The strongest thing a woman can do is to let herself be carried to Jesus by her sisters. 

Do me a favor and read that first sentence again, slowly. Let it sit with you for a moment. About a month ago, God brought that very truth to my mind, and I literally drew in my breath. I couldn’t stop circling back to it. Strength and being carried feel like opposites, don’t they? But the Holy Spirit kept whispering: you show real strength and courage the moment you allow yourself to be carried… the moment you allow yourself to be vulnerable.

I’m an introvert, and solitude feels entirely comfortable. I can easily slip into isolation and believe it to be critical for “spiritual growth.” And to a point, it helps. Self-reflection helps me notice that something is off. But I’ve learned that I usually need community to helps me name what’s off. Otherwise, I stay stuck inside the echo chamber of my own head. My narratives loop. My conclusions harden. And I walk around with half-answered questions that never quite land.

In the Spirit-filled company of safe sisters, something different happens. I’m invited to put words to the swirl inside. As I speak, the fog begins to thin. They ask questions, reflect back what they hear, and gently reframe. Things that were tangled start to separate. Clarity comes because God’s presence is in the room.

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?”   Jeremiah 17:9

God used Jeremiah’s words to remind me that this isn’t a shaming diagnosis.  It’s a loving warning. I have blind spots, especially when I try to go it alone. If my growth depends only on my own insight, I will always plateau right at the edge of what I can see. My inner storyteller might be eloquent, but she is not a reliable theologian.

I tend to carry my issues by myself because I’m convinced I’m the only one who truly understands them. Underneath that is a quieter fear: If I don’t hold everything together myself, I will fall apart.

But here is the truth I’m slowly learning.  Falling apart in safe company is not my undoing.  It may be the doorway to my breakthrough.  Letting myself be carried by God, and sometimes by His people, is not weakness. It is a holy, trembling kind of strength.

Lord, let my unraveling in safe hands become the beginning of my healing.  Amen