One of the Bravest Things We Can Do Is Heal
We often think of bravery as something loud, charging into battle, standing on a stage, climbing a mountain, or speaking out against injustice. And while those things are indeed courageous, there’s a quieter kind of bravery that often goes unnoticed. It happens in the unseen places of the heart. It’s not flashy. It’s not always celebrated. But it is powerful.
One of the bravest things we can do is heal.
Healing takes guts. It asks us to face pain we’d rather avoid, to revisit stories we’d rather forget, and to feel emotions we’ve worked hard to suppress. It invites us to trade numbness for tenderness, control for surrender, and shame for grace. Healing means we stop pretending we’re fine when we’re not. It means we open the door to vulnerability, and that takes serious courage.
Because let’s be honest: staying wounded is easier in the short term. It’s familiar. It requires less effort. It lets us build walls and stay hidden. But over time, unhealed pain doesn’t stay still. It leaks out—in our relationships, in our decisions, in the way we talk to ourselves. Wounds that go untended don’t disappear. They just fester. And we work awfully hard to maintain the unhealed parts of us, it's costly, it's messy and it's also a whole lot of work.
Healing, on the other hand, is active. Intentional. Sometimes it's messy, too. Often uncomfortable. But always worth it.
It’s brave to admit we’re hurt. It’s brave to ask for help. It’s brave to let someone else see our tears and not try to wipe them away. It’s brave to stop performing and start being honest. It’s brave to grieve what was lost and open ourselves up to what might still be possible.
Healing is holy work. It's the slow, sacred process of becoming whole again—not perfect, but real. Not untouched by life, but softened and shaped by it in redemptive ways.
Sometimes healing means going to counseling, coaching or joining a support group. Sometimes it’s confronting a painful memory with a trusted friend by your side. Sometimes it’s learning to sit still long enough to listen to what your heart is actually saying. Sometimes it’s choosing forgiveness, not to excuse what happened, but to free yourself from its grip.
And sometimes, the bravest act of all is simply choosing to keep showing up—imperfect, wounded, in-process, and refusing to give up.
If you’re in a season of healing right now, I want to say this: You are incredibly brave.
You may not feel strong, but strength isn’t always loud or visible. Sometimes it looks like crying in your car, saying no to something that used to define you, or whispering a prayer you’re not even sure anyone hears. Healing is a hundred small choices, some of them trembling, all of them bold.
You are not weak for needing to heal. You are wise. You are not broken beyond repair. You are becoming. You are not alone. So many of us are walking this same path, even if we don’t always talk about it.
The world may applaud your productivity, your polished image, your ability to “hold it together.” But Heaven celebrates your honesty, your softness, your willingness to be made new.
Jesus doesn’t turn away from our wounds. He moves toward them. He meets us in our mess, sits with us in our sorrow, and gently begins the work of restoration. The God who makes all things new starts with us, heart first.
So if you’re tired, or hurting, or wondering if it’s even worth the effort to keep trying, let this be a gentle reminder: healing is not only worth it, it’s beautiful.
It’s brave.
It’s sacred.
And you, dear friend, are not falling apart. You are healing. Let yourself be loved in the process. Let yourself rest. Let yourself hope again, even if it’s just a flicker. Because that flicker is enough. It’s the beginning of light. And sometimes, the bravest thing we can do is take that next small, wobbly step toward wholeness.
Take these with you:
Healing isn’t weakness, it’s courageous.
Real strength is often quiet, tender, and unseen.
Healing is holy work, and Jesus is not afraid of our mess.
You don’t have to do it alone. Safe people and God’s love are part of the journey.
Every step toward healing is a brave one—even the ones that feel small.
Want to go deeper in your healing journey? You don’t have to figure it out alone. Surround yourself with truth-tellers, encouragers, and those who will walk with you, not rush you. Because your healing matters. And so do you.
So for you and your healing journey,
Peace, love and joy,
Rebecca Jo