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

There has been something stirring in my heart all week, and after a moment I witnessed yesterday, I think I am beginning to understand why.

Say the hard things. Even the things you believe you have already overcome. If it comes to your mind, it may not ne surrendered. Say the things that make your voice tremble. The things you have learned to live with, the memories you have tucked away, and the experiences you have convinced yourself no longer carry the weight they once did. Say the things that are difficult for others to hear, the things that bring shame, guilt, or fear, and even the things you have walked through with God but have rarely allowed another person to witness. Say the things out loud, even if it is only to God. Not because everyone needs to know your story. Not because every circumstance requires an explanation. But because the Holy Spirit places something on our hearts that we would rather keep to ourselves, and our obedience in that moment may open the door to something we did not even realize we still needed.

This week, I have had the privilege of sitting with several people who trusted me enough to share circumstances that were deeply personal. Things that were not easy to say and certainly not easy to hear. And each time, I found myself thanking them for their willingness to speak. I have been thinking about why that matters so much to me. It is not because I have the answers. It is not because I know what to say or because I am somehow equipped to carry what another person has endured. It is because I have come to recognize that there is something incredibly sacred about the moment someone allows another person into a place they have spent so much of their life protecting. A place where they have always felt alone. And yesterday, during our women’s Bible study, I witnessed something that brought this truth into an entirely different perspective.

One of the women in our group began sharing about some very difficult experiences from her past. As she spoke, there was such strength and authority in her voice. She spoke about what she had endured, but even more powerfully, she declared what those experiences would not be allowed to determine about her future. They would not dictate the way she loved her daughter. They would not define the wife she would be. They would not have authority over the woman she was becoming. They would not shape the way she viewed all men. And as I listened, I believed her. I heard a woman who had walked through difficult circumstances with God. I heard someone who had taken what could have destroyed her and refused to allow it to become her identity. I heard victory in her voice, and I celebrated what God had done in her life. I genuinely believed I was witnessing a woman speaking from a place of healing. But then something happened.

As we were closing, another woman in our group asked if she could pray over her. It was a simple invitation, an act of obedience to what she felt placed on her heart. And as one woman began to pray, tears started to flow from the woman that shared her story. In that moment, something settled so deeply within me. Just because we have learned how to speak about what happened to us does not mean every part of us has healed from it. I have not been able to stop thinking about that. We can speak with authority over our past and still have wounds that need tending. We can testify to God’s faithfulness and still have places in our hearts that ache. We can genuinely forgive, move forward, build beautiful lives, become loving parents and spouses, serve others, and walk faithfully with the Lord while still carrying pain from things we have endured. And none of that diminishes what God has already done.

I think sometimes we misunderstand what it means to not just overcome, but to heal. We imagine that victory must look like the absence of pain. That if we have truly surrendered something to God, we should no longer be moved by it. That if we can tell our story without falling apart, surely that means we have healed. But what if overcoming and healing are not always the same thing? What if overcoming means that what happened no longer gets to determine the direction of our lives, while healing is the continued work of allowing God to reach the places within us that those experiences affected? What if we have been so focused on celebrating the fact that we survived something that we have forgotten to make room for the parts of us that are still hurting?

And what if God, in His kindness, uses another person to reach a place within us that we did not even realize was still tender? That is what I witnessed yesterday. I did not see weakness in those tears. I did not see someone whose testimony had suddenly become less powerful. I saw a woman who had already experienced God’s faithfulness being surrounded by others who were willing to stand with her in prayer. And I wondered how often we stop short of that moment because we have convinced ourselves that being able to talk about something means there is nothing left to heal.

Sometimes our testimony tells the story of what God has brought us through, while our tears reveal the places where we still need Him to meet us. Both can be true.

create community

And perhaps that is one of the most beautiful reasons God created us for community. We were never intended to walk through our deepest wounds alone, nor were we meant to measure our healing solely by our ability to function, forgive, or speak confidently about what we have experienced. There are things we can bring before God privately, again and again, and He meets us there. But I believe there are also moments when He invites us to bring those same things into a trusted community, not because our private prayers were insufficient, but because He desires for us to experience His love through the people He has placed around us.

James 5:16 reminds us to confess to one another and pray for one another so that we may be healed. Galatians 6:2 calls us to carry one another’s burdens. I wonder how often we focus on the responsibility of carrying someone else’s burden without recognizing the courage it takes to allow someone to carry ours. We have become very good at saying, “God brought me through it.” And I believe that testimony matters. But perhaps sometimes the Lord is inviting us to go one step further and say, “God brought me through it, but there are still places within me that need His healing.” That is not a contradiction of our faith. It is an expression of our dependence on Him. And I think this is where our minds and our flesh can work so heavily against the truth of God’s Spirit.

We create narratives around what has happened to us. Sometimes those narratives are rooted in shame or guilt. Sometimes they convince us that we have to remain strong because we have already declared victory. Sometimes they persuade us that revisiting something painful means we are moving backward rather than allowing God to take us deeper. And sometimes we do not even recognize the story we have been telling ourselves until someone else is invited into it. We can pray about something for years and still see it through the lens of our own wounds. We can genuinely believe we have surrendered it and yet unknowingly continue protecting parts of ourselves from being seen. Not because God has withheld His light from us, but because pain can cloud our ability to recognize what He is revealing.

For those of us who belong to Christ, the Holy Spirit already dwells within us. The light of Christ is not something another person must bring to us as though God has been absent. But sometimes the Lord uses another believer to help peel away the layers of shame, fear, and self-protection that have made it difficult for us to recognize His truth. Sometimes someone else can see what we have become too accustomed to carrying. Sometimes another person can hear what we have said and recognize that there is still something worth praying over. And sometimes, all it takes is someone being willing to ask, “Can I pray for you?”

I keep returning to that simple question. Because yesterday, one woman was courageous enough to speak, and another was obedient enough to respond. Neither needed to know what God would do with that moment. One simply shared what had been placed on her heart. The other simply offered to pray. And together, they made room for something that might never have happened had either one remained silent. This is what I want us to understand about the power of community. We do not always know what God is preparing to heal when He prompts us to speak.

say the hard thing

Sometimes the difficult thing you feel compelled to say is not meant to remain a conversation between you and your own thoughts. Sometimes God is inviting you to trust Him enough to allow another person into that space. And sometimes the thing He places on your heart is not your own story to share, but a prayer to offer, a question to ask, or a word of encouragement that someone else desperately needs to hear. We do not have to understand why He is prompting us before we respond. We can prayerfully discern, seek His wisdom, and trust that obedience does not require us to know the outcome. I wonder how many moments of encouragement, prayer, and deeper healing we have missed because we were afraid to say what was on our hearts.

How many times have we felt compelled to reach out to someone but convinced ourselves we might be bothering them? How many times have we wanted to share something deeply personal but decided it was better left unsaid? How many times have we felt the Holy Spirit prompting us toward someone, only to allow our own fear or uncertainty to silence us? And how many times have we told ourselves that because we have survived something, we no longer need anyone to walk beside us through it?

I think about how much shame thrives in isolation. How easily our minds can convince us that our wounds are too deep, our experiences too complicated, or our circumstances too uncomfortable for someone else to hear. But there is something powerful about discovering that the very thing you were afraid to speak does not cause people to turn away. Instead, you find yourself surrounded by people willing to pray, to listen, to love, and to stand beside you.

The enemy would have us believe that exposing our wounds makes us vulnerable to condemnation. But in the safety of Christ-centered community, bringing those wounds into the light can make room for compassion, truth, and healing.

And I want to be careful with that invitation. Not everyone is entitled to your story, and not every environment is safe enough to receive it. There is wisdom in discerning whom we trust with the deepest parts of ourselves. Some wounds also need the care of trained professionals alongside the support of our faith community. But please do not mistake the need for discernment as a reason to remain hidden from everyone. If the Lord places something on your heart to share, do not automatically dismiss it because it feels uncomfortable. Bring that prompting before Him. Ask for wisdom. And when the opportunity arises with someone safe, have the courage to say the hard thing.

Even if you have said it before. Even if you believe you have already overcome it. Even if you do not fully understand why you feel compelled to bring it forward. And if God places someone on your heart, do not underestimate the significance of reaching out. You may not have the right words. You may not know their circumstances. You may not even understand why you feel led to pray for them. But perhaps you are being invited to stand beside someone in a moment they did not know they needed.

As I close this week, I am reminded that God’s work in our lives is not limited to the moments when we first surrender something to Him. His faithfulness continues through the layers, through the memories, through the tears, and through the places we thought had already healed. There is no shame in discovering that something still hurts. There is no failure in needing prayer for something you have already overcome. And there is no weakness in allowing someone to witness the parts of your testimony that still bring you to tears.

You can be victorious and still be healing. You can be strong in your faith and still need someone to pray over you. You can know that God has carried you through something and still discover that He has more healing to do within you.

So please, say the hard things. Not for the sake of being heard, but because you may never know what God intends to do through your willingness to be known. And when someone else finds the courage to speak, do not be so quick to assume that their strength means they no longer need support. Celebrate what God has brought them through, but remain sensitive to what He may still be doing. Yesterday reminded me that the most sacred moments in community happen after the testimony has been shared, after the victory has been declared, and after everyone believes the story has reached its conclusion. Sometimes that is precisely when God invites us deeper.

Because overcoming may be part of our testimony, but healing is not always finished when we learn how to tell the story.

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