Healing Was Slow, But It Was Real

I used to think healing would feel obvious. Like one clear moment where God stepped in, everything shifted, and I could point to it and say, there. That was the day.

But the healing I have lived has not been a single day. It has been a slow line, traced in tiny decisions, quiet prayers, and ordinary mornings that did not feel holy at all.

For a long time I kept waiting for the version of restoration that felt dramatic. I wanted a clean story. I wanted the before and after. I wanted to wake up and feel different. Instead, I kept waking up and feeling mostly the same, except maybe a little more tired of pretending I was fine.

So I started to ask God questions I did not love asking.

Are You actually healing me, or am I just learning how to cope.

Is it possible that healing is happening and I am missing it because it does not look impressive.

I think part of me expected God to restore me in a way that would also prove something. Prove that I prayed right. Prove that I believed hard enough. Prove that I was finally past it. But God does not seem interested in performing for my standards. He is interested in making me whole.

God restores.

I have found that restoration often looks like getting my breath back first. Not running. Not thriving. Just breathing without the tightness I used to carry around like it was normal. Restoration looks like responding differently to the same old trigger. Like noticing the anxiety rise and choosing not to obey it. Like making a decision from peace, even if my emotions are loud.

At first, those changes felt too small to count. I almost dismissed them. But small changes are still changes. A bruise heals slowly too, and you do not notice it until one day you realize it does not ache when you press it.

That is what my healing has felt like.

Some days, honestly, it felt like nothing was happening at all. I would pray, then cry, then go about my day. I would read Scripture and feel comforted for a moment, then feel the same heaviness return. And I started to wonder if the Lord was disappointed in me for being a slow learner.

But I do not think He is.

I think He is patient. I think He stays. I think He keeps restoring, even when I cannot see it, because restoration is who He is. I have learned that the fruit of healing is not always happiness. Sometimes the fruit is stability. Sometimes it is honesty. Sometimes it is the ability to stay present without spiraling.

And sometimes it is the courage to tell the truth about how long it took.

There was a season where I tried to rush the process by turning healing into a project. I researched. I planned. I made lists. I kept trying to understand myself into freedom. But healing is not earned through effort. Healing is received. It is allowed. It is surrendered into.

I cannot manufacture restoration, but I can make space for it.

I can sit with God even when I feel numb.

I can stop pretending.

I can let the Lord touch the places in me that I would rather keep hidden, even from myself.

That has been one of the strangest parts of slow healing. It has required me to stop running from my own heart. It has asked me to let God restore me from the inside out, which means I have to actually face what is inside.

That is uncomfortable.

But it is also real.

And slowly, very slowly, I began to notice something else. The story was changing. Not with fireworks, but with consistency. The same God who restores was restoring me in layers, like He was rebuilding something I thought was beyond repair.

I do not know why I expected God to be in a hurry. He is eternal. He is not anxious. He is not behind. And I think my slow healing has taught me something about His character that fast healing never could.

He is gentle.

He does not rip the bandage off my heart just to prove He can.

He restores in a way I can survive.

Now when I hear the word testimony, I do not think of a flawless transformation. I think of a faithful God. A God who stays close enough to notice the small victories and strong enough to carry the setbacks.

And I think that is why slow healing matters. Because it creates a testimony that does not rely on emotional intensity. It relies on God’s steadiness. It is not about me getting impressive. It is about God being faithful.

If you are in the middle of a healing journey and it feels like you are taking forever, I want you to hear this.

Slow healing is still healing.

If it is real, it counts.

If you want something tangible that keeps truth close through the slow days, our Be Still and Know Magnetic Bookmark is built for exactly that, Scripture you can see, hold, and return to

Not as a shortcut. Just as a companion.

Because sometimes faith is not loud. Sometimes it is simply staying.

And God restores.

Faith in the Making questions

Where have I been dismissing small progress because it does not feel dramatic.

What would it look like to trust that God restores even when I cannot measure it.

What is one gentle practice I can return to this week that makes space for healing.