7/14/26 Charitys podcast

You Were Never Meant to Carry It

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 1:01

Welcome, friend. I am so glad you're here. Whether you're listening from today, my prayer is that when our time together is over, you'll feel just a little closer to Jesus than you do right now. So go ahead and grab your cup of coffee or tea if that's your thing. And if you're curled up under a soft blanket, even better. And if you're driving, walking, folding laundry, or listening while life is happening all around you, I'm really glad you've invited me into your day. So before we begin, I want you to know something. Today's conversation is a tender one. We're going to talk about pain, about grief, about abuse, about miscarriage, about losing people we love, about anger, about those moments when life hurts so deeply that we find ourselves asking, God, where are you? If that's part of your story, I want you to know something before we go any farther. I'm so sorry. Truly, my heart today isn't to reopen wounds, it's to introduce those wounds to the great physician. Because that's exactly what Jesus what Jesus is, the great physician, the one who still heals broken hearts, the one who binds up wounds, the one who still meets us in the valley. So take another sip of your coffee, take a deep breath, and let's spend a little time with Jesus together. So can I ask you something? Have you ever been angry with God? Or am I the only one who ever has? And honestly, I think that's one of the hardest things for Christians to admit. We don't mind saying we've struggled, we'll say we've been discouraged, we'll even say we've had doubts. But anger? That feels different because somewhere along the way, many of us started believing that if we admitted we were angry with God, somehow He would love us less. Friend, can I tell you something else that has changed my life? God isn't afraid of your honesty, He already knows what's in your heart. You're not hiding anything from Him. The Psalms are full of people crying out to God with hard questions. David asked, How long, O Lord? Job poured out his grief. And even Jesus hanging on the cross cried, My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? God has never been intimidated by honest hearts. He's drawn near to them. There was a season in my own life when I was hurt and angry at God. I looked at everything I'd been through, the abuse, the trauma, the heartbreak, the losses. Can I tell you? I don't think I've ever admitted this plainly. I didn't just question God. I blamed him. It was deep. I would replay everything that happened in my life over and over and think, God, if you could stop the wind and calm the sea, why didn't you stop this? If you knew this was going to happen, why didn't you protect me? Those weren't easy questions to ask, you know? And for a long time I was ashamed that I was ashamed that I had those thoughts. I thought a good Christian wasn't supposed to feel that way. But you know what I've discovered? God never pushed me away because I came to him with honest questions. He drew me closer. Maybe you've asked those same questions. Maybe you're asking them today. If you are, please stay with me because I want to tell you what Jesus did with my questions. Maybe you're wondering where God was when your marriage fell apart. Maybe you're wondering where he was when you buried someone you love so deeply. Maybe you're wondering where he was when you experienced rape, sexual abuse, miscarriage, betrayal, or a diagnosis you never saw coming. Friend, if that's you, I want you to hear me. I've asked those questions too. I remember a season when I carried so much anger toward God. I blamed him, I questioned him, I cried, then I became deeply sad. And if I'm honest, I stayed there for quite a while. Maybe you've been there too. Maybe you're there right now. Can I tell you what I finally realized? I wasn't just carrying my pain. I was carrying the weight I was never created to carry. I think so many of us do that. We carry guilt, we carry shame, we carry grief, we carry memories, we carry words someone spoke over us years ago. We carry the what ifs, we carry the if only's, and before we know it, we're exhausted with nothing left to keep going on. Not because God is far away, but because we've picked up burdens he never asked us to carry. Jesus says in Matthew 11, 28 through 30, Come to me all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Friend, notice that Jesus doesn't say, Come to me after you've figured everything out. I don't know about you, but I am so thankful it doesn't say that. He doesn't say, Come to me after you've cleaned up your life. And once again, I am so thankful. I don't have to clean myself up first. He simply says, Come. That's one of my favorite invitations in all of scripture. It makes me so excited that I just want to shout and clap because it means I can come exactly as I am. Isn't that awesome? What a one what wonderful news that is. I can come broken, confused, angry, hurting with more questions than answers. I can still come, and so can you. Friend, can I ask you something? Maybe you've been carrying this longer than you realize. Maybe sometimes we carry pain for so long that it becomes part of our identity. We convince ourselves we're okay because we've learned how to function. We smile when we ask, when people ask how we're doing. We say we're fine, we're good. You know, I'm sure you've done that. I know I have. We stay busy because being busy keeps us from feeling what's really going on inside. We become so confused. We become, I'm sorry, we become so used to carrying the weight that we forget what it feels like to live without it. Maybe you've been carrying shame. Maybe you've been carrying grief. Maybe you've been carrying the words someone spoke over you years ago. Maybe you've been carrying unforgiveness, maybe you've been carrying anger toward God. Friend, being strong isn't the same as being healed. Trust me, I know this. Sometimes we've become experts at surviving while our hearts are still waiting to be healed. And maybe, just maybe, that's why Jesus said, Come to me. Not because he wanted to give us another burden, but because he wanted to take one we were never meant to carry. Sometimes God doesn't begin healing us by changing our circumstances. Sometimes he begins by changing what we're carrying. I remember the day everything changed for me. It wasn't because I suddenly understood why everything had happened. I still don't have all the answers. It wasn't because the memories disappeared. It wasn't because all the hurt magically went away. It changed because I reached the end of myself. Have you ever had a moment like this? Where you've hit bottom, you couldn't do it any longer. Where you reached the end of yourself, you had nothing left to give. Maybe you've had a moment like that. Maybe yours was in a hospital room. Maybe it was after everyone else had gone to bed. Maybe it was sitting in your car after hearing devastating news. Mine happened in a car one day. Driving to and from work. I had had all that I could handle. I was deeply broken. At this point I was not only angry at God, I was angry at myself for completely going down this bad, crazy path that I had chosen. Have you ever been there? Or is it just me? I was going through the emotions. I was going through the emotions and was kind of in a complete daze. I was so exhausted from pretending and trying to keep my girls safe while enduring extreme sexual abuse and mental abuse. I had nothing left to give anyone. I cried harder than I had ever cried that day. I wasn't trying to sound spiritual. I wasn't praying pretty prayers. I was simply talking to my heavenly father. I told him I was angry. I told him I was hurt. I told him I didn't understand. I told him I was so sorry for everything that I had done wrong through all of this, and somewhere in all of those tears. Sorry, I stopped trying to carry everything by myself. I laid it all down. Not because I was suddenly strong, not because I finally admitted I wasn't, and for me that was huge. I wasn't strong at all. And I grew up in a generation when we were supposed to be strong. Weakness wasn't something that you showed just because you were supposed to be strong. And can I tell you something? The morning after I had laid everything down for before Jesus, I didn't wake up with all of my problems solved. Although that would have been really nice. But seriously, I still had memories. I still had healing to do. I still had a huge mess to clean up that I had created. But something had changed. I wasn't carrying it by myself anymore. There was a peace. I couldn't underst I couldn't explain or understand at the moment. But little by little, Jesus began healing places I thought would always stay broken. It wasn't overnight, and healing rarely is, but every step I took with him became one step farther away from hopelessness. Psalm fifty two twenty two says, Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you. He will never permit the righteous to be moved. Friend, laying it down doesn't mean pretending it never happened. It doesn't mean what happened to you was okay. It doesn't mean you'll never cry again. It doesn't mean healing happens overnight. Sometimes healing takes counseling, which I highly recommend. Sometimes it takes trusted Christian friends, which I also highly recommend. Being in a right circle, having the right circle of friends. Sometimes it takes years of walking with Jesus. Sometimes it takes all of these things. But laying it down means I'm choosing to trust Jesus with what I cannot carry anymore. That changed everything for me. Listen to that again. I'm choosing to trust Jesus with what I cannot carry anymore. Then I began to understand something I wish someone had told me years earlier. God didn't do those things to me. We live in a fallen world. When sin entered the world through Adam and Eve, everything changed. Romans 512 tells us, therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people. We live in a world where people make sinful choices. People hurt people. Bodies get sick, hearts get broken, children die, relationships end. None of those things reflect God's original design. But here's what gives me hope. Our broken world never changed God's character. He is still good, he is still faithful, he is still near. Jesus Himself told us in John sixteen thirty three, in this world you will have trouble. But take heart, I have overcome the world. Notice he never promised a trouble free life. He promised his presence. He promised victory. And he promised we'd never have to walk through suffering alone. I don't know about you, but that gives me hope that he promises his presence and victory. One of my favorite verses is in 1 Peter 5 through 7. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Not because he's disappointed in you, not because he's tired of hearing from you, but because he cares for you. He cares about the sleepless nights. He cares about the anniversary dates and the birthday dates that still hurt so deeply. He cares about the questions you don't know how to ask. He cares about you. And maybe today. If you've experienced rape or sexual abuse, this is for you. If you've experienced a miscarriage, or maybe multiple miscarriages, this is for you. If you've lost a child, this is for you. If you've battled addiction, this is for you. If you've walked through divorce, this is for you. If you've been betrayed by someone you trusted, this is for you. If you've buried someone you loved, this is for you. If you've been angry with God, this is for you. If you're simply tired, this is for you. Jesus sees you. He sees you, he knows your story, he has not forgotten you. Isaiah 61 says that he came to bind up the brokenhearted, to comfort those who mourn, and to give them beauty for ashes. I love that picture because God doesn't pretend the ashes never existed, he brings beauty out of them. That's exactly what he's been doing in my life. Romans 8 28 says, and we know that in all things God works for the good. Of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Notice what that verse does not say. It doesn't say all things are good. Abuse is not good. Rape is not good. Sexual abuse is not good. Miscarriage is not good. The loss of a child is not good. Addiction is not good. Cancer is not good. Betrayal is not good. Those things grieve my heart. Grieve, and they grieve the heart of God. But here's the incredible promise in Romans 8 28. God can take the most broken pieces of our lives and weave them into something beautiful for His glory and for our good. He doesn't ignore our tears. When I look back over my life, I can honestly tell you that I would never choose the things I've been through. If I could erase the trauma, the abuse, the heartbreak, and the grief, I would. But if I erase those chapters, I would erase some of the most sweetest moments where I've experienced the presence of Jesus. It was in my brokenness that I learned He really is close to the brokenhearted. It was in my weakness that I discovered his strength. When I was finally it was when I finally stopped trying to carry everything myself that I finally found the peace only He could give. I know I haven't. There are still questions I have, but I've learned that I don't have to understand everything, to trust in the one who holds tomorrow. Proverbs 3, 5 through 6 says, Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not into your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. God will never ask us to figure everything out. He never asks us to do that. He asks us to trust him. And I know that's easier said than done sometimes. Trust is built one step at a time. Sometimes trust looks like getting out of bed when your heart is broken. Sometimes trust looks like opening up your Bible when you don't feel anything. Sometimes trust looks like whispering, Jesus, help me. Because that's all you have strength to say. And do you know what? That's enough. That's enough because Jesus meets us in those moments. Friend, before we close today, I want to ask you to do something with me. Wherever you are, if you're able. Just open up your hands. Open them up for just a moment. Imagine that every burden you've been carrying. Imagine them all. The grief, hand it to Jesus. The shame, hand it to Jesus. The anger. Now hand it to Jesus. The fear. Now hand it to Jesus. The memories. Hand them to Jesus. The questions. Now hand them to Jesus. Now just for a moment. Imagine handing Jesus every single burden that you've been carrying. Hand them to Jesus. Not because they're gone forever, but in this moment. But because you're no longer going to carry them alone. Let's pray. Heavenly Father, thank you for loving us in the middle of our pain. Thank you for never abandoning us even when we couldn't see you. Thank you for being so close to the brokenhearted and faithful through every single season. For my friend listening today, I pray that you would wrap them in your peace. Remind them that they are seen, they are deeply loved, and they are never alone. Give them the courage to trust you with what they've been carrying for far too long. Heal what only you can heal. Restore what only you can restore and help each of us leave today just a little closer to you than when we began. We love you, Lord, in Jesus' name. Amen and amen. Before we go, I want to leave you with one final scripture, and it's in Lamentations 3, 22 through 23. Because of the Lord's great love, we are not confused consumed. For we for his compassions, they never fail. They are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness. Friend, if today has been heavy, I want you to remember this. God's mercy is new every morning, not just on your good days, not just on the days when your faith feels strong. Every morning, his compassion never runs out, his love never fails, and his faithfulness never once leaves you. Maybe today is the day you stop carrying what was never yours to carry. Maybe today is the day that you lay it all at the feet of Jesus, not because suddenly everything makes sense, but because you've decided to trust the one who does. Thank you for spending this time with me today. It truly means so much that you choose to share these moments with me. My prayer is that when our conversation began, you may have felt overwhelmed, discouraged, or weary, but now I pray you leave with me a little more hope, a little more peace, and a heart that's just a little closer than it was 30 minutes ago. Friends, closer to Jesus that is than it was 30 minutes ago, friend. Whatever you're carrying today, don't carry it alone. Jesus is still inviting you to come. Until next time, keep your Bibles open, read them, keep your coffee warm, and keep your eyes on Jesus. And remember, every conversation is an invitation to come a little closer to Jesus. Grace and peace, my friend.