Beautifully Broken: A 20 Day Journey of Healing From the Unthinkable

Scripture: 2 Corinthians 4:18

It’s been a journey. Hasn’t it? The many hills and valleys you’ve had to overcome—it has not been as easy as you had hoped. 

Things were lost, weren’t they? 

Precious, important things. 

I’m sorry for the unthinkable in your life. I’m so sorry that you’ve had to go through what you’ve gone through. 

And I honour what it took for you to know what you know now. 

The Bible holds countless promises and unending words of comfort for those of us who have been through the heartache of loss. For those of us who find ourselves spinning in the aftermath of a life undone. Of trauma and tragedy. 

Every once in a while, I take a long look at my scars—the ones seen and the ones unseen—the leftover bits and pieces from that season that seemed to take so much more than it gave. 

And do you know what I see? 

Now—on this side of things—I see evidence of a rescue. 

I see beautiful reminders of when God carried me. 

I see redemption. 

I see so much grace. Mercy. 

I’m not sure where you are in your journey through the unthinkable, but I know the One Who travels with you. I know His heart, and I know He has not once left you alone in the heartache. 

Not for one second has He taken His eyes off of you. 

So, I’m honouring your journey today. I’m standing with you as you review the landscape of struggle. As you miss what has been taken, and as you look ahead to what God is unfolding for you. 

And I’m praying that with every day forward, you will be reminded of God’s faithfulness. 

He stands in victory. He is working out a powerful redemption story behind the scenes. 

Together, as we work our way through these next few weeks, may you cling to His Words and His heart for you. And may you keep a keen eye out for His hands in your life. He has not left you alone in this. 

Father, bless the woman reading these words today. Lord, You know her. You know exactly what she’s been through and what she needs. Comfort her, Father. Help her to feel You today. May Your powerful, life-giving promises jump off the pages of Your Word and land deep in her heart. Surround her with people who love You and can join her on her healing journey. Thank You for staying so close and for leading us through these painful seasons. We trust You, Lord. In the Mighty Name of Jesus, Amen.

Scripture: Psalms 34:18

If you’ve been on your face in sorrow, you know. If you’ve held your breath in the chaos or stood, blown open in the wreckage. You know. If the covenant is broken. If the lies have been spewed. If the story spun against you has taken on a life of its own. If you’ve begged for answers that would never come. Or help. Or relief. You definitely know. And I am so sorry that you know of such things. It was never supposed to be this way. I know, too—you and I have a shared knowing. And maybe you’ve already found it, as I have…No matter what. He is still God. Even when everything else isn’t what you thought it was. Even when the lies are loud, and the chaos seems unending. He is still God, and He is still in control. He is still fighting battles behind the scenes, defending you in realms we only read about. And—this is important—He has stepped in even closer. When others walk away—God runs to us. When the narrative spun against us is too much to hold—He carries truth. When it all comes undone—He is right there holding what matters. First, He is with us.And then, He saves. First, He comes close, and then He saves. He will work this out. He is close to the brokenhearted. And He saves those who are crushed in spirit. Don’t forget Who He is today. You’re in very good hands.

Scripture: Isaiah 26:3

When the free will of another lands hard on us, it takes more than a lot to stand back up. The sin of another has not prompted you into sin. You’ve decided on the high road. You’ve stayed the course. You’ve stood back up. It’s one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. When the revenge fantasies rage. When the reminders of the injustice flood in. When you know in your heart, it’s not okay. You kept your heart locked on the Judge Himself. You decided to let Him sort it out. And He will. He does. We can take ourselves off the case. We can go about the business of healing. Of trusting. Of standing back up and living in the freedom offered us. I just want you to know I get it, and I’m proud of you for doing the hard, right thing. 

Scriptures: Hebrews 13:6, Philippians 4:12-13

God gets the glory in our story. If you’re in the middle of a wild comeback, don’t forget Him. Cling tight. Remember Who He is. If you’re still face down in it, waiting for His healing—hold on. His timing is perfect. He. Will. Rescue you. And if you’re fully on the other side, where the air is clearer and the history of things smoulders in the background—hands way up. He did this. All glory to Him. May we always remember Who He is and what He has done. What, oh what would we do without Him? 

Scripture: Romans 5:8

Many years of my life have been spent far from God. 

Dodging Him. Running full throttle in the other direction. I am not proud of this. And if I could go back and chat with my younger self, I’d definitely have words with her. 

But while I ran and tripped—and ran and tripped—God hovered. 

He pursued. He loved. 

And, within that, He also let me fall. He let me fail. He let me hurt. 

Because sometimes God allows what He hates to accomplish what He loves. (thank you, Joni Eareckson Tada, for this reminder). 

And then, one day, while I was face down in the mess of things, I felt Him stir. He’d always been there. Always in the background. Always. 

Even when I wasn’t talking to Him, talking about Him, or making choices that did not reflect my care or concern for Him. 

He covered me. 

And then—because He is perfectly loyal and unbelievably kind—He reached in and grabbed me back. 

I don’t know all that you’ve been through. I don’t know if you’re like me and went rogue for a time. Or if you’ve been a steadfast follower of Jesus your whole life. But I know in every case, He covers us. He pursues us. He fights for us. 

I don’t know any other love like this. 

There is no other love like this. 

Thank You, Lord, for not giving up on us. For pursuing. For covering. For loving us without condition. May we honour You. And may we always remember Who you are. 

In Jesus’ Name, 

Amen

Scripture: Deuteronomy 31:8

I just want to acknowledge that the words I’m sorry don’t fully capture it. 

When I say I’m sorry, I want you to know I’m sorry for all that this means—the new normal you didn’t ask for, the things gone and taken that you can’t find words for. 

The far-reaching ripple effect. The empty nooks and crannies you’re still discovering. 

The difference in how people treat you. How it feels to be in old places with new knowing. 

When I say I’m sorry, I mean I’m sorry for how lonely pain is. How deeply lonely loss is. 

But how public it feels when you show up with all the courage you can muster and wonder what people think. 

I’m sorry you have to wonder. I want you to know I think you’re very brave and resilient. I want you to know what you’ve been through matters. 

What you’re going through. 

And I’m sorry if you’re wondering what’s true now—if you’re worth fighting for. If you’re enough. I’m sorry if someone has you thinking differently about what’s true of you. 

Or if what’s happened has you spinning in a story never meant for you. 

I know your Creator. He’s a genius. 

You’re the apple of His eye. 

And so, so worth fighting for. 

He will never leave you. Or betray you. Or let you do any of this alone. He has good plans. 

So I’m sorry. I’m sorry we don’t have better words for the unthinkable. 

But today, I hope you know all I mean when I say I’m so sorry. 

Also, I think it’s very brave that you’re here and willing to heal. And while I’m sorry you have to, I’m so grateful to be on this journey with you in this way.

Scripture: Philippians 1:6

I’ve done this. And maybe you have, too. 

I’ve let the injustice, the betrayal, the pain of the rejection fill me up. 

It took over parts of me not up for grabs. 

I read a saying many years ago: “If we don’t heal what’s broken, we will bleed on people who didn’t hurt us.” 

I’m not sure what genius person said this, but how true are these words?When our pain runs the show, we bleed on the innocents in our lives. 

Our kids. Our friends. Our colleagues. Those we worship with and the people we serve. 

But the trauma and the wrongdoings against us never trump what Jesus did. 

They aren’t more. We must keep in perspective what has been done for us. 

We can hurt and heal at the same time. We can honour our pain and what’s happened to us while simultaneously honouring the God of the storm. 

The Jesus of the cross. 

The One Who conquered the grave. 

The One Who still—even right now—has His hands on every single thing. 

Including your story and all you’re going through. 

Let’s give Him the room in us that He deserves. His presence helps keep things in perspective.

Scripture: 2 Corinthians 12:9-11

I would be lying if I said the healing is complete in me. It’s not. 

There are still sharp spots that flare up. Pain points I can feel from time to time. 

I want this not to be true. But here we are. 

And I’m thinking: you know exactly what I’m talking about. 

Recently, I found another sore spot. If we were sitting down over coffee today, I’d tell you all about it. It wasn’t pretty. But do you know what I did? I went straight to Jesus. 

Like, straight to the One Who travelled that road with me. Straight to the One Who carried me. Right back to Him 

And I poured it all out. Again. 

Because we are all healing from things we don’t say out loud. 

And I learned in the valley that I need to let those pain flare-ups point me back to my Source of Peace, of hope. 

Our Source of deep soul healing from the soul wounds that have sunk deep. 

He knows. He knows. 

He’s been through it before us. He stayed with us in it. And he stands on the other side, calling us forward. 

Ready to attend to those nasty wounds that keep flaring up. 

It won’t ever be perfect here. Some things will heal up nicely, and others will need ongoing attention. So today, if you’re frustrated that things don’t feel healed up, I get that today. 

Can I invite you back to his feet? 

The only One Who truly knows every detail of every pain is standing by. Open-armed and ready. 

And every single time we fall back at his feet with the unhealed pain from the past, He restores. He heals. 

And He reminds us that at His feet is exactly where we need to be.

Scripture: Jeremiah 29:13

Sliding like Gumby to the floor, I grabbed my Bible and a box of Kleenex as I passed. 

It had been a long night of anxiety, and I was judging myself for not doing better. 

For not healing faster. 

It’s a long story, but for some reason, I cracked open my Bible and—this is weird—I dropped it on my face. 

I know… weird. But there I lay, starfished out on my floor, my snotty nose buried somewhere in Amos. 

In desperation, I heard my heart cry, “Dear Jesus, this is harder than I thought it was going to be.” 

Somehow, I think you’ve prayed something quite similar. 

Before we go through it, we think we know. 

We think we have an idea of how we’d handle the unthinkable. How fast we’d bounce back from the trauma. But until we find ourselves starfished out on the floor, we really have no idea. Do we? 

But God knows. In that moment, in my most desperate and vulnerable moment, God reminded me that I was not in the battle by myself. 

In fact, it’s in these face-on-the-floor moments, the totally honest, pour-it-out prayers, that He comes running. 

Running. 

Because that’s Who He is. He’s attentive and invested. And our honest prayers—the ones that tell Him we need Him—grab His heart. 

I love this so much about Him. Nothing passes by Him. He knows. 

And He’s right there, arms wide. Ready to comfort His child. No judgment, never rushing us through our pain. Just gentle and patient. 

It’s Who He is. We can trust Him with our healing.

Scripture: Psalms 107:2-8

If you’ve been through the unthinkable, you know. 

If you’ve stood in the doorway of your life and had to say goodbye. 

If you’ve held the ashes of a covenant, a family, a normal you loved—you know. 

You just know. 

You know about the crazy train that burrows a hold through your self-esteem. Your sense of safety. 

You know about the spin cycle of emotions as you cling desperately to hope while everything seems hopeless. 

There’s an image in my mind I can’t unsee. There I am, cross-legged and broken in half on my kitchen floor. The living nightmare of the truth of things had landed hard on me. 

And as I sat there, something in my soul dragged me to my Bible. (Thank You, Jesus, for drawing us back to You.) 

There I am, in the eyes of my heart, opening my Bible. Right there in the wreckage. In the aftermath. In the brokenness. 

My heart was desperate to hear from the Covenant Keeper. 

Here’s what I read, “Let the Redeemed of the Lord say so, who He has redeemed from trouble, and gathered in from the lands, from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south. Some wandered in desert wastes, finding no way to a city to dwell in; hungry and thirsty, their soul fainted within them. 

Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them from their distress. He led them in a straight way until they reached a city to dwell in. Let them thank the Lord for His steadfast love.” (Ps. 107:28a ESV) 

This passage still grabs me so tight—His words, reaching through centuries, right into my brokenness. 

Can I offer these words to you, too? He’s gathering us back. He’s pulling us Home. Redeeming and restoring us to Him. 

Rescues aren’t pretty. But they reflect the heart of the Rescuer. And the value of the one being rescued. 

So, if you’re cross-legged on the kitchen floor of a life in pieces, I just want you to know I see you. 

And so much more than that, God sees you. And He will carry you through this. He will. 

He says you are worth rescuing. He says you are chosen. 

He says you are His.

Scriptures: Psalms 34:18, Matthew 11:28

In case you’ve ever judged your process. In case you’ve ever felt judged by others as you manage the unthinkable. The unwanted. The nightmare that’s crashed in your life. 

Please remember that grief is not a problem to be solved. 

And it’s not a thing to be avoided. 

It’s a process to be honoured. To be respected. 

Grief is the heavy lifting of loss. It’s never a straight line. It’s never a direct route. 

I’m sorry if, somewhere along the way, you’ve felt judged for your healing and grieving. If somehow the journey you’re on is being critiqued by others. 

Please be patient with your pain. And with your process. 

Standing by with open arms is the One Who understands. His eyes are locked on you, compassion and kindness overflowing in your direction. 

He knows the heaviness. The pain. He knows all that you’ve been through. Even the bits you can’t say out loud. 

He knows. 

And if I learned anything when I was face down in my own nightmare, it’s that He does not leave us alone in it. He doesn’t leave us undone. Or broken. 

And He certainly isn’t judging our pain or our process. 

He wants to join you in it. To hunker down with you in your sorrow. 

And when He does—when the Saviour of the world steps into our grief with us—things change. 

When we invite Him into the mess of things, Hope arrives. And every single time, that makes this bumpy road more manageable.

Scriptures: Psalms 57:2, 1 Peter 5:7

We’ve been through it, haven’t we? 

The hard-won-know-how we hold. The free will of others has landed hard on us. 

The choices and missteps. Our own and those of others. We carry a history of it, don’t we? And if you’re like me, sometimes it gets heavy. 

I’m sorry it’s been like this. 

And if I could climb above all the noise—above the mental chatter that seeks to hold you back—I’d declare it with the biggest voice I have. 

God’s opinion! Don’t forget—in all the noise—to listen deep to God’s opinion. 

He says you are set apart. He says you are chosen and highly favoured. 

He says you’re here on purpose for a purpose. 

Made in His image. 

Woven together. 

Known. 

He says—as He bursts wide Heaven’s doors and rushes with history-altering force in your direction—that death can’t keep Him from you. 

And so, while misguided input clangs loud in the background, please keep the ears of your heart locked on the voice of our King. 

Booming in your favour. 

Arms wide. A smile more radiant than we can imagine. 

All for you. 

He delights in you. His eyes light up for you. His heart insists on you. 

And His plan—His purpose for you—has never (ever) been shifted or changed or thwarted because of chatter. Or labels. Or the history of things. 

Hold that truth as you step into your day today.

Scripture: Psalms 56:3

In the storm – when the waves are too much, and it doesn’t look at all like you’d hoped, remember Who is asleep in the bow. 

Remember Who you travel with. 

Remember what He’s done, what He promises. 

And remember that there isn’t a storm He can’t calm. A life He can’t save. A heart He can’t heal. 

Ashes He can’t bring beauty from. 

A future He can’t redeem. 

While He may seem asleep, He is still very much in control. 

We can trust the Man in the bow. 

Scripture: Psalms 119:50

I told God He was taking too long. I told Him I was unhappy with the plan. And I told Him in every way I knew how that I was deeply unhappy with the process. 

And I challenged Him. As if I had any idea what I was talking about. 

And here’s what I heard in the push and pull of things…. 

The Potter does not have to explain Himself to the clay.

And really, the clay wouldn’t understand anyway. 

All the clay has to do is trust. It has to be pliable, open to the process, and willing to turn over the process and the timing of things to the capable and attentive hands of the Potter. 

Because healing doesn’t always look like we think it should. Sometimes, God heals us slowly. 

His timing. His plans. His process. 

And then one day, not so far off, we will look back and know. 

We will know with certainty that even in the push and pull of it all, God was never off the case even while we wrestled. 

He was never off His throne. 

His healing in His timing will never end in ashes. 

Scripture: Hebrews 6:19

I had pulled up anchor and dropped it in the wrong place. And maybe you’ve done this too. 

When we drop anchor in things that flex—in things that are broken—we find ourselves shifting with every wave. 

We can’t expect to find healing in someone who is broken. It doesn’t make sense to ask for security and stability from another free-floating person or thing. 

But I did it. And I guess, in some ways, we all do. 

Our best decision—in every single way—is to anchor deep in the unshakable, immovable Rock of Jesus. 

That’s where security is. That’s where Hope is. 

It’s where we weather storms, safe in the knowing that no matter what—no matter what—He will never shift or move.

Scriptures: 1 Peter 2:9, Psalms 18:19, Psalms 139:14-16, Genesis 1:27, Jeremiah 29:11, Romans 8:28, John 3:16

Trauma has a sinister effect on truth. 

It draws us into a brutal game of self-deprecation and then peppers it with a nasty shame-based mental narrative that spins on repeat in the background. 

Highlighting inadequacies. Shortcomings. Lies. 

It’s deafening—and so painful. 

And it’s not at all how God works. 

We must not forget to remember what God says. No matter what’s happened. Or who said what. 

God’s Words stand. 

He says you are set apart. (1 Peter 2:9) 

He says you are delighted in. (Psalm 18:19) 

He says you are fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14-16) 

Made in His image. (Genesis 1:27) 

He says He has good plans for you. (Jeremiah 29:11) 

And He says you can trust Him to work all things together for good. (Romans 8:28) 

Write these out if you need to. But determine today that you will believe what He says of you. 

And when the nasty narrative creeps back in, remember the truth. God declares you worthy of the most incredible pursuit of all time. (John 3:16) 

His life for yours. 

It’s a really big deal. You’re a really big deal. 

Let Him remind you of this today. And friend, let yourself believe it.

Scripture: 2 Corinthians 4:17-18

I know I keep telling you about that brutal season. 

The blindside and the wreckage. The total overhaul of my life back when betrayal and rejection launched me into that new normal. 

It was an unbelievably painful season of my life. 

I know you know about painful seasons. About wreckage and overhauls. 

Here’s the thing—I promised God I’d tell. 

I promised Him I’d use my pain, that I’d tell the story of how He took the really terrible thing and made it the most beautiful part of my story. 

I promised Him I’d remember. I’d remember Who He was and what He did. 

I promised Him that no matter what, I’d point people to the good, faithful, kind God. 

The One—the only One—Who reigns over all of it. 

The One Who rescues and saves. Who never leaves. Who is loyal and good. 

So, so good. 

We don’t get a comfortable life here—we just don’t. It’s part of the deal. Pain and loss are part of the deal here. 

Some seasons are incredibly hard. 

But I’ve learned this very important thing—and I think you can agree after all you’ve been through. 

Our suffering never trumps God’s sovereignty. 

Our temporary troubles are just that. Temporary. 

In light of eternity—all of this is not even a thing. 

God doesn’t owe us a comfortable life. The fact that he saves us at all still leaves me in awe. 

But here we are. Saved. Rescued. By a good, kind, reigning God Who loves us and has good plans. 

So today, own this truth. He’s reigning. He’s good. He’s kind. And He has this whole thing figured out. 

Trust Him with the details. 

Scripture: 2 Corinthians 1:4

Your wound is worth grieving. What’s happened is grief-worthy. 

Let yourself feel the pain of this. 

Please just be careful not to give it more than it deserves. To not wear it like your identity. 

You are not the sum of your wounds. You are not the sum of all that’s happened to you. 

And hidden in your scars is a message of hope and healing. A powerful message of overcoming. A message of redemption. 

Wrap your wounds in the faithful promises and hope we know. 

Lean into the healing work. 

Because one day, not too far from now, God will show you someone with similar wounds. And she will look to you with eyes wide, holding pieces she hates, and wondering how you got to the other side. 

She will need your story. 

So be a good researcher of your process. Stay tuned in to the ongoing redemptive work our God is doing in you. 

Because one day when the pain is less and you feel like yourself again, your story of hope will light the path for others. 

And you’ll stand there, heart full. 

In awe of what God does. And so grateful for a story that helps others heal.

Scripture: 1 Peter 5:10

For many months, I doubted God’s interest in bringing beauty from the ashes in my life. 

Limping my way through the aftermath of a broken marriage, I decided God was done with helping me pick up pieces. 

And, within that, I doubted this new life—the new normal on the other side of the unthinkable—would ever compare to the former life I loved. 

But I’ve learned that anything He puts His hands on—anything He rebuilds—is extraordinarily more beautiful, whole, and complete than anything before the breaking. 

I’ve been broken, and I’m guessing you have been, too. 

But God doesn’t leave us undone. He doesn’t leave us in a state of disarray. 

And when we hold up to Him the jagged bits and pieces of our broken life, He pulls together a beautiful mosaic far outshining history. 

And on the other side of it all, when He’s rearranged the gnarly bits and put His finishing touches on things, we will stand in the knowing that broken in His hands is the best place to be. 

Scripture: Ecclesiastes 3:11

I’m still learning Him. Today, as I write this, I’m still learning. He is just so big and so much more than we can ever fully comprehend. 

But what I know for sure is this: He is making gardens. With the places that feel like deserts in you, He is actively making gardens. 

He’s making dry bones dance. He is setting captives free. 

His timing and His methods are curious, for sure. Sometimes He makes us wait a long time. Sometimes, He allows us to travel very difficult roads. 

You and I know this to be true. 

But in no way does this mean He isn’t making a garden in your life. 

He is. Whether you feel it right now or not, He is. 

So my friend, trust Him with the ongoing healing process. His timing. His way. 

And if you can, pray this with me today, 

Father, we love You. We know You are good and that you fulfill Your promises. We love watching you breathe new life into dead places. We love how You take the impossible and spin it on its head. We’ve seen it in the pages of your Word and in the lives around us. 

Do Your thing here, too, Lord. We’re waiting. We’re trusting. Make Your garden in our lives. Prune and plant as you see fit. We’re not going to stop following You even when it’s hard. 

Our eyes and our hearts are on You. Thank You for what You’re up to, for loving us enough to hold tight to us, and for being a Man of Your Word.

We’re on the edge of our seats, God. 

In Your Mighty Name, Amen.

My friend, travelling these last twenty days with you has been a delight! Thank you for being part of my journey, too. 

And if we don’t get a chance to meet in this life, I look forward to time around the throne with you! 

Love, Nicole