When Crushing Becomes Revelation

A meditation based on Isaiah 53:5 (TPT)

If our Father allowed His Son to be wounded for our healing, then perhaps He allows us to be wounded so His restoration can flow through us to others.

As I meditated on Isaiah 53:5, something vivid and unmistakable came back to me. I remembered exactly where I was when God spoke to me about my marriage. His words were clear: “Your marriage will glorify Me.”

Eighteen, nineteen years later, standing in the rubble of divorce, those very words broke me. Not just broken—crushed.

I’ve known pain before. I’ve known wounding. But this was deeper, sharper, shaking everything I believed—my ability to discern God’s voice, my identity, my calling. It was wave after wave of loss: personal, private, public. Followed by a car accident that forced me into a summer of physical therapy and stillness.

And unlike the first time—when I heard His voice so clearly—I heard nothing. Nothing but defeat. Nothing but accusations. Nothing but mockery—

and the echoes of pain, confusion, and the enemy’s lies replaying like a broken record in my head.

As has often been my pattern in extreme pain, I withdrew. Not just from others—but from Him.

And still… He pierced the darkness.

Not through a burning bush.

Not through a prophetic word.

Not through someone else’s voice.

But through a simple reflection by Max Lucado on the road to Emmaus.

Two men walking away from Jerusalem, grieving, confused, unsure. Jesus joined them, but they didn’t recognize Him until the breaking of the bread. Only then did everything make sense. Only then did they realize their hearts had been burning the whole time.

In that moment, something clicked in me too.

I accepted—received—believed—that I was His disciple.

Not even the stripping of my roles or titles could change that.

He was with me in the crushing, just as He was with me the moment He spoke the promise: “Your marriage will glorify Me.”

Beloveds, if you find yourself in a season of crushing, hear me:

Unlike Christ on the cross, you do not lose connection with the Father, because Jesus lives. His presence does not leave—not in the valley, not in the silence.

I pray for every heart walking through the valley of crushing.

I pray for those on their road to Emmaus, looking for meaning in the shattered pieces.

In Jesus’ name, I declare:

mocking voices silenced, confusion lifted, darkness broken.

I pray you recognize the table He has set for you, even now.

I pray your spiritual eyes open as you take the bread He offers.

And I pray the fragmented pieces of your heart begin to come together—healed, restored, whole.

In His overwhelming love,

Amen.