I was moaning to my husband as we drove the other day.
I had just run into another layer of healing—a deep “sub-system” full of traumatic memories and broken pieces of my story—and honestly, I was discouraged.
It felt like I had been running with joy, freedom, and lightness. Finally, I could breathe. Finally, I was moving forward. But what I hadn’t realized was that there was still a cable tied to me, connected to a massive 2,000-pound weight.
The cable had plenty of slack, so I never felt the drag. I could run five miles a day without sensing anything holding me back.
Until one day, the slack ran out.
I came to a screeching halt. I tripped, landed hard, and the weight came crashing into me. Suddenly, marathons turned into a crawl. Progress slowed to inches of forward movement—and even those inches felt painfully monumental.
Learning to Accept the Crawl
I wanted to run again. I hated the pain of slowing down. I despised the weakness I felt. My flesh wanted to push, press, and “fast forward.” I wanted to be normal again.
But in that tension, the Lord gently reminded me of something. A scripture surfaced in my heart: the verses about patience producing character.
I looked them up in the Amplified Bible, Classic Edition, and what I found stopped me in my tracks:
Romans 5:3–5 (AMPC):
“Moreover [let us also be full of joy now!] let us exult and triumph in our troubles and rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that pressure and affliction and hardship produce patient and unswerving endurance. And endurance (fortitude) develops maturity of character (approved faith and tried integrity). And character produces joyful and confident hope of eternal salvation. Such hope never disappoints or deludes or shames us, for God’s love has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit Who has been given to us.”
The Crushing and the Wine
As I dug deeper into the word pressure, one definition stood out:
“The act of squeezing or crushing. Wine is obtained by the pressure of grapes.”
That’s when it hit me—the pain of this season isn’t wasted. It’s not random. This is the pressing that produces the oil. This is the crushing that releases the wine.
Suddenly, what I had seen as punishment or setback became clear: it’s a refining. It’s a deep work of transformation where God develops patience, character, integrity, and maturity within me.
This isn’t a “bad season” to endure impatiently; it’s an invitation to lean into the Spirit’s work.
Where Weakness Meets His Strength
In my brokenness, weakness, and slow crawl forward, I have found myself drawing closer to Jesus than ever before. The crushing has forced me into His presence in ways I can’t even fully describe.
Here, I experience His heart for me.
Here, I encounter His love as more than theology—it becomes experience.
Here, I learn my identity is not who the enemy said I was, but who God has always known me to be.
Even while my flesh resists the pain and longs for escape, my spirit has never been so alive.
And just as Romans reminds us, “Such hope never disappoints or deludes or shames us, for God’s love has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit Who has been given to us” (Romans 5:5 AMPC).
Hope That Never Fails
This is the truth I am holding to:
- The crushing is producing the wine.
- The squeezing is releasing the oil.
- The crawling is not wasted; it is maturity being built in me.
Hope is not delusional. It is not a “pretend” escape from pain. Hope is solid. It is unshakeable.
Even if today looks like a slow and painful crawl, it is not the end of my story. Healing is happening. Character is growing. God’s faithful love is being poured out in every tear, every prayer, every inch forward.
And that hope—anchored in the Word and in the Spirit—will not disappoint.