Because God doesn’t wait for perfection before He moves.
I thought healing would be neat, straightforward, and private, just me, my therapist, and a few quiet sessions.
Man, was I wrong.
Healing has been messy. Loud. Inconsistent.
It had me in a chokehold so tight I started to believe staying broken, stuck in survival, unsure of who I was or who I wanted to be, felt easier, safer, more manageable than this.
I wanted the pain to end. So how did I end up unearthing even more pain?
Sitting in overwhelming emotions I had buried for decades?
Being forced to feel?
It was uncomfortable.
Painfully uncomfortable.
Some days, I love my therapist. Other days, I swear she’s the devil’s spawn disguised as an angel of light.
Yes, there was a season where I had a deep love-hate relationship with therapy.
And still… I kept showing up.
Because here’s what I’ve learned:
Still healing doesn’t mean not usable.
Still healing doesn’t mean not sacred.
Still healing doesn’t mean not called.
There was a time I believed I had to finish healing before I could speak.
Before I could help others.
Before I could lead.
But I found myself helping from my own need, pouring into others what I desperately needed myself.
And it worked… until imposter syndrome crept in and whispered that old lie:
“Who are you to help anyone when you’re still broken?”
Only then did I begin understanding that belief was born in shame and wrapped in religion. It was rooted in the lie that says,
"God only uses you when you're whole."
But God?
God uses the wounded.
The woman bleeding.
The man limping.
The child crying out in silence.
Truth is, I’m still healing.
From violations I never asked for.
From the silence that buried me.
From the belief that my body didn’t belong to me.
From betrayal. Rejection. Neglect. Abandonment.
From the wounds I inherited, and the ones I endured.
But every time I write…
Every time I speak truth…
Every time I help another survivor understand that what was done was not their fault…
Every time I witness a child finally say what they’ve been desperate to speak out loud…
Every time I pray with tears in my throat and fear in my belly…
God moves anyway.
If you’re still healing, this is for you:
You are not behind.
You are not disqualified.
You are not a fraud.
You are a living testimony in motion.
You are proof that sacred things grow in hard places.
Words to Steady Your Soul:
2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV)
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
Psalm 147:3
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
Isaiah 61:3
“To give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness…”
Write It Out: Get Honest with Yourself
- Where have I believed I must be fully healed before I’m worthy, usable, or called?
- Who taught me that?
- What truth can I speak over myself instead?
From My Heart to Yours:
You may still cry.
Still tremble.
Still feel the sting of what was done.
Still wonder if you, yes, you, are usable.
Let me remind you:
"God does not wait for perfection."
He simply waits for permission.
Say yes, even with your limp.
Say yes, even with your scars.
You are still healing.
And you are still divine.
Before You Go:
If this spoke to you, leave a comment or share it with someone who feels like their healing is taking too long.
This isn’t just my dispatch, it’s ours.
With fierce faith,
Larissa
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