The Beauty of Nonlinear Healing

BY HEiDI PRAHL

Lover of Jesus, my family, really good coffee, and all things Chicago. I’m a living, breathing paradox.

One of the best things I left behind when I walked away from the church was the “one size fits all” mentality. I had come to believe that despite very different stories, the church’s ultimate goal was for everyone’s faith to look alike. Nowhere was this more prevalent than in the area of healing. I realize this is a bold statement and isn’t always true, but this is my story.

As I ventured into the wilderness of figuring out my faith outside the church walls, I came to realize I had so much more freedom than I’d ever known. Even in the especially delicate area of healing.

During my church years, I’ve faced plenty of adversity. Many around me faced adversity. Despite the fact that our trials were very different, the church taught a “one size fits all” solution. To veer any other direction was cautioned…it could lead to stumbling. You’re more easily led astray during times of adversity. Follow the formula, be quick to declare victory over your grief or trials, or beware.

I did as I was told. I followed along as best as I could, I prayed, I asked for healing. I asked God to mend my heart or my body or my mind. I said that I forgave people who hurt me. I declared that God is still good, even through tears. I shook my head in agreement when people told me to trust the plan God has for me—Jeremiah 29:11 and all that . . .

I knew the words to say, I nodded along when they were spoken over me, and in turn, I repeated these words to hurting friends when they needed me. The problem: it was rarely true. I often felt forced to declare that I trusted God and His plan in my pain even when I wasn’t quite yet there. I felt coerced into saying I forgave people even when I hadn’t yet. I *wanted* to believe and forgive, but those things take time. Healing takes time. But in the church, acknowledging that you need time is frowned upon. There’s a special kind of pressure to heal quickly and quietly.

In retrospect, it feels more like the church doing PR work for God than genuine interest in mending hearts. So it took me a long time away from the church to really feel safe enough to admit:

Healing takes time.

A fully healed heart isn’t something you can force by sharing platitudes or deciding to fake it ‘til you make it. Heart healing is rarely a one-time thing. So often we think we are over our grief and doing fine, only to find ourselves blindsided, our grief returning when we least expect it. In my church days, this felt like failure. I’m supposed to be over this. I said I was, but here we are again.

Once I left the church, I committed to reading from my Bible six days a week. I started seeing things in a new light, one of them a realization that when Jesus healed people, he used a variety of methods. Sometimes He healed them with His touch, sometimes they simply touched Him, sometimes he used clay or even His own spit. Sometimes He put His hands directly on the part that hurt, and sometimes He wasn’t even present.

In the Old Testament, God used a variety of ways to heal people, too. Sometimes He spoke, other times He used the hands of a prophet. And, of course, sometimes people were healed through prayer alone.

Simply grasping this truth was a giant sigh of relief. Healing was individual. Not one size fits all. Jesus healed people in very personal ways and never encouraged anyone to pretend they were healed before they were.

Between personal experience and shared stories, there was a pattern emerging of the church discouraging seeking help found outside the church, rushing people to declare victory over grief or betrayal before they were ready as if a grieving Christian was somehow a bad witness.

This type of mentality often led to well-meaning people (myself included) saying things like “This isn’t a surprise to God. He can work all of this together for your good. You need to forgive; your heart may be broken, but you can’t trust your heart, it’s deceitful,” to already hurting people instead of stepping into their grief with them.

I found myself wondering if those who were quick to declare those things in their darkest hours truly meant it. I never wanted to walk away from God, but if I’m honest, I often wondered if things were really “for my good” or if they were some sort of retribution for my screw-ups.

Everything changed the day I shared my story with a woman I barely knew and said “I just wish this wasn’t true. I wish this hadn’t happened.” She responded, “that’s fair. That’s normal.” She told me healing would come in time. No pressure. No platitudes. Just reassurance to take my time and trust that healing would come. She didn’t force me to find the good before I was ready or say I was fine when I wasn’t. I never looked back.

Since those days, I’ve gone on to find healing in a variety of places: prayer, meditation, EMDR therapy, medication, yoga, writing, and sauna sessions, to name a few. I’ve learned that healing is not a linear journey—past hurts will surface from time to time. But hopefully, we will be in a little better spot to handle them each time they do.

I now realize that Christ died to set us free, free to seek out the help we need. It’s not letting God down, it’s honoring my Maker, recognizing that He made me according to His divine design—beautifully, wonderfully, unique.

Take care of yourself. Be open to wherever God is leading you to find restoration. Our healing journeys will look different, and that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.