I was recently working through the John Eldredge series on the Pause App — Experience Jesus Really. It’s a Bible study but also includes morning and evening prayers for 30 days.
It’s a beautiful experience to walk through, and I highly recommend it.
During the final week, the focus is on healing — specifically, our youth — those young parts of us still holding onto hurts or pains, the areas that need the healing touch of the Holy Spirit. Without that healing, we stay stuck there. It holds back our maturity.
As I was doing the second day’s prayer, John asked about a memory from your youth that instantly comes to mind. Maybe it’s traumatic, maybe not — but what is that one memory etched in your mind? A snapshot so perfectly captured that you can describe everything — where you were, what you were doing, the weather, who was there, what you heard, even the time of day. We all have those memories frozen in time. You can describe every detail.
I instantly recalled mine. It wasn’t traumatic, but it was vivid — still so clear after forty years. A seemingly small moment, yet perfectly etched, or rather seared, in my mind. Why this moment? Why does it come up first? It wasn’t a big deal, so why is it important?
I knew I needed to invite Jesus in — to welcome Him into that scene. To ask, What do I need to see? Why does this come up? Why is this snapshot stuck? I needed His insight because I couldn’t see it clearly, and I wanted to release it.
The Memory That Wouldn’t Let Go
It was a sunny midweek afternoon. My mom, dad, and I were sitting in the baseball stands at Dobyns-Bennett High School in Kingsport, Tennessee. I was in fifth grade, eleven years old. We sat behind home plate, a little to the left, about a third of the way up the stands, watching my brother play ball — I think. (That’s the only part that’s a bit fuzzy.)
My mom and I had walked across the street to Wendy’s to get food. I was sitting on the bleacher in front of my parents. When we got back, we started eating, and my dad took my burger. He hadn’t wanted one, so we didn’t order it — but when we returned, he took mine and ate it 🍔.
That’s the memory. Not traumatic. Not great. And I’ve had far worse memories. So why this one?
Inviting Jesus Into the Scene
The next morning, during the Experience Jesus Really prayer, I invited Jesus in again. Part of that prayer is to welcome your younger self into your life now — to be encouraging and supportive to your inner child. So I did.
As I sat in silence within that memory, asking Jesus to help me see, suddenly I did. It wasn’t audible, but it might as well have been:
“He took from you.”
My dad took from me… And it wasn’t just my burger. It was a sudden awareness that he took my childhood joys, my freedom, my family — he took from me.
I couldn’t be “me” because I was always walking on eggshells, trying not to turn over the turnip truck or step on a landmine. He took my freedom, even as an adult. He took joys from my childhood. Yes, there were happy times — absolutely — but it was also incredibly oppressive.
“He took from me.” Those words echoed loudly in my head. Tears streamed down my face as I sat there, understanding now why that memory was frozen in me.
Seeing Through Adult Eyes
Now, fifty-one-year-old Becky is sitting in the stands, seeing this moment with adult eyes. As I sit there, Jesus walks up and reaches out both hands for me to take. I hesitate. I look around, then back at Him. I reach out and take His hands, but I don’t stand yet.
He says, Let’s go play.
Let’s go be a child again. Carefree. Joyful. Happy. Free.
So I stand up and leave that memory — free.
“Let’s Go Play”
Why would Jesus say, Let’s go play? Because that’s what children do when they’re safe and loved. And that’s who I am again — free to play.
I remind eleven-year-old Becky that Jesus, our Heavenly Father, loves us. He has provided for us and will continue to lavish His love on us. He redeemed us from the pit and has generously given to us all our lives.
The Freedom That Follows
I left that memory lighthearted and free — deeply grateful to have experienced the pain because it led me to experience Jesus. I still have the memory, but it’s different now. It can come and go instead of being stuck in that moment.
I know this may sound a little crazy, especially if you’ve never experienced anything like it — but it’s real.
The Holy Spirit is real and is moving. But I had to seek. I needed that desire for something deeper in my walk. My “holy discontent” that started in early 2024 awakened me to a life and faith I never dreamed possible.
Yes, I’ve had to go deep — to dig up roots that run far beneath the surface — but in those hard and painful places, I’m not alone.
From the Porch 🍃
If I’ve learned anything through this, it’s that healing doesn’t happen by accident. You have to want it — to invite Jesus into the places you’ve avoided, the memories you’ve buried, the parts of yourself you’ve quietly dismissed as “just the way it is.”
Those are often the very places He’s waiting to meet you.
When you stop trying to hold it all together and simply say, “Jesus, show me what I need to see,” that’s when freedom begins. Not always instantly, but slowly — tenderly — as He brings beauty from the ashes.
So maybe today, find a quiet space and ask Him to walk with you back into one of those memories. You might be surprised what He’s been waiting to heal.