Let’s stop playing games. We were not created to sit in the colonnades of brokenness, wearing our scars as badges of identity.
We were created for glory. Genesis says we were made in the image of God (Gen 1:27). That means creativity, love, peace, joy, authority, stewardship, and intimacy with our Maker.
We were created to walk with Him in the cool of the day, to carry His presence, and to reflect His goodness into the earth. But something went terribly wrong. Sin fractured it all. And ever since, humanity has been trying to medicate the ache. Let’s name them:
- My anxiety
- My anger
- My daddy issues
- My rejection
- My depression
- My trauma
- My addiction
Do you notice how we call them “my?”
As if we’ve claimed them as part of our identity. We even wear them as if they belong to us. We use them to excuse our behavior, or worse, to keep others hostage: “This is just who I am, deal with it”. But listen: you were not created for labels. You were created for liberty.
Here’s the truth: Some of us run to the bottle. Some to porn. Some to drugs. Some to endless scrolling, shopping, or food. Some to people- pleasing, desperate for approval. We medicate the ache with substances, relationships, or addictions. But none of them deliver.
They only numb for a moment. And then the guilt adds another chain to the prison walls.
Jeremiah 2:13 says: “My people have committed two sins: They have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water.”
That’s what we do, we drink from broken cisterns, hoping for satisfaction, but we just end up more empty than before. It’s not always because we like our prison.
Sometimes it’s because it’s familiar. Fear of change is often stronger than the pain of staying the same. We say things like: “At least I know this pain.”
“At least I know how to survive here.”
We decorate the walls of our prison, convincing ourselves it’s home. But Jesus walks into that space, like He did at Bethesda, and asks: “Do you want to get well?”
Before you shout yes, understand this: Healing will disrupt your life. It will cost you your excuses. It will strip away your pity-party. It will force you to leave the safety of the porch. When Jesus heals, He doesn’t leave you lying on the mat.
He says: “Take up your mat and walk.” (John 5:8). And once you do, there’s no lying back down again.
So how do we actually get out and stay out of trouble? Stop claiming your chains. Stop calling it my anxiety, my rejection, my addiction. Don’t give your chains a name tag. Call it what it is: a lie, a prison, a scheme of the enemy.
Confess it, don’t coddle it. James 5:16 says, “Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.”
Hiding it keeps you sick. Drag it into the light. Be accountable. Freedom isn’t a solo sport. Hebrews 10:25 says, “Don’t give up meeting together…” Community keeps you honest. Lone rangers get picked off.
Replace lies with truth.
John 8:32: “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. “Find every label you’ve believed, and counter it with what God says about you.
Choose obedience over comfort. Healing will make you uncomfortable. But freedom is always on the other side of obedience.
So I’ll ask you point blank: Do you really want to get well?
Or are you addicted to your excuses? Do you want the pity of people more than the power of God?
Do you want freedom, or just attention for being stuck? Jesus is not asking if you want to feel better. He’s asking if you want to be whole. And if your answer is yes, then hear Him clearly: “Take up your mat. Deal with it. And walk.”
I know this may sound harsh, but I know that you have everything in you to deal with your situation. (VICKY LUDICK)
Even if He doesn’t…
Yesterday in church, as I lifted my voice and sang, “God is more than able, but even if He doesn’t, my heart trusts You alone,” I was undone.
Those words cut deep because they confront us with the real question: What if God chooses not to move today? What if He doesn’t heal in this moment? What if He stays silent just a little while longer? Would our hearts grow cold, bitter, and despondent? Or would we become more desperate for Him, more surrendered, more consumed by His presence?
Faith that is rooted only in outcomes is fragile. But faith rooted in who God is will never be shaken. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego understood this when they stood before King Nebuchadnezzar. They said: “If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it… But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods.” (Dan 3:17–18) That is the heartbeat of worship. Trust that says: “Lord, my eyes are not on the miracle, I trust You because You are God.”
When last were you so in love with Jesus that it didn’t matter what He did, or didn’t, do for you?
When last did you stand in His presence, not caring who was on your left or your right, weeping simply because He is Lord and He is worthy?
Heaven longs for that kind of worship, the kind that rises not out of demand but out of devotion. Worship that says: “God, even if You don’t… my hope is still in You.”
I want to invite you today, Psalm 73:25–26 reminds us: “Whom have I in heaven but You? And earth has nothing I desire besides You. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” This is our call, to stand transparent before Him, to drop every condition, every timeline, every expectation, and simply adore Him. Because He is more than able. Because He is Lord. Because He is God. And that alone is enough.