What if being “poor” is the starting place for healing?

“And all the crowd sought to touch him, for power came out from him and healed them all. And he lifted up his eyes on his disciples, and said” “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours in the kingdom of God.” -Luke 6:19-20

I don’t know about you, but I’ve never liked the feeling of “not enough.”

I grew up that way—maybe not by global standards, but certainly by the world around me. I remember trying so hard to belong… to fit in… to feel worthy. We didn’t have much, and in my young heart, that lack translated into shame. While other girls on my cheer team packed for camp, I quietly prayed my parents could cover just the cost of my uniform.

I even told my friends we were “wealthy” but simply chose to live below our means. Looking back now, I see a tender girl doing her best to hold on to a sense of dignity in a world that equated worth with status, and love with performance. Especially when real love—the kind I craved most—was missing from the one place it should’ve been safest: my mother’s arms.

For a long time, I thought being poor meant failure. A lack of resources. A life that was behind, or less-than.

But everything changed when I had an encounter with Jesus—on what truly felt like my deathbed.

It was in that dark place of total helplessness that I finally began to understand what Jesus meant when He said, “Blessed are the poor.” We hear it in Luke 6 and again in Matthew 5, where Jesus flips the world’s idea of wealth and success upside down.

He’s not talking about financial poverty. He’s talking about dependence. Surrender. A soul that knows it needs Him, whether in abundance or in lack.

And here in the Western world, that’s not easy, is it?

We’re surrounded by messages that tell us to hustle harder, be more, rise above, and prove ourselves. Even in Christian circles, it can feel like we need to “have it all together” to be worthy or accepted.

But Jesus is after something far more sacred: our hearts.

The kind that know how desperately we need Him. The kind that know we can’t be healthy, healed, or whole on our own. That real strength isn’t about hiding our need—it’s about bringing it fully to Him.

If I’m honest, I still have moments where I forget to thank Him after He answers a prayer. I still wrestle with pride, insecurity, and the ache of old wounds. I’ve been stepped on, overlooked, and dismissed by others chasing status or survival—just as I once did, trying to escape the feeling of not being “enough.”

But now? I see the beauty in being poor.

Not the material kind, but the kind that brings me back to Jesus again and again.

Back to the only One who defines what rich and poor really mean.
Back to the One who sets the true value of my life and soul.
Back to the One who tells me—you always belong with Me.

And friend, the same is true for you.

Psalm 34:18 reminds us that “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” He doesn’t shame us for being poor in spirit. He draws near.

Needing God deeply isn’t weakness—it’s the doorway to connection, healing, and freedom.

So I’ll ask you gently:
In a world that tells you to be strong and self-sufficient…
Are you willing to be poor?

Because sometimes, that’s the richest place we can begin.

“When you’re the mom breaking generational cycles”

The other day, I was at lunch with some friends from my Bible study, talking about what it’s like to raise teenage girls in today’s world. I have a 13-year-old daughter, and let me tell you, nothing humbles you faster. Gone are the days when I thought, “My child would never…” I’ve learned quickly not to judge any parent for the challenges they face.

As we laughed and reflected on what God was showing us in our study, a text came through from one of the moms in our daughter’s friend group. It simply read:
“Can we talk today, mom to mom?”
Instantly, my heart sank and my stomach dropped. Like the slow, dreadful climb of a roller coaster you wish you hadn’t gotten on.

This school year hasn’t been easy. Watching my sweet girl navigate complicated friendships and make a few poor choices has stirred up all kinds of self-doubt in me. The kind that whispers, “You’re failing. You’re not equipped for this.”

And honestly? That voice isn’t new. It’s echoed in my heart for as long as I can remember.

I grew up with two emotionally immature parents who were unable to offer the kind of love and presence I desperately needed. My feelings were rarely acknowledged, let alone valued. Grace was unfamiliar. Emotional safety didn’t exist. When I was sad, I was told to get over it. When I was overwhelmed, I was brushed off as being too sensitive.

My mother, (who I now see was likely never shown how to process her own emotions), couldn't hold space for mine either. And so, I learned to silence my heart. To hide my needs. To perform for love and approval. I adapted, not because I was weak, but because my nervous system was trying to protect me in the only ways it knew how.

But those survival strategies? They come at a cost.

As I got older, they turned into people-pleasing, perfectionism, anxiety, and a deep sense of not being enough. And when I became a mom myself, the pain of what I didn’t have growing up came into sharp focus—especially watching others receive the kind of support I longed for.

I remember seeing friends’ moms swoop in with encouragement, helping hands, and warm presence:

• “Let me watch the kids so you and your husband can get away.”

• “I’ll bring dinner over tonight.”

• “You’re doing such a good job. I’m proud of you.”

I grieved that I didn’t have that kind of mother.
And I resolved to be different for my own children.

But here’s what I’ve learned: healing isn’t just about doing better. It’s about becoming different—rewiring what’s been wired into us from the beginning.

Our attachment patterns, our sense of safety and belonging—they’re formed early, long before we have conscious memories. And when those early years are marked by emotional neglect or abuse, it leaves deep imprints on the heart.

That’s why healing takes more than good intentions.
It requires support. Insight. Surrender.
And for me, it required Jesus.

I've spent years on this journey. I’ve tried many forms of healing like talk therapy, EMDR, reading, journaling, praying. But the deepest transformation came through combining God’s Word with Christ-centered life coaching. That’s where the shift happened. Where I started to feel less like I was patching myself together… and more like I was being renewed.

God has used all of it; every pain, every tear, every unanswered “why”, to draw me closer to Him and lead me into a calling I never expected.

Today, I’m honored to serve as a Certified Christian Life Coach, walking with other women who feel like they’re carrying the weight of generations on their shoulders. Women who are exhausted from pretending, aching to be seen, and hungry for healing that goes deeper than self-help or performance.

I believe God’s truth sets us free. And in my coaching practice, I help women understand their past through the lens of both Scripture and sound psychology. So they can live with peace, confidence, and joy rooted in Christ.

If you’re longing to break cycles and build something new—not just for yourself, but for your children and your future—I want you to know: you’re not alone.

You are not too far gone.
You are not too sensitive.
You are not too much.
You are seen. Loved. And held by a God who wants to heal the deepest places in you.

I’d love to journey with you.
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With love and grace,
Lynsie