Every day, I witness something that both breaks my heart and fills me with hope: the profound pain that so many people carry, often without even realizing it. This hidden suffering doesn’t just stay buried. It shapes everything. How we work, who we love, what we buy, what we consume, and how we spend our time. Modern life offers endless distractions from this pain, but these quick fixes only deepen the wound.
What strikes me most is how often the source traces back to childhood. Somewhere in those formative years, something went wrong. A loss, a betrayal, a moment when a young heart learned it wasn’t safe to be vulnerable. The child’s conclusion? “I’m not good enough.” That belief becomes a relentless companion, driving us to seek validation and relief in all the wrong places.
We chase achievements, relationships, substances, shopping, social media, anything that might fill the void or numb the ache. But it’s like trying to outrun your own shadow. A mentor once told me, “The surest way to get to hell is to run away from hell.” The more we flee from our pain, the more power we give it over our lives.
Here’s something fascinating: the word “nostalgia” comes from Greek, meaning “the pain from an old wound.” When we understand this, everything clicks into place. Our identity isn’t just who we think we are today—it’s how we’ve learned to live with the memories, images, and experiences from our past.
Instead of asking “Why do I have this habit?” or “Why can’t I stop this pattern?”, the better question becomes: “What pain am I trying to escape?” This shift in perspective changes everything.
The Counterintuitive Path to Freedom
The path to healing requires something that feels impossible: stopping the run. Instead of escaping your pain, you must learn to be with it. This doesn’t mean wallowing or staying stuck. It means developing the courage to face what you’ve been avoiding.
But here’s the crucial part: you can’t do this alone. Pain examined in isolation often becomes overwhelming. You need what I call “compassionate witness,” someone who can hold space for your truth without judgment, without trying to fix you, without turning away from your reality.
In my own journey, I discovered that the most faithful compassionate witness isn’t found in any human relationship, though people can reflect this love beautifully. It’s found in the Holy Spirit, the One who knows every wound, every tear, every moment of shame, and still whispers, “You are beloved.” As Paul writes, “That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10). Our pain doesn’t disqualify us from God’s love. It becomes the very place where His strength is most evident.
The Power of True Empathy
This is where empathy becomes transformative, not just nice-to-have. When someone can truly see through your eyes, feel what you feel, and still remain present with you, magic happens. In that moment of genuine understanding, you stop needing to run. You feel seen, validated, and suddenly capable of change.
That compassionate presence doesn’t minimize your pain or rush you past it. Instead, it creates a safe container where you can finally examine the wound that’s been driving your life from the shadows. The Holy Spirit offers us this perfect empathy. He intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words, understanding our pain before we can even articulate it.
What’s remarkable is how God uses our very wounds as instruments of healing for others. Scripture tells us that “God… reconciles us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Corinthians 5:18). The pain you’ve walked through becomes the bridge you build for someone else’s healing journey.
Your Pain Has a Purpose
Whether your nostalgia whispers softly or screams loudly, whether your sense of “not being good enough” feels mild or crushing, know this: your pain is not permanent, and it’s not pointless. Every difficult emotion you carry contains information about what you need to heal and who you’re meant to become.
This is perhaps one of the most counterintuitive truths of faith: our struggles aren’t obstacles to God’s plan. They’re often the very means by which He shapes us. Paul understood this deeply: “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us” (Romans 5:3-5).
James expands on this profound truth: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” (James 1:2-4).
It’s worth repeating, “Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete.” This is perhaps the hardest instruction we’ll ever receive, because everything in us wants to escape pain quickly. We want the quick solution and the easy fix. We want the pill or the seminar or the book that’s going to change everything without involving pain. We want the product that brings maturity without the painful process. But that isn’t going to happen!
Pain is the cost of growth. The old cliché is true: no pain, no gain. The very thing that’s discouraging you right now is the very thing God is using to develop you right now.
It’s possible to grow during times of bright, fair weather, but you put down deeper roots during the dark days of life. There will be growth in the painful parts of life that you will not gain any other way. The process will not make you perfect, but it will move you toward being more like Christ. And if you’ll trust God to keep you and walk with you in your pain, He will develop endurance in you and give you His peace and rest.
Your pain isn’t punishment. It’s preparation. When you let God into your problems instead of pushing Him out, you develop the kind of endurance that makes you ready for anything, strong in character, full and complete.
The journey isn’t about eliminating your past or pretending your wounds don’t exist. It’s about learning to dance with your history instead of being controlled by it. It’s about allowing the Holy Spirit to transform the story of your pain into the foundation of your strength and your ministry to others.
Walking the Path Together
Healing isn’t a solo journey, and it’s not a destination you arrive at once and for all. It’s an ongoing relationship with yourself and with God that deepens over time. Like the classic Hero’s Journey, your path will take you through stages of departure from familiar patterns, trials that test and transform you, and eventual return with wisdom to help others.
The Holy Spirit serves as your divine helper on this journey, not removing the challenges, but walking alongside you through them. Some days you’ll feel strong and clear, sensing His presence powerfully. Other days, the old wounds will ache, and you’ll need the Holy Spirit to remind you that His grace is sufficient, that His power is made perfect in weakness.
This journey transforms you into what counselors call “the wounded healer,” someone whose scars become sources of strength for others. Your pain, once healed, becomes your ministry. The very wounds that once isolated you become the bridge that connects you to others who are hurting.
If you recognize yourself in these words, if you feel the pull of old pain or the exhaustion of constant running, please know that change is possible. The Holy Spirit stands ready to be your compassionate witness, to sit with you in your pain without condemnation, and to gently guide you toward healing.
Your past doesn’t have to dictate your future, but it will continue to influence it until you learn to work with the Holy Spirit to redeem it. The person you’re meant to become isn’t waiting on the other side of perfection. They’re waiting on the other side of surrender. Surrender to God’s love for your whole story, wounds and all. That’s where real transformation begins, and where your pain becomes your ministry.
MindWolves 