When Healing Feels Like Losing: Trusting God in the Middle of the Undoing

A woman crying

Hey sis,

I've been out of sync with life due to the transition of moving. Whew it was rough - but God! However, I am back to the business of your voice of clarity and healing...

So with that said, can I be honest with you for a second?

Sometimes healing doesn’t feel holy — it feels like heartbreak.

You think saying yes to God’s healing means peace and clarity, but instead you find yourself in the middle of a painful unraveling. Things you used to depend on stop working. Relationships shift. What you prayed for falls apart in front of you.

And suddenly you’re standing there saying, “God… I asked You to heal me, not ruin my life.”

But here’s what nobody tells you about healing — it often looks like losing before it looks like freedom.

When God Starts Pulling Things Apart

Healing isn’t just about feeling better — it’s about becoming whole.

And sometimes, that means God has to undo everything that wasn’t built on truth.

You asked Him for peace, and He started exposing the people who keep you anxious.

You asked Him for clarity, and He showed you the parts of yourself you’ve been avoiding.

You asked Him for strength, and He started stripping away your comfort zones.

Love, that’s not punishment. That’s process.

“Every branch that does bear fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.” — John 15:2 (ESV)

God doesn’t prune what’s dead — He prunes what’s growing.

He’s cutting away what’s limiting your capacity to flourish.

But pruning hurts. It’s confusing. It feels unfair. And it’s so easy to mistake the pain of pruning for the absence of God.

When Healing Feels Like Heartbreak

Let’s talk about that ache nobody preaches about — the grief of becoming new.

When you start healing, you lose more than people. You lose versions of yourself.

The “people-pleasing” you. The “always strong” you. The “I’ll just pray it away” you. You start realizing how much of your identity was built around surviving instead of thriving.

And that realization? It hurts.

Because part of you misses the comfort of being who you were, even if she was exhausted and hurting.

You find yourself in this weird space where you’re not who you were — but you’re not who you’re becoming yet, either.

That in-between place where everything familiar is fading, and you’re tempted to go back just to feel something stable again.

Sis, that’s not regression. That’s rebirth.

Healing isn’t just an event — it’s an undoing.

And undoing is sacred work.

The Holy Work of Unraveling

You can’t heal what you keep holding together out of fear.

Sometimes God has to let it fall apart so you’ll finally let Him rebuild it.

And yes — it’s messy. It’s confusing. It’s unfair. But it’s also holy ground.

You think you’re losing control, but really, you’re losing the illusion of control.

You think you’re falling apart, but you’re actually falling into alignment.

You think God’s taking things from you, but He’s really taking things off you — the expectations, the guilt, the false peace, the survival mode that’s kept you functioning but not free.

“Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” — Isaiah 43:19 (ESV)

He’s not trying to destroy you.

He’s trying to deliver you.

But before He brings you into newness, He’ll strip away anything that can’t survive the next version of you.

The Cost of Healing

Nobody talks about how healing can feel like grief.

You’re not just healing from what was done to you — you’re healing from who you had to become to survive it.

That woman who overextended herself.

Who tolerated disrespect because she was afraid of abandonment.

Who served until she was empty, called it faith, and called exhaustion “God’s will.”

You loved her because she got you this far.

But she can’t go where God’s taking you next.

So when it feels like you’re losing pieces of yourself, remember — you’re shedding the layers that no longer fit your healed identity.

You’re not falling apart. You’re being re-formed.

Learning to Trust God in the Middle

Sis, here’s the truth: trusting God in the middle of the undoing is some of the hardest faith you’ll ever walk out.

Because there’s no blueprint. No clarity. Just questions and tears and the uncomfortable silence of obedience.

But even in that silence, He’s still speaking — through the unraveling, the endings, the quiet ache. He’s teaching you to lean on presence, not patterns.

This season isn’t about figuring out “why.

”It’s about learning to say, “Even if I don’t understand, I still believe You’re good.”

Because healing isn’t linear — it’s layered.

It’s the holy middle where God meets you halfway between your breaking and your becoming.

Practical Steps for the Middle Season

Here’s how to walk through the undoing without losing yourself:

1. Give yourself permission to grieve.

You can mourn what’s ending and trust what’s coming. Grief is not lack of faith — it’s evidence of love.

2. Stop calling survival your assignment.

God didn’t call you to live in crisis mode forever. Release the identity built on always “handling it.”

3. Let God redefine peace. Peace doesn’t always mean comfort — sometimes it means clarity, even when clarity hurts.

4. Build emotional rhythms with God.

Journal your prayers. Cry in His presence. Be honest before you’re “spiritual.”He can handle your truth better than you can hide it.

5. Ask yourself: “What is God inviting me to release?”

Sometimes the healing starts when you stop trying to save what God already closed.

A Word from My Heart to Yours

Sis, I know this season hurts. I know it feels unfair. You’ve carried people, served faithfully, given more than you had, and now you’re watching God dismantle everything that made you feel stable.

It’s okay to not understand it.

It’s okay to miss what He’s removing.

But don’t confuse loss with lack.

You haven’t lost control — you’ve been released from it.

You haven’t lost your identity — you’re remembering it.

You haven’t lost God’s favor — you’re finally feeling His freedom.

And when this season ends — because it will — you’ll look back and realize nothing you lost compares to what you gained in peace, in purpose, and in partnership with Him.

“Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy.” — Psalm 126:5 (ESV)

You’re not being undone. You’re being reborn.

Prayer

Father,

Thank You for the undoing — even when I don’t understand it. Give me the courage to release what’s no longer aligned with who You’re calling me to be. Help me see the pruning as protection, and the loss as love. Teach me to trust You in the tension — when my heart hurts, when my plans change, when healing feels like losing. And when I can’t see what You’re doing, remind me that You’re still good, still present, and still for me. In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

With love, peace, and tons of grace,

Adrienne K.