i thought i was fine — until i ended up at a televised altar call sobbing my eyes out...
yes, that was me sobbing on tv. i got the DMs. now here’s the whole story.
i never thought of myself as someone who needed healing. not because life was perfect, but because nothing ever felt visibly wrong.
healing, in my mind, was always for someone else — especially my sister, who was born deaf. i’ve prayed my whole life for her miracle— to be able to hear and speak. my heart has been tuned to believe for her healing.
i grew up as a spirit-filled believer in the word of faith movement—
i’ve seen the miraculous happen.
growing up, we went to healing meetings and tent revivals all the time — weeklong church services that started in the morning and didn’t end until sometime after midnight.
and, in those services, the miraculous is unleashed.
i’ve seen people who were paralyzed, walk again.
i’ve seen people with chronic pain, instantly healed.
i’ve seen people with deformed or shorten legs, lengthened and straighten.
when it comes to divine and super natural healing—i believe it. i’ve witnessed it.
so, maybe, my family and childhood experiences shaped my view of healing—when i prayed for healing, it was always for something physical.
when depression came,
i didn’t ask for healing — i told myself to be joyful.
when disappointment came,
i didn’t ask for healing — i told myself to shift my mindset.
when life quietly crumbled around me,
i didn’t ask for healing — i told myself to keep moving.
of course, i knew God wanted me to be “well”—
but, if i’m being transparent, it never crossed my mind to pray for healing.
maybe it was pride,
maybe it was minimizing what i was going through,
maybe it was a lack of alignment.
whatever it was — like i told a friend on the phone today — “i’ve never been the one to raise my hand for healing.”
that was always for someone else.
until last summer.
it was supposed to be just another year at the convention—until everything caught up with me.
my family has gone to the kenneth copeland’s southwest believers convention every year for the past decade. my parents met at one of kenneth copeland’s conventions back in the 80s and it’s always been something that our family has enjoyed going to together.
that summer, i was drowning — in depression, in grief, in pain that felt too loud to even name.
keith moore began preaching, and mid-sermon, it was like heaven zeroed in on me.
as he spoke, i kept biting the side of my cheek, trying to hold back the tears— everything he was saying, was everything i needed to hear.
at the end, he gave an altar call:
for those battling grief. not just depression. not just general sadness. grief.
my mom nudged me and my sisters. this altar call was for us, all of us. we were all still battling the grief of losing my dad. we held hands and walked to the front.
as keith moore walked down the line of people at the altar, i braced myself. trying to hold back the tears. when he got to me and laid his hands on me, there was no holding back— i was bawling — shoulders shaking, tears running, heart exposed.
when i got back to my seat, i heard the Holy Spirit whisper:
“reach out your hands and receive joy.”
i didn’t want to.
i wanted to stay hidden. unseen. small.
but something in me knew:
if i don’t reach, i won’t receive.
so i did.
hands up, tears still falling, i reached.
and that was the moment it shifted.
it wasn’t instant transformation.
but the grief began to lift.
and now — a year later — by the grace of God, i’m in a completely different place mentally and spiritually.
even after all that, healing still wasn’t on my radar.
until the dreams started.
beneath the surface, something holy was happening.
one after another, night after night, the idea of healing kept showing up.
sometimes subtle, sometimes vivid — but always unmistakable.
at first, i thought—
“okay, cool. God wants to purify me and prepare me for what’s ahead.”
but as i’ve peeled back the layers,
i’ve realized—
oh. God wants to do deep, inner healing.
i hear the whisper again:
“there’s still residue.”
“there’s more to heal.”
“there are still blocked channels I want to clear so you can create freely.”
the more i sit with God—and with the idea of healing, of being emptied and filled, of being purified through alignment—the more i realize: oh gosh, i do need healing
in fact, i need healing from alot—
healing from—
friends who left without goodbye
feeling abandoned by people i consistently showed up for
the silence of people who never once checked in after my dad went to heaven
church leaders who used my family’s grief as gossip at their dinner tables
bitterness that made me walk out of rooms when certain leaders spoke
the belief that i wasn’t chosen
the sting of feeling passed over
believing my best was never good enough
disappointment and unmet expectations
holding my timelines as an idol
comparison — and the way i see myself
old identities and heavy mindsets i still wear like armor
the fear that i’m behind and it’s too late for me to experience some of God’s promises
the more i sit with God and unpack everything He’s been showing me —
about transition, identity, preparation, purification, and influence —
the more i realize:
there are still blocked channels.
areas of my heart, my spirit, and even my creativity
where i’ve kept the door halfway closed.
not intentionally.
not rebelliously.
just… unknowingly.
but if i want to create what i’m truly called to create —
if i want my work to be a dwelling place for God —
i can’t create from broken filters, fractured trust, or unhealed grief.
i have to be whole.
you can't step into your calling without healing
and now i see it clearly:
healing is an integral part of transition and stepping into your calling.
it’s not a luxury.
it’s not a side-quest.
it’s essential.
because we were never meant to create from brokenness.
we were created to create from wholeness.
think about it:
we were created in the image of God. — (Genesis 1:27)
Jesus came to give us life, and life more abundantly. — (John 10:10)
you can’t separate those two truths.
if we were made in God’s image —
and God creates from a place of wholeness —
then we were always meant to create from wholeness, too.
our work was always meant to reflect His nature —
His goodness.
His glory.
our work was meant to be a dwelling place for Him.
but if our minds, spirits, and bodies are filled with unhealed wounds,
there’s no room left.
healing is how we make room.
because when we’re broken, we’re limited.
think about it physically —
if your hand is broken, you can still move, but only so much.
your range is restricted. your strength is compromised.
and it’s the same spiritually and emotionally.
if there’s unhealed brokenness inside of us, we might still create,
but it will be from a place of limitation.
the state of the vessel always impacts what is poured through it.
when we create from brokenness — especially unhealed, unnamed, or guarded brokenness —we often create from striving, from survival, or from self-protection.
and yes, the work might still look beautiful on the outside.
yes, it might even resonate.
but there’s a difference between something that sounds good
and something that becomes a dwelling place for God.
because when we create from our wounds instead of our healing,
what flows through us is often:
ego dressed up as excellence
trauma dressed up as ambition
fear disguised as control
bitterness masked as boldness
perfectionism compensating for pain
and while God can still use what we build in brokenness (He’s kind like that),
there’s a limit to how deeply His presence can dwell in something built on fractured ground.
but when we’re whole —
we’re aligned.
and when we’re aligned —
He can enter what we create and dwell there.
that’s the goal.
not just to create for Him, but to create something He can inhabit.
the most beautiful example of this is the tabernacle.
when God gave Moses the instructions to build it, it wasn’t random.
He gave exact measurements, specific materials, precise colors and symbols — not because He’s controlling, but because He was creating a dwelling place for His presence.
this wasn’t just decoration. it was preparation.
and then, God chose someone to carry it out:
Bezalel.
“See, I have called by name Bezalel... and I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with wisdom, with understanding, with knowledge, and with all kinds of craftsmanship.”
— Exodus 31:2–3
what stands out to me here isn’t just that Bezalel was skilled.
it’s that he was called by name, filled with the Spirit, and entrusted to build the place where God would dwell.
he was available.
he was willing.
and he was chosen.
and this is where it ties back to healing.
Bezalel wasn’t just a gifted artisan.
he was a conduit — a vessel through whom God would manifest glory.
and that’s what we’re called to be too.
but if we’re holding bitterness, disappointment, identity wounds, spiritual exhaustion, or unhealed grief…
we become blocked vessels.
we might still build, but what we build won’t have the capacity to carry what God intends.
Bezalel didn’t build a tabernacle out of personal ambition.
he didn’t build out of trauma, ego, or fear of being passed over.
he built with purity, clarity, and alignment — because he had been filled with the Spirit of God. and that is the call for us, too.
we are not just makers — we are makers of holy things.
and holy things cannot be built on fractured ground.
if we want to create something God can dwell in,
if we want our work to carry weight and not just beauty,
we have to let God fill us first.
heal us.
align us.
because the Spirit of God can only dwell in what’s been made ready.
what if healing goes deeper than what you can see?
maybe you’re like me…
maybe your whole life, you thought healing was just about the physical.
about sickness, injury, or pain you could see.
but i want to remind you —
God cares about the innermost parts of you just as much as He cares about your physical body.
He’s seen everything you’ve been through.
every heartbreak. every betrayal. every disappointment.
and He doesn’t want to leave you walking and working with hidden wounds.
He wants to heal you.
He wants to make you whole.
He’s too good to leave you broken.
and His mission has always been to restore wholeness.
“I came that they may have life, and have it more abundantly.” — John 10:10
that’s not just a beautiful verse we frame on our walls —
that’s the mission.
it’s why He died.
so you wouldn’t have to walk around bleeding internally while pretending everything’s fine.
healing isn’t just about what hurts — it’s about what’s hidden.
God cares about the deep layers.
the emotional. the mental. the spiritual. the unseen.
what’s buried under survival.
what’s been stuffed down and spiritualized.
what’s quietly holding you back from living abundantly.
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3
in the Hebrew, the word wounds isn’t limited to physical injury.
it carries emotional and spiritual weight — chaburah —
meaning bruises, trauma, internal damage.
God isn't just after external healing.
He’s after your inner wholeness.
how beautiful is that?
healing begins when you reach
but here’s the thing — and what i learned last summer:
healing and wholeness require your willingness and participation.
just like i had to walk up to the altar,
i had to acknowledge that something inside me was broken.
i had to admit i needed deep, inner healing.
and just like the Holy Spirit told me to reach toward heaven and receive joy —
i had to move.
i had to take action.
i had to be willing.
in John 5:6, Jesus asks a man who had been an invalid for 38 years:
“do you want to be well?”
what an odd question, right?
especially for someone who so clearly needed healing.
Jesus didn’t ask, “what happened?”
or “how long have you been like this?”
He didn’t ask for backstory.
He got straight to the heart.
because Jesus doesn’t ask surface-level questions.
He asks questions that reveal.
we have to want it.
we have to want healing.
we have to want wholeness.
we have to want it more than the badge of being the victim.
more than the comfort of our old narrative.
more than the pity party we’ve hosted for ourselves.
more than the control we feel in staying stuck.
we have to want it. period.
because God will never force freedom on you.
He’ll never force healing.
He’ll never force wholeness.
He invites.
He prompts.
He waits.
but you have to be willing to receive.
so today —
here’s my question to you:
do you want to be well?
maybe it’s not your body that needs healing —
maybe it’s your belief system.
maybe it’s your self-worth.
maybe it’s how you see yourself in the mirror.
maybe it’s the voice that says “you’re not enough,” “you’re too much,” or “you’re too late.”
maybe it’s the way you shrink when God calls you forward.
maybe you need healing from the wound of being passed over.
from the fear that if you try again, it’ll fall apart again.
from the moment something didn’t work, and you quietly stopped hoping.
from the ache of unanswered prayers you’re too scared to pray again.
from the shame of who you used to be — or who you still feel like you are.
maybe it’s the grief you never gave yourself space to process.
the disappointment that turned into a wall.
the bitterness you buried under a polished exterior.
the church leader who hurt you.
the silence that came when you needed presence.
the friend who disappeared.
the relationship that left you questioning your value.
maybe it’s the jealousy you don’t talk about —
because everyone else seems to be getting what you’ve been waiting for.
maybe it’s the exhaustion of always being the strong one.
maybe it’s the fear that if you slow down, everything will fall apart.
maybe it’s the guilt you carry for things you’ve already been forgiven for.
maybe it’s the loneliness no one sees — because you smile too well.
maybe it’s the pressure to prove yourself.
to perform.
to be perfect.
to never need help.
maybe it’s the belief that God is good to everyone else…
but you’re the exception.
whatever it is —the grief, the guilt, the silence, the survival, the stuckness —
He wants to heal it.
not just touch it. not just soothe it.
heal it.
restore it.
redeem it.
rewrite it.
because you were never meant to live with brokenness.
Jesus already paid the price — not just for your salvation,
but for your complete and total healing —
including the unseen things,
the silent wounds,
the pain you’ve never put into words.
you were never meant to create from a cracked foundation.
God wants to move in and through you.
He wants to co-labor with you.
He wants to use you to do something great on the earth.
but first and foremost —
He wants to heal you.
He wants to make you whole.
He wants to restore every fractured part.
because He’s more interested in the condition of the vessel
than the speed of the assignment.
He wants you to live an abundant life —
so that when you create,
you’re not scraping from survival or striving for approval —
you’re building from overflow.
so that what flows through you isn’t performance —
but presence.
so that He can inhabit your work.
a final peptalk™
if this has been a transitional season —
a wilderness season, a dry season, a foggy season —
if old wounds have started to resurface,
if buried grief is rising without warning,
if the things you thought you had already healed feel loud again —
this is not regression.
it’s invitation.
an invitation to slow down.
to look inward.
to let God reach places you’ve ignored or avoided.
to let Him whisper into what still aches.
don’t run.
don’t numb it.
don’t hide from it.
this is not the season to perform.
this is the season to be healed.
this is the season to become whole.
this is the season to let God clear out the residue
so He can flow freely through you.
you are not behind.
you are not disqualified.
you are not too late.
you are being made ready.
so don’t rush past this.
don’t minimize it.
don’t try to package it pretty.
receive it.
God is not just restoring what was broken —
He’s building something stronger.
and He’s not just healing you for you —
He’s healing you so the world can experience what He placed inside you.
so take a breath.
open your hands.
and let Him finish what He started.
this is holy ground.
and He’s not done with you yet.
xx lindsey eryn
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