not for some future, put-together version of you. It is for you now.

Here in this moment.

And that grace?

It’s not fragile.

It will not withdraw when you stumble.

It will not expire when you feel stuck.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”—Psalm 34:18

His grace is faithful, warm, and steady—just like He is.

You Are Still Being Made Whole

You are not behind.

You are not failing.

You are on the sacred path of healing, being led by a Shepherd who knows your every wound—and calls you beloved still.

So breathe.

Rest.

Cry.

Rejoice.

Start over.

Keep going.

You are being remade, gently and gloriously, by the same hands that shaped the stars.

“He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Messiah Yeshua.”—Philippians 1:6

There is no shame in how long it takes.

There is only grace. And hope.

And a God who will never let go of you.

That?

That is holy ground.