Hidden No More: My Spiritual Awakening

Hidden No More: My Spiritual Awakening

For years, I lived by my own will. I did things my way—chasing life on my terms. But unlike most, my path carried heartbreak that many couldn’t bear.

At just 23, divorced and raising a child alone, I faced the shadow of abandonment. Family offered little support. Instead, they pushed me to give up my son—just as I had been given up. But I knew: his story would not be a mirror of mine.

So I held on. Through dark nights and silent tears, a voice within carried me—steady and tender. I didn’t know it then, but it was the Lord whispering strength into the places no one else could reach.

In my 30s, I married again. Pregnant with my second child, I found myself facing a different storm: addiction, abuse, betrayal. He went to prison and died of cancer, but before he left this world, something miraculous happened—he accepted Jesus as his Savior. And even in the pain of that chapter, God revealed His mercy.

Now alone again, raising two children seven years apart, I pressed forward. Struggling. But surviving.

Then came love—or what I thought was love. Eighteen years spent devoted to one man, only to discover a truth that shattered me completely: he had been married the whole time.

My heart broke like glass. My spirit recoiled in horror. My body bore the scars of despair.

But God met me in the ruin.

I found me in the process, yes. But more profoundly—I found Him. Not in a church. Not through religion. But in the stillness after the storm.

Jesus saved me not just from sin—but from myself. From loneliness. From performance. From deception. And now? I am more alive than I have ever been.

The Moment of Awakening

Throughout my life, pain visited often. Loss carved out deep chambers in my heart. My parents passed—but the history we shared wasn’t gentle. It left echoes, not warmth. And still, as grief settled around me, something deeper stirred.

My health declined. My liver swelled beyond safety. Specialists and prescriptions were the world’s answer. But I didn’t go to the world. I went to God.

Yes—you read that right. God Himself.

With all the beauty in this world, how could I deny His existence? Even in the ache, I could feel Him just beyond the veil.

So I prayed. Repented. Wept. Night after night, begging not just for healing—but comfort. I wasn’t asking for perfection. I just wanted one peaceful night of sleep.

Then—He came.

A hand brushed my cheek. A whisper I couldn’t make out softened my spirit. A presence I couldn’t name; touched the crown of my head. And heat surged through my body, all the way to my toes.

It was divine. Intimate. Unexplainable.

The next morning, I woke whole. No pain. No swelling. I could sneeze. Laugh. Walk. Run.

Not one issue since.

No one can convince me it wasn’t God—because I met Him in that room. I know it in the deepest place. Jehovah Rapha—the Lord who heals—touched me.

📖 “He sent His word and healed them, and delivered them from their destructions.” — Psalm 107:20 📖 “Bless the Lord, O my soul… who heals all your diseases.” — Psalm 103:2–3

And yet… after that miracle, I still strayed. I chose a path away from Him. Not because He wasn’t faithful—but because I wasn’t ready.

But He never stopped calling.

The Unveiling Process — From Broken to Awakened

Though I stayed distant, though I wandered and delayed… I was never alone. Something in me always knew He hadn’t let go. But it wasn’t until my entire being—heart, soul, body, and spirit—shattered that I truly began to see.

It’s sad, but it’s true. It took a divine disruption to awaken me. Pain has a way of peeling back everything we use to protect ourselves. And in the ruins, God met me—not with rebuke, but with restoration.

📖 “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

My children—now older—witnessed the shift. They saw the woman who once wore wounds like armor now wear faith like fire. And even now, in this very moment… the transformation continues.

Because awakening isn’t a single event—it’s a surrendered life. It happens when we finally release our grip. When we lay down every expectation, every performance, every fear… and say, “God, have all of me.”

📖 “Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed…” — John 12:24

I wasn’t perfect. I was broken. But that’s exactly where He met me. Every tear carried purpose. Every ache was altar. And still—I surged forward.

Because once you’ve tasted awakening, there’s no going back to sleep.

The Sacred Surrender

I am not highly educated. I don’t hold status or accolades. I am a woman surrendered to God in every faucet of my life— From my thoughts, to my emotions, to my daily walk, and to the words I pen here.

I am a spec in a world of chaos. But I am seen. I am known. And I am not forgotten.

📖 “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you…” — Jeremiah 1:5 📖 “You are precious and honored in my sight…” — Isaiah 43:4

We don’t control our experiences— but we do have a choice: To surrender what we can’t change, To rise above what we shouldn’t entertain, To steward our inner world, because even that matters to God.

My thoughts aren’t invalid. My emotions aren’t unimportant. They matter to the Father—perhaps even more than they ever did to man.

Because while man sees the outer form, God sees the heart. The shattered, surrendered, searching heart. And He calls it beautiful.

📖 “The Lord does not look at the things people look at… the Lord looks at the heart.” — 1 Samuel 16:7

So I write. Not to be known—but to make Him known. And if my life has taught me anything, it’s this:

Awakening doesn’t require applause. It requires surrender.

Hidden No More

I lived by my will, ran through the fire, Chased life on my terms, dressed in desire. Heartbreak found me—young and alone, But I held my child like a seed I’d sown.

Abandoned once, pushed to repeat, But God’s whisper made my silence sweet. He brushed my cheek in the midnight haze, And healing surged through my body’s maze.

Addiction knocked, abuse took hold, But Jesus met my husband—tired, cold. Before his breath gave way to dust, He called out to mercy, to healing, to trust.

Then came deception wrapped in charm, Eighteen years in an unseen harm. But glass that shatters finds the light— And in my ruin, I found what’s right.

I met my Savior not in the pew, But in the silence, where truth was new. Not perfect, just a broken flame, Held by Love, not chased by shame.

My liver cried, my body screamed, But God stepped in—beyond the dream. A hand, a whisper, a holy heat, And death retreated in full defeat.

Still I wandered, still I stalled, But the Father never rescinded the call. It took a quake to wake me whole, Now surrender sings through all I hold.

I am not elite, I’m not renowned, But I am Heaven’s echo in this battleground. I am not invalid, not unseen— My life a canvas of the Nazarene.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3

Elizabeth