When Healing Resembles the Slow Unfolding of a Rose

“Allana, are you well enough to be here?”

The Dean of Students looked me straight in the eyes. My heart sank, stricken by the seriousness of his tone.

This was not how I expected our meeting to go. When my self-harming behavior landed me in the dean’s office at my rural Bible college, I had hoped for a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and a gentle affirmation of my struggles. I wanted someone to coddle me, see how much I was hurting, and take pity on me.

Instead, I was met with a concerned but non-negotiable ultimatum: stop self-harming or seek help elsewhere.

With a sinking stomach, I nodded at the Dean.

“Yes,” I said weakly. I was not about to leave Bible college because of my depression and anxiety, not after I had spent my entire high school career building a reputation as a straight-A, top-of-the-class student. I had an image to maintain.

“Good,” the dean replied, smiling at me. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Hitting Rock Bottom

After our meeting concluded, I hurried back to my dorm room, where I sank to the floor and bawled my eyes out.

“Please, Jesus, please . . .” I sobbed, wiping mascara-stained tears from my face. “Please, help me.”

I was mortified by the outcome of my meeting with the Dean. I understood why he posed such a question to me. This was a small school, and they weren’t equipped to handle someone struggling with my level of suicidality. If I needed serious psychiatric help, it was only right of them to ask me to seek it elsewhere rather than overburdening my RA.

Nevertheless, the dean’s direct confrontation of my self-harming behavior overwhelmed me with shame. His question drove a knife through my heart, reinforcing the message that pounded through my head every single day: I am broken.

Thankfully, God had no intention of leaving me in my brokenness.

As I sat there curled up on my dorm room floor, I felt the presence of the Lord Jesus in a way I had never experienced before. I sensed the Spirit in the room with me, kneeling beside me, looking at me with compassion in his eyes. That day, I vowed that no matter what it took, I would win the battle against suicidality.

That was eight years ago. Today, I am living testimony of God’s redemption.

From the Pit of Destruction

In Psalm 40:1–3, David declared, “I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from pit of destruction, out of the miry bog and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God.”

Just as he did for David, the Lord rescued me from a pit of destruction, where I lay languishing in the mud and mire of spiritual bondage. He set my feet upon the firm foundation of his truth, making my steps secure. Every day he fills my heart with praise, giving me a new song to sing.

But this redemption did not happen overnight.

I’ve heard testimonies of those who hit rock bottom, cried out to Jesus, and experienced instantaneous deliverance from addiction, mental illness, or spiritual attack.

That, unfortunately, is not my story. Mine is a story of progressive restoration, of slow, painful healing from the emotional wounds that run deep into my childhood. My meeting with the dean did not immediately cure me of all my mental health struggles. Instead, it strengthened my resolve and set me on the right path. But I still had to embark on the journey of recovery one day at a time.

Though I self-harmed only once more after that pivotal meeting, it was several years before I achieved a significant improvement in my mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being. I had nearly two decades of unresolved trauma to address, and it needed to be unpacked one beat-up box at a time.

After resolving to overcome my mental illness no matter the cost, I spent the next five years in therapy, where I grew in my knowledge and understanding of anxiety, depression, and relational trauma. Through counseling, I discovered that my wounds ran deeper than I initially imagined.

Depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation were only the tip of the iceberg for me. Underneath them lay crippling perfectionism, an undiagnosed eating disorder, and the trauma of childhood sexual abuse.

Deeper and deeper I probed into my past, courageously determined to heal from everything, even when the emotional pain felt excruciating or unbearable. At times I feared that it would be impossible to fully heal from my suffering. In my darker moments, I succumbed to the lie that I was irreparably damaged and unworthy of the freedom I craved.

But God refused to leave me in that bondage. No matter how many times I collapsed from exhaustion or went running back to my old thoughts, he continued to chase me down, pick me up, and carry me to freedom.

Bind Up the Brokenhearted

In my healing journey, few passages have become as meaningful to me as Isaiah 61, wherein Isaiah prophesied concerning the coming Messiah:

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners . . . to comfort all who mourn and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of despair. (Isa. 61:1–3 NIV).

When Jesus returned to Galilee “in the power of the Spirit” (Luke 4:14) after resisting Satan’s temptations in the wilderness, this is the passage of Scripture he read aloud in the synagogue to announce the beginning of his earthly ministry (Luke 4:16–21). In effect, he was publicly declaring his mission statement.

Christ came to undo the damage of sin and suffering, and he often did this immediately. He could drive out a demon (Luke 4:31–35), heal the sick (Luke 4:38–39; 8:42–48), and raise the dead (Luke 8:49–55; John 11:38–44) with a single command. One word from Jesus, and all was well.

Miraculously, the Holy Spirit continues this today—healing people of physical, mental, and spiritual ailments through the power of a single prayer. But just as often, healing resembles the slow unfolding of a rose: a quiet, gradual process of growth and maturation.

Pressing Onward Toward Wholeness

In the New Testament, this kind of slow sanctification was exemplified through the life of The Apostle Paul, who told the Philippians that his desire was “to know [Christ] and the power of his resurrection . . . [to] share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead” (Phil. 3:10–11).

Paul was clear, his sanctification was an ongoing process. He proceeded to clarify: “Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ has made me his own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 3:12–14).

Yes, Paul experienced a radical, life-changing encounter with Christ on the road to Damascus (Acts 9), but he spent the rest of his earthly years being refined and humbly learning how to become progressively more like Jesus (Gal. 2:20; Phil.1:21).

So it is with us. Receiving salvation is only the first step in our journey toward wholeness. From that day forward, the rest of our lives will be spent undergoing the day-by-day work of maturation.

A Crown of Beauty

Though my healing journey has been a long, arduous one, I am grateful for every day of it. Because of the slow unfolding of my restoration, I have experienced the Lord’s tenderness, compassion, and patience in ways I never would have if he had healed my wounds with a snap of his fingers.

When I look back over the last eight years, I see the seeds of grace scattered abundantly over the ashes of my life. New life blooms where there was once nothing but ruins. If the last eight years have proven anything about God’s goodness, then I’m trusting that there is only more to come.

If you feel broken, scarred, or irredeemable, know this: There is hope for healing. Your story is not finished.

Come to Christ, my friend! Only he can trade your spirit of despair for a garment of praise. Let him take the ashes of your past and replace them with a crown of beauty. He’s longing to bind up your broken heart and fill you with new life.