Learning What Was Mine
I didn’t immediately run back to church. But slowly quietly, I was letting myself grow closer to God.
At the time, I didn’t have the words for what was happening. I only knew that something in me was beginning to soften, not all at once, not boldly. Just enough to notice that some of the things I believed weren’t actually mine.
The easiest example to explain is flowers.
For years, I said I didn’t enjoy receiving them. I said it casually, confidently, as if it were simply a preference. But the truth was more complicated. I was secretly disappointed that I never received flowers, and even more quietly, I was the reason I didn’t.
As a young girl, my dad would show up with flowers unexpectedly. No holiday. No apology. Just beauty, offered freely. My favorite was a rose he had grown so late in the season it almost felt like a miracle that it bloomed at all.
But somewhere along the way, I had been instructed to say I didn’t need flowers. And while that may have been true, I didn’t need them, those words stayed with me longer than they should have. They became a script I repeated, even when it no longer matched my heart.
That realization stopped me.
If I loved flowers, but had been the voice that kept them away…. what else was I carrying that wasn’t my own truth?
I began to see that I hadn’t only copied words, I had copied beliefs. About relationships, about God….and about who I was allowed to be. My understanding of who He was had been shaped more by other people’s fear, judgement, and limitations than by Scripture itself.
I would pray for others willingly. I believed in the power of prayer. But when it came to my own life, I was careful.
I only asked certain people to pray for me. And even then, I kept my prayers narrow.
I wasn’t praying boldy for my own healing, direction, or future. Somewhere deep down, I believed God might not want to hear from me directly, that if people were quick to condemn me, maybe He would too.
If people were already using His word to condemn me, what hope did I have?
Looking back now, I see that this was not rebellion. It was caution. It was survival. It was carrying beliefs that once protected me, but were no longer telling the truth.
It would still be a few hurdles later, and some gentle invitations, before I was ready to attend church. And if I’m honest, I can see now that I should have run there at the first sign of trouble.
But at the time, I was confident I could handle it all by myself.
And God, patiently, began showing me where my words, and my faith, were borrowed. And He was inviting me into something real.
📖Scripture Reading
Romans 8:1 (ASV)
There is therefore now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus.
Scripture Summary
Romans 8:1 speaks directly to the fear that God might condemn us the way people sometimes do.
This verse doesn’t argue. It doesn’t erase away pain. It simply states the truth: condemnation is not God’s voice.
Where scripture had been used to accuse, Paul reminds us of its original purpose, to free. God does not withhold Himself from those who are struggling, questioning, or healing. His grace is not earned by getting everything right; it is given because of who He is.
What I believed disqualified me was never coming from God. And what felt like judgement was never the final word.
Grace was already there, waiting for me to stop bracing for condemnation and start receiving truth.
Why This Matters
Many people walk away from prayer not because they don’t believe in God, but because they believe He is disappointed in them.
When Scripture is used to condemn instead of restore, it can quietly convince us that silence is safer than honesty. We bring God our strengths, our gratitude, our concern for others-but hide our own needs, believing they might be unwelcome.
Romans 8:1 reminds us that condemnation is not the language God speaks to His children. His Word was never meant to drive us away, but to draw us closer.
When we confuse people’s misuse of Scripture with God’s heart, we risk carrying shame that was never ours to hold. Understanding this truth doesn’t just change how we see God-it changes how willing we are to come to Him fully, honestly, and without fear.
Grace doesn’t wait for us to be ready. It waits for us to come.
Reflection Questions
Have you ever avoided praying for yourself because you felt unworthy, unsure, or afraid of God’s response?
Where did your understanding of God’s voice come from-Scripture itself, or the way others used Scripture toward you?
Are there areas of your life you still hesitate to bring to God directly?
What might change if you believed that condemnation is not how God speaks to you?
Where do you sense God inviting you to come closer, not clearer?
Why This Matters
What we believe about God shapes how we approach Him.
If we believe His Word is primarily a measuring stick, we will edit ourselves before we ever speak. And if we believe we must be “worthy” before coming to Him, we may never come at all.
These beliefs don’t usually form overnight. They are often leaned, through relationships, experiences, or moments were Scripture was used without grace. Over time, they can quietly teach us to carry our own struggles alone.
Understanding that condemnation is not God’s voice changes everything. It invites honesty instead of hiding. Relationship instead of performance. Prayer that is real, not careful.
This matters because healing doesn’t begin when we get everything right-it begins when we stop believing we are disqualified from coming close.
Grace isn’t something we earn on our way back into. It’s something we were never meant to live without.
Closing Prayer
God,
I come to You with the places in me that learned to be careful. The parts that stayed quiet out of fear. The prayers I held back because I wasn’t sure they were welcome.
Where condemnation shaped my understanding of You, replace it with truth. Help me separate Your voice from the voices that wounded me. Teach me to believe that Your Word is meant to heal, not harm.
Give me courage to pray honestly, not just for others, but for myself. To bring You my needs, my questions, and my hopes for the futute.
Thank You for meeting me with grace instead of judgement.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
