Do You Want to Be Healed?

One of the most difficult tensions in conversations about healing, mental health, and spiritual growth is learning how to hold two things at the same time: compassion for what’s real and responsibility for what’s within our control.

In a recent conversation, Jamie and Val helped name that tension with clarity and grace. Jamie shared openly from her own journey with depression, while Val—a mental health counselor who specializes in relationships—brought language to the patterns that shape us long before we realize they’re there.

Together, they offered a framework for how we talk about “breakthrough” without minimizing pain or avoiding accountability.

Not Everything Is the Same—and That Matters

One of the most important distinctions they made is this: not every struggle is the same.

Some patterns are rooted in diagnosable mental health conditions. Others grow out of fear, avoidance, laziness, or long-standing habits of thought and behavior. And many of us live somewhere in between—caught between what’s happening to us and what we’re still responsible for.

That’s where frustration can creep in. Jamie named how painful it can feel when pastors speak about anxiety or depression in ways that sound overly simplistic—like, You don’t actually know what you’re talking about. And yet, she also held onto something essential: the importance of still preaching Scripture with integrity.

There’s a maturity required to say, My situation may be unique—and God’s Word is still true. We look to the ideal not because we’ve already arrived, but because it gives us a direction.

We’re Not All the Median—and That’s Okay

As a culture, we often assume we’re supposed to be somewhere in the middle—emotionally, spiritually, relationally. And when we’re not, shame or defensiveness can set in.

But growth often begins with a more honest question:
Lord, is this still serving me in this season?

How free we want to be is directly connected to how honest we’re willing to be. Sometimes we take on labels or coping mechanisms as part of our identity, and any threat to those feels personal. We may dislike the consequences of our brokenness—but still declare certain parts of it off-limits.

It’s like showing up with a broken leg and saying, Don’t set the bone—just give me pain meds.

Healing Requires Partnership

God heals. He intervenes. He touches lives in miraculous ways. And—He also calls us to participate.

Jesus’ words often carry both compassion and command: You’re healed. Now go—and don’t keep living the same way. Many of us believe that if our circumstances would just change, then we could change. But again and again, Scripture shows us that God wants to do a work in us, not just around us.

That’s why the question Jesus asks in John 5 is so confronting:
“Do you want to be healed?”

You can’t make someone change if they aren’t willing. Sometimes it’s not that heaven isn’t open to us—it’s that we can’t yet imagine ourselves living in that kind of freedom.

As C.S. Lewis illustrates in The Great Divorce, the invitation is there, but our attachment to familiar misery can keep us from stepping into joy.

Learned Helplessness and Old Patterns

Val explained that many of our patterns were formed early in life—and they worked at the time. They kept us safe. They helped us stay connected. They protected us from pain.

Real change requires recognizing not just what a pattern is, but what it did for us. Understanding alone, however, isn’t enough. Insight doesn’t automatically lead to transformation.

There’s also a danger of what could be called empathetic enabling—where compassion turns into permission to stay stuck. That kind of empathy can subtly reshape our view of Jesus into someone who only comforts but never heals. And that version of Jesus doesn’t line up with John 10:10—a life of fullness, not just survival.

Small Steps, Specific Obedience

Healing doesn’t mean everything is instantly resolved this side of eternity. There will always be tension between brokenness and the ideal. But Jesus’ command in John 5 wasn’t abstract—it was practical: Get up. Pick up your mat. Walk.

Movement matters.

Taking steps with the Lord might look like starting counseling for the first time. It might mean changing daily rhythms, setting boundaries, or telling the truth about something we’ve been numbing.

When we’re willing to take one small, specific step of obedience at a time, something surprising happens: we look back and realize just how far the Lord has brought us.

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