Your not Broken but…

YOU’RE NOT BROKEN BUT…— YOU’RE TORMENTED BY PAST TRAUMA

There are moments when the weight a person carries becomes too heavy to hide behind polite smiles and polite Christian language. Moments when the pressure in the soul reveals itself in quiet ways—through the trembling of a voice, through the sudden silence in a conversation, through a look in the eyes that says more than words ever could. And I’ve seen that look too many times to misinterpret it. It’s the look of someone who believes they’re broken.

Not because of sin.

Not because of rebellion.

Not because they’re running from God.

But because somewhere along the way, something traumatic happened that reshaped their nervous system, their emotional patterns, their sense of identity. And ever since that moment—whether it was a sudden blow or a slow erosion—they’ve lived with an invisible ache.

People say, “Just trust God. Just pray. Just surrender.” And the person nods, because they want to. They desperately want to. But inside, the wound is still open. Not because they lack faith, but because some pain presses deeper than simple words can reach.

And that’s why I felt such urgency to write this—not as a polished teaching, not as a theological treatise, but as a prophetic burden. Something heavy, something holy, something that felt like it belonged to the Lord long before it came to me. Because I believe He wants to whisper into the deepest places of hearts everywhere:

“You’re not broken.

You’re tormented by past trauma.

And I’m here to heal both.”

There’s a misconception in the church that all emotional struggle is sin, that all psychological distress is weakness, that all inner conflict is a failure of faith. But the truth is far more compassionate—and far more spiritual. Trauma has a spiritual dimension. Pain opens doors. Wounds create cracks in the soul where darkness can slip in, whispering lies, distorting identity, amplifying fear, and building strongholds over time.

And the people who suffer the most are often the ones who never complain, never draw attention to themselves, never admit their exhaustion. They just keep going, keep serving, keep giving, keep smiling—while their unhealed memories keep screaming beneath the surface.

This is for them.

For you.

For the ones who learned to survive when they should have been safe.

For the ones who learned to be strong when they should have been protected.

For the ones who blamed themselves when none of it was their fault.

Trauma doesn’t mean you’re broken.

It means you were wounded in a moment where you had no defense.

And torment doesn’t mean you’re weak.

It means something dark saw the wound and decided to build a home inside it.

But we need to start at the beginning.

Not at the moment of torment, but the moment of trauma.

Because trauma is more than an event.

It’s an impact—a collision between your vulnerable humanity and someone else’s failure, cruelty, neglect, or absence.

It’s the moment your heart absorbed something it wasn’t built for.

The moment your brain froze because it had no category for what was happening.

The moment your soul felt the ground collapse beneath your feet.

Trauma can come as a single sudden moment—

a betrayal,

a blow,

a terrifying experience,

an abandonment,

a loss,

a violation,

a moment where the world stopped feeling safe.

Or trauma can come through slow erosion—

years of criticism,

years of walking on eggshells,

years of emotional neglect,

years of being unseen or unheard,

years of feeling like nothing you did was enough.

And the truth is this:

your personality did not “break.”

Your nervous system adapted to survive.

Think about that for a moment.

The parts of you you’ve been calling “my issues”—

the hypervigilance,

the anxiety,

the overthinking,

the shutdowns,

the distrust,

the emotional intensity,

the fear of abandonment—

these didn’t appear because your character is flawed.

They appeared because something in your history threatened your sense of safety.

And your body, your soul, your subconscious, did exactly what it had to do in order to keep you alive—emotionally, mentally, spiritually.

You shouldn’t blame yourself for surviving.

You should honor the strength it took to get this far.

But even survival has a cost.

If trauma is never healed, survival becomes a lifestyle.

The emergency mode becomes the default setting.

And torment comes to fill the gaps.

Because torment is what happens when trauma is left unaddressed.

The panic that hits you without reason—

that’s not weakness.

It’s the echo of a moment where fear carved its initials into your nervous system.

The insecurity that flares up suddenly—

that’s not failure.

It’s the residue of a time when someone else made you feel unwanted.

The shame that washes over you out of nowhere—

that’s not dysfunction.

It’s the lingering voice of a lie that entered through humiliation, rejection, or betrayal.

But here’s what the Lord kept showing me:

The wound opened the door.

But the torment walked through it.

And He has come to deal with both.

I’ve learned something important over the years: people don’t need to be told they’re broken. They need to be told they’re seen. They need to be told they’re understood. They need to be told that what they feel makes sense—not because it’s true, but because it was birthed in trauma.

So let me tell you something plainly:

your emotions aren’t “overreactions.” They’re memories.

Your triggers aren’t “irrational.” They’re alarms.

Your patterns aren’t “dysfunction.” They’re protection mechanisms that outlived their season.

And the Lord whispers into these very places…

“I know why you feel this way.

I know the story behind your reactions.

I know the pain behind the fear.

I know the moment where hope shut down.

I know the reason trust feels dangerous.

I know every scar, every silence, every tear.

And I’m not afraid to touch the places everyone else avoids.”

Listen to me:

You do not have a “faith problem.”

You have a trauma that taught your heart to fear.

You do not have a “relationship problem.”

You have a memory that taught your soul to distrust.

You do not have an “emotional problem.”

You have a wound that taught your spirit to brace for impact.

You do not have a “spiritual problem.”

You have a torment that took advantage of your vulnerability.

And today, we expose it.

The Lord has been highlighting something to me again and again:

“My people misdiagnose themselves.

They call themselves broken when they are actually in bondage.

They call themselves fragile when they are actually under attack.

They call themselves damaged when they are actually deeply wounded.

They call themselves failures when they are actually survivors.”

You’ve been fighting battles you didn’t even realize were battles.

You thought you were fighting yourself,

but you were fighting torment.

You thought you were wrestling your personality,

but you were wrestling triggers.

You thought you were dealing with weakness,

but you were dealing with wounds that never healed.

You thought you had a sin problem,

but you had an open door in your soul created by trauma.

Hear this clearly:

There is no shame in being wounded.

There is no shame in being affected.

There is no shame in surviving.

The shame belongs to the torment, not to you.

The Lord keeps drawing me back to this image:

a child with scraped knees, bleeding, crying, trembling.

And instead of running to that child,

instead of healing them,

instead of comforting them—

someone tells the child, “Get up. Stop crying. Act normal.”

The child tries.

But the wound is still open.

That’s what many of you have lived through—

being told to function when you were still bleeding inside.

And the Lord is saying:

“I am not the parent who ignored your wounds.

I am not the voice that dismissed your pain.

I am the One who binds up the brokenhearted.

I am the One who restores the soul.

I am the One who goes back into the memory and removes the sting.

I am the One who sees you fully, and loves you completely.”

So many of God’s children walk around with the conclusion,

“There must be something wrong with me.”

But the real truth is this:

Something happened to you that never received healing.

And that wound became a door.

And that door became an entry point.

And the enemy moved into a place where only God was meant to dwell.

But torment ends where truth begins.

Let me speak some truth into you:

You are not too emotional.

You are not too reactive.

You are not too much.

You are not too complicated.

You are not too fragile.

You are not too wounded for God to heal.

You are simply carrying pain that never had a chance to be processed safely.

And you cannot heal what you hide from.

You cannot cast out what you misdiagnose.

You cannot overcome what you internalize as “just part of who I am.”

But here’s the beauty of this moment:

God is not revealing your wounds to expose you.

He’s revealing them to free you.

And the Lord is whispering again:

“This is not your identity.

This is not your destiny.

This is not your future.

This is not who you are.

You are mine, and I am restoring you.”

Trauma taught you fear.

But Jesus teaches you safety.

Trauma taught you shame.

But Jesus teaches you worth.

Trauma taught you to shut down.

But Jesus teaches you to breathe again.

Trauma taught you silence.

But Jesus teaches you to speak again.

Trauma taught you to brace for impact.

But Jesus teaches you to rest in His arms.

Trauma taught you to expect abandonment.

But Jesus teaches you covenant.

This is the beginning of deliverance.

Not in casting something out first—

but in telling the truth about what happened to you.

Because the truth doesn’t just set you free—

it exposes what has been holding you captive.

I need you to hear this with the ears of your spirit:

You did not become this way through failure.

You became this way through survival.

And the God who saw you survive

is now here to heal you.

Now, as we move into Section Two, the tone will shift—

from revelation to deliverance,

from exposing wounds to breaking torment,

from gentle healing to holy confrontation.

Because the Lord is not only healing your trauma—

He is evicting the torment that attached itself to it.

This is where the chains breaks.

When the Lord reveals trauma, He never stops at revelation. Revelation is the doorway — deliverance is the destination. He uncovers wounds so He can heal them. He exposes torment so He can cast it out. He shines light on the lies so He can replace them with truth.

If Section One was the gentle hand of the Father brushing the hair away from your face and saying, “I see your pain,” then this is the moment He steps between you and the torment that has harassed you for years and says with fire in His voice, “Enough.”

Because God is not only a healer —

He is a Deliverer.

And while He tends to your wounds with the tenderness of a Father,

He confronts your torment with the authority of a King.

There comes a moment in every believer’s life when God stops whispering over the wound and starts roaring over the darkness that took advantage of it. A moment when the Great Shepherd shifts His posture — from gentle comfort to fierce protection.

And I sense that shift even as I write this.

It is as though the Spirit of the Lord is standing behind you right now, placing His hand on your shoulder, and stepping between you and the trauma that tried to steal your future.

Because the Lord is not merely healing what happened to you —

He is reclaiming what torment stole from you.

You see, trauma shaped your emotions, but torment weaponized them against you. Trauma wounded your heart, but torment tried to infect your identity. Trauma fractured your trust, but torment tried to keep you in isolation. Trauma shook your sense of safety, but torment tried to convince you that danger was always near. Trauma broke your sense of worth, but torment kept telling you that you were the problem.

But I hear the Lord speaking with power:

“I am breaking the cycle.

I am healing the wound.

I am silencing the torment.

I am restoring the years.

The trauma ends here.

The torment ends now.”

You need to understand something about deliverance.

Demonic torment does not attach randomly.

It attaches legally.

It attaches where there is injury, fear, abandonment, shame, or violation.

It attaches where trauma left a door open.

But the same Jesus who said, “Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,” is also the Jesus who said to demons, “Go,” and they went.

He comforts the wounded.

He confronts the tormentors.

It’s the same Jesus.

It’s the same authority.

It’s the same heart.

The tenderness doesn’t contradict the power — the tenderness explains it.

Because He loves you, He will not tolerate torment in you.

Because He heals you, He will not allow darkness to occupy your soul.

Because He restores you, He will not allow the past to define your present.

Deliverance is not God being harsh with you.

Deliverance is God being harsh with what tried to destroy you.

And I feel the Lord saying:

“I am not at war with you.

I am at war with what wounds you.”

Let that settle in your spirit.

God is not fighting you.

God is fighting for you.

The torment that made you feel unworthy —

He is breaking it.

The torment that made you fear abandonment —

He is dismantling it.

The torment that whispered “You’re not enough” —

He is silencing it.

The torment that stirred anxiety in your chest —

He is casting it out.

The torment that made your heart race, your hands shake, your thoughts spiral —

He is removing its influence.

The torment that made love feel dangerous —

He is uprooting it.

The torment that made vulnerability feel like a threat —

He is healing the memory behind it.

Because Jesus doesn’t just heal symptoms —

He heals the source.

He doesn’t just wipe away tears —

He removes the reason they fall.

And right now, there is a holy confrontation taking place inside you.

Even as you read, the Spirit of God is stirring things to the surface.

The emotions that feel sudden are not random.

The memories that flicker in your mind are not interruptions.

The heaviness you feel is not weakness — it’s the presence of God putting pressure on the torment.

The very fact that you feel something moving in your soul is the evidence that God is touching something deep. The darkness that once hid in the cracks of your pain is being forced into the light.

You may feel warmth in your chest…

or a heaviness lifting…

or tears coming suddenly…

or a tremble inside your body…

or memories surfacing you haven’t thought about for years…

This is not coincidence.

This is deliverance beginning.

Trauma is being acknowledged.

Torment is being confronted.

Your story is being rewritten.

And I hear the Lord say:

“I am not afraid of your darkness.

I am not intimidated by your pain.

I am not repelled by your past.

I am entering the place where the trauma first entered you.”

This is where deliverance gets personal.

Not loud, not theatrical, not staged —

personal.

God goes to the memory.

God goes to the moment.

God goes to the wound.

God goes to the silence.

God goes to the place where no one defended you.

God goes to the place where you cried alone.

God goes to the place where you were overwhelmed.

God goes to the moment your heart cracked.

And He stands there —

not as a distant observer,

but as a Deliverer.

He speaks into the memory,

and His voice rewrites the narrative.

He speaks into the pain,

and His love dissolves the torment.

He speaks into the lie,

and truth uproots the deception.

The trauma itself is not erased,

but the spiritual sting behind it is removed.

You will remember what happened,

but you will no longer relive what happened.

You will recall the moment,

but you will not feel its power.

You will know the story,

but it will no longer control your reactions.

You will carry the memory,

but not the torment attached to it.

Because Jesus does not erase your history —

He redeems it.

And now the Lord shifts His tone from tenderness to authority:

“Spirit of fear,

I break your hold.

Spirit of rejection,

your assignment ends.

Spirit of shame,

you are exposed.

Spirit of torment,

let them go.

Spirit of abandonment,

come out of the shadows.

Spirit of confusion,

release your grip.

Spirit of self-hatred,

I silence your lies.”

He names the spirits that hide behind trauma

because He wants them ejected from your inner world.

And as He speaks with authority,

your spirit knows it is true.

Your soul knows it is time.

Your body knows it is safe.

Your heart knows you are ready.

This is the moment everything begins to shift.

Some people think deliverance is shouting at demons —

but real deliverance is God speaking into your wound

and darkness losing its place to hide.

You’re going to feel different after this.

You’re going to breathe deeper.

You’re going to think clearer.

You’re going to sleep better.

You’re going to respond instead of react.

You’re going to trust without fear.

You’re going to love without panic.

You’re going to feel emotions without drowning in them.

You’re going to walk into rooms without the sense of danger.

You’re going to see yourself through God’s eyes.

Because when torment leaves,

peace returns.

When trauma is healed,

identity rises.

When lies are broken,

truth settles like a warm blanket over your soul.

And the Lord says:

“Your nervous system will calm.

Your heart will soften.

Your mind will clear.

Your spirit will rise.

Your past will lose its power.

What once triggered you will no longer shake you.

I am restoring you.”

The Lord is now dealing not just with the torment,

but with the beliefs that torment created:

The belief that you are unworthy.

The belief that you are alone.

The belief that love is earned.

The belief that you are too much.

The belief that you are not enough.

The belief that everyone leaves.

The belief that God is disappointed in you.

The belief that you will be rejected.

The belief that something is wrong with you.

And into all of these, the Lord speaks:

“None of these are true.

These lies entered through trauma,

but I am removing them one by one.”

There will be a moment—you may not even notice it—

when you catch yourself thinking differently.

When fear no longer spikes.

When shame no longer whispers.

When anxiety no longer steals your breath.

When memories no longer overpower your present.

And it will feel natural, not forced.

Effortless, not strained.

Peaceful, not pressured.

Because healing isn’t something you strive for —

it’s something God does in you

when torment loses its permission to stay.

Let me tell you something important:

you are going to feel lighter.

Not because you forced yourself to “get over it,”

but because the weight you carried was spiritual,

and God just lifted it.

You are going to feel more yourself.

Not because you reinvented yourself,

but because torment was masking the real you.

You are going to feel more whole.

Not because you became perfect,

but because the broken pieces are no longer being touched by darkness.

And I hear the Lord declare with joy:

“You will not live your life in survival mode.

You will not build your future on trauma.

You will not repeat the patterns you grew up with.

You will not pass on the wounds you carried.

You will not fear love.

You will not push away what is good.

You will not sabotage your own blessings.

You will not live waiting for rejection.

You will not brace for the worst.

You are being made new.”

The Lord is not asking you to forget what happened.

He is freeing you from the emotional and spiritual reaction to what happened.

He doesn’t erase your story —

He removes the torment.

He doesn’t pretend you weren’t wounded —

He heals the wound.

He doesn’t ignore the trauma —

He walks into the moment it happened

and rewrites it with His presence.

This is deliverance.

This is healing.

This is restoration.

This is the gentle and fierce love of God working together in perfect unity.

You’re not broken.

You’re being rebuilt.

You’re not damaged.

You’re being restored.

You’re not unstable.

You’re being re-grounded.

You’re not weak.

You’re becoming stronger.

You’re not too emotional.

Your emotions are being healed.

You’re not too much.

You were always more than enough.

You’re not unworthy.

You are deeply, fiercely loved.

And the Lord says:

“Torment was never meant to define you.

Your trauma was never meant to live in you.

Your past was never meant to own you.

I am making all things new.”

As this deliverance rests on you,

as this truth settles deeper,

as the Spirit of God continues to minister to you,

I believe something sacred is happening right now.

You are being unstuck.

Unstuck from memories.

Unstuck from patterns.

Unstuck from lies.

Unstuck from shame.

Unstuck from fear.

Unstuck from abandonment.

Unstuck from survival mode.

Unstuck from torment.

And what emerges is the person you were always meant to be —

the healed, whole, confident, peaceful, powerful you.

You’re not broken.

You’re becoming free.

You’re not tormented.

You’re being delivered.

You’re not unstable.

You’re being healed.

You’re not a prisoner.

You’re being restored.

You’re stepping into a season where you no longer relate to yourself through the lens of trauma.

You’re stepping into a season where your reactions match your reality, not your history.

You’re stepping into a season where your heart is open, not guarded.

You’re stepping into a season where your soul is quiet, not frantic.

You’re stepping into a season where love is possible, not dangerous.

You’re stepping into a season where peace feels normal, not foreign.

And the Lord is finishing this prophetic word with one final declaration —

a declaration that reverberates through your spirit

like thunder wrapped in love:

“You are not broken.

You are Mine.

And I am making you whole.”

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