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We come to God asking why things aren't moving in our lives, but often the answer is simple: we are carrying too much weight. Just as my father once arrived at the airport with one empty suitcase while our family traveled with 20-25 pieces of luggage, so too do we travel through life weighted down by expectations, disappointments, trauma, and unprocessed events.
The longer we live, the more we accumulate. We become so accustomed to carrying our luggage that when someone suggests we might need to set it down, we look at them as if they're crazy. But here's the truth: the weights we carry distract us from our focus and create a bridge in our ability to reach our destination.
When we drag life's weight with us, we don't have enough capacity for the voice of God. The spirit speaks in the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit, not in the tumultuous things we're holding onto. Christ came as the ultimate disrupter of our baggage-carrying syndrome, and removing our weight is a choice we must make for ourselves.
For it is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. (Galatians 5:1)
The first baggage we encounter when we come to Christ—or after we've come to Christ—is the need to forgive ourselves. We must look in the mirror and say: "I am still redeemed by the Father. He still loves me. I'm not perfect, but I'm loved."
Two universal emotions hold us back: persistent shame and hiding. These are indicators that we're refusing to let go of baggage. We spend time in "shoulda, woulda, coulda"—caught in regret, refusing to forgive ourselves.
An addiction is not the core issue; it's a symptom. The core belief is: I am not enough the way God made me. When we attach something to our identity to hide from shame, we tell God that the way He created us is insufficient. We allow the enemy to make that thing our identity so the real us can continue hiding.
Many of us live performance-driven, people-pleasing lives. A stronghold is a pattern of wrong thinking that tells us the only way to receive love is to act out or be everything to everyone. Perhaps we were the jokester in the family, or we learned that we had to sacrifice even to our detriment to be accepted.
We're dying on the vine, thinking we're doing everything our family needs, not realizing we're holding onto baggage that needs to go. This pattern often comes from our family of origin—how we were raised, who was in the home with us during our formative years.
Suicidal ideation is the most sinister and self-harming issue. Those dealing with it speak from hopelessness: "I can't do this anymore. I'm not enough." But this reveals a lordship issue—we're telling God that we who didn't create ourselves and didn't bring ourselves into this world somehow have the right to be the Lord of our own life.
The Bible says we are made in God's image, intentionally created to look like Him, sound like Him. Our height, our voice, our color were deliberately placed on us by God. Who are we to tell our Creator years later that what He gave us freely is not enough?
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. Let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and now is seated in the place of honor beside God's throne. (Hebrews 12:1-2)
Jesus dealt with suicidal ideation, performance thoughts, people-pleasing, and every desire to attach addiction to our identity. On the cross of Calvary, as He died, these were released. They can no longer taunt us.
The word "lay aside" comes from the Greek word apotithēmi—a compound of "apo" (away) and "tithēmi" (to lay down). This means we are literally choosing to lay down and push away beyond reach all the issues we're facing. It's a deliberate decision to make a permanent change of attitude and behavior—not a 360-degree turn, but a 180-degree turn, going the opposite direction.
Paul, who wrote Hebrews, is familiar with shame and hiding. Do you know what Paul's first name was? Saul. Saul killed people. Saul was a murderer. But God changed his name because the murderer that was associated with Saul no longer existed. Paul says, "I have changed so much that God has changed my name."
Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. (1 Timothy 1:15-17)
Saul had to die for Paul to live. What he's saying is: accept the perfect work of Christ on the cross. The old ways, the old weights, the guilt, the shame—they're gone.
1. Recognize Your Emotional Cycles
Become self-aware of your pattern of behavior. When do you hide? What triggers your shame? When someone disappears and isn't responding to calls, they're dealing with something internally. Get to a point where you ask yourself: Am I dealing with shame right now? What has triggered this hiding? Why do I want to run away?
2. Do Not Underestimate the Pain You Feel
Do not take your pain and shove it to the side, saying "it's okay." When we do this, we're telling God it's fine when it really isn't. We're making our body obey our insecurity. Even though we tell our body to respond a certain way, God who sees our insides knows the truth.
Don't push away pain with a "power woman" agenda or false independence. When something hurts, say "ouch." That's why small groups exist—so you can say ouch to the person next to you and not feel condemned. This is how we become whole.
3. Ask God to Forgive You
We've already asked God to forgive us to receive Him as Lord and Savior. But life will bring moments when you need to say: "God, for this particular incident, for this particular people-pleasing behavior, for this performance-driven agenda, for this addiction—God, please forgive me again."
In that moment, God says, "I see you, and I can heal you."
A bruise is an area of skin discoloration where small blood vessels break and leak their contents into soft tissue. How many times have you bruised and didn't know it? How many times have you ignored the opportunity to say "ouch" for self-preservation?
Broken relationships are bruises. Failed marriages are bruises. Disappointments are bruises. When my husband and I were pursuing children and I struggled to get pregnant, that was a huge bruise. I would say to God, "I don't understand," but when people asked if I was okay, I'd say, "I'm fine." Inside, the bruise was wearing on my soul, causing sleepless nights, causing me to doubt God.
Bruises have symptoms—emotional strongholds that indicate unforgiveness:
Unforgiveness isn't even a real word in the English dictionary. It's a term we use for an emotional weight—a bondage we roll around with. It's a gateway drug to everything that is not good in your life.
When a bruise occurs, that's natural—it's going to happen in your life. But what you make up about that bruise matters. When you attach unforgiveness to the bruise, it takes on a life of its own and becomes a weight you drag behind you.
When you don't treat a wound, it festers. And when it festers, it can create sepsis. Sepsis is the fastest killer because it doesn't stay isolated—it spreads into your bloodstream and literally creates a new form inside you with one goal: to kill you.
When you walk in unforgiveness and say, "Oh, it's just this little thing. I don't have to talk to them. It's okay," you're allowing a bruise that could have been managed, cleaned, treated with the antibiotics of God's Word—you're sitting there okay with spiritual sepsis seeping into your bloodstream. You literally become the walking dead.
Just a few weeks ago we talked about the favor of God in our lives. Here's what happens when you walk without forgiveness: you're telling the enemy, "I am subscribing to the pattern of your thinking. I no longer want to subscribe to the Kingdom of Heaven. I want to subscribe to your kingdom."
When sepsis works spiritually, things begin to shut down around you. Your finances get affected. Your relationships get affected. Doors that God intended to keep open get affected. Opportunities God intended for you get affected. We're okay with the sepsis because it's not outright affecting us immediately. But when your finances get touched and your children begin to come under attack, that's an indicator we need to get that thing out of us.
Medical professionals advise: do not drain the bruise with a needle—you don't want to aggravate it. Do not continue running or otherwise using the painful bruised part. Keep it in a safe space. And importantly, do not ignore the pain or the swelling.
That's what we're doing here today—creating a hospital room for you to deal with your bruise.
For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins. (Matthew 6:14-15)
Conviction comes from God alone—not from man. We're in a space today where we're saying, "God, this baggage, this luggage doesn't look good on me. When I'm walking around bitter, it doesn't look good. When I can't forgive, it doesn't look good. When I'm hurting and pretending I'm not, it doesn't look good."
Understand that forgiving someone is an act of your will. Forgiving them doesn't necessarily mean they're going to say sorry. Their apology is not an indicator that you are free. You get free for yourself. You're not in a position to demand an apology from someone who doesn't have the same revelation you have.
It's not your job to go to somebody who wounded you and demand what you think you're owed. Jesus didn't come to you demanding what you couldn't provide. He just died on the cross for you. You have no right to demand forgiveness or require someone say sorry to you because you feel you've been owed.
He paid a debt He did not owe. I owed a debt I could not pay.
1. Acknowledge the Pain
Don't say "it's okay, I'm fine" and shrug it off. Be practical: "Father, when this person [name them] did this particular thing to me, I felt this particular emotion." Name your emotion.
2. Own the Consequence
Only after owning the consequence of their sin will you have the ability to release the effect of that sin. You're not taking responsibility for their sin, but you're acknowledging the consequence of what they did to you.
Finally, freedom requires you to admit your grudge against God. We as believers don't like to utter this out loud, yet we walk around as if God owes us something. God is no debtor to any man. He's not intimidated by your anger, and He wants you to express it to Him.
When we're dealing with a grudge against our heavenly Father, recognize this: in the seasons when you could not carry yourself, He was carrying you.
There's a poem I love called "Footprints in the Sand":
One night I dreamed a dream. I was walking along the beach with my Lord. Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life. For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand—one belonging to me and one to my Lord.
When the last scene of my life shot before me, I looked back at the footprints in the sand. There was only one set of footprints. I realized that this was at the lowest and saddest times of my life. This always bothered me, and I questioned the Lord about my dilemma:
"Lord, you told me when I decided to follow you, you would walk and talk with me all the way. But I'm aware that during the most troublesome times of my life, there is only one set of footprints. I just don't understand why, when I need you the most, you would leave me."
He whispered, "My precious child, I love you and will never leave you. Never ever. During your trials and testings, when you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you."
There you saw how the Lord your God carried you as a father carries his son, all the way you went until you reached this place. (Deuteronomy 1:31)
Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God. (1 John 3:1)
In the difficult moments of your life, He carried you. You did not walk by yourself. He did not ignore you. He was with you.
Forgiveness is God's gift. When you have sleepless nights and an issue, it's an indicator of sepsis. Ask God to forgive you and your sleep will return. Forgive that person and your sleep will return. God wants you to be real about where you are, but He doesn't want you to stay in that anger. He wants you to get a revelation of His proximity in your life. He wants you to walk in freedom.
We come to God asking why things aren't moving in our lives, but often the answer is simple: we are carrying too much weight. Just as my father once arrived at the airport with one empty suitcase while our family traveled with 20-25 pieces of luggage, so too do we travel through life weighted down by expectations, disappointments, trauma, and unprocessed events.
The longer we live, the more we accumulate. We become so accustomed to carrying our luggage that when someone suggests we might need to set it down, we look at them as if they're crazy. But here's the truth: the weights we carry distract us from our focus and create a bridge in our ability to reach our destination.
When we drag life's weight with us, we don't have enough capacity for the voice of God. The spirit speaks in the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit, not in the tumultuous things we're holding onto. Christ came as the ultimate disrupter of our baggage-carrying syndrome, and removing our weight is a choice we must make for ourselves.
For it is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. (Galatians 5:1)
The first baggage we encounter when we come to Christ—or after we've come to Christ—is the need to forgive ourselves. We must look in the mirror and say: "I am still redeemed by the Father. He still loves me. I'm not perfect, but I'm loved."
Two universal emotions hold us back: persistent shame and hiding. These are indicators that we're refusing to let go of baggage. We spend time in "shoulda, woulda, coulda"—caught in regret, refusing to forgive ourselves.
An addiction is not the core issue; it's a symptom. The core belief is: I am not enough the way God made me. When we attach something to our identity to hide from shame, we tell God that the way He created us is insufficient. We allow the enemy to make that thing our identity so the real us can continue hiding.
Many of us live performance-driven, people-pleasing lives. A stronghold is a pattern of wrong thinking that tells us the only way to receive love is to act out or be everything to everyone. Perhaps we were the jokester in the family, or we learned that we had to sacrifice even to our detriment to be accepted.
We're dying on the vine, thinking we're doing everything our family needs, not realizing we're holding onto baggage that needs to go. This pattern often comes from our family of origin—how we were raised, who was in the home with us during our formative years.
Suicidal ideation is the most sinister and self-harming issue. Those dealing with it speak from hopelessness: "I can't do this anymore. I'm not enough." But this reveals a lordship issue—we're telling God that we who didn't create ourselves and didn't bring ourselves into this world somehow have the right to be the Lord of our own life.
The Bible says we are made in God's image, intentionally created to look like Him, sound like Him. Our height, our voice, our color were deliberately placed on us by God. Who are we to tell our Creator years later that what He gave us freely is not enough?
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. Let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and now is seated in the place of honor beside God's throne. (Hebrews 12:1-2)
Jesus dealt with suicidal ideation, performance thoughts, people-pleasing, and every desire to attach addiction to our identity. On the cross of Calvary, as He died, these were released. They can no longer taunt us.
The word "lay aside" comes from the Greek word apotithēmi—a compound of "apo" (away) and "tithēmi" (to lay down). This means we are literally choosing to lay down and push away beyond reach all the issues we're facing. It's a deliberate decision to make a permanent change of attitude and behavior—not a 360-degree turn, but a 180-degree turn, going the opposite direction.
Paul, who wrote Hebrews, is familiar with shame and hiding. Do you know what Paul's first name was? Saul. Saul killed people. Saul was a murderer. But God changed his name because the murderer that was associated with Saul no longer existed. Paul says, "I have changed so much that God has changed my name."
Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. (1 Timothy 1:15-17)
Saul had to die for Paul to live. What he's saying is: accept the perfect work of Christ on the cross. The old ways, the old weights, the guilt, the shame—they're gone.
1. Recognize Your Emotional Cycles
Become self-aware of your pattern of behavior. When do you hide? What triggers your shame? When someone disappears and isn't responding to calls, they're dealing with something internally. Get to a point where you ask yourself: Am I dealing with shame right now? What has triggered this hiding? Why do I want to run away?
2. Do Not Underestimate the Pain You Feel
Do not take your pain and shove it to the side, saying "it's okay." When we do this, we're telling God it's fine when it really isn't. We're making our body obey our insecurity. Even though we tell our body to respond a certain way, God who sees our insides knows the truth.
Don't push away pain with a "power woman" agenda or false independence. When something hurts, say "ouch." That's why small groups exist—so you can say ouch to the person next to you and not feel condemned. This is how we become whole.
3. Ask God to Forgive You
We've already asked God to forgive us to receive Him as Lord and Savior. But life will bring moments when you need to say: "God, for this particular incident, for this particular people-pleasing behavior, for this performance-driven agenda, for this addiction—God, please forgive me again."
In that moment, God says, "I see you, and I can heal you."
A bruise is an area of skin discoloration where small blood vessels break and leak their contents into soft tissue. How many times have you bruised and didn't know it? How many times have you ignored the opportunity to say "ouch" for self-preservation?
Broken relationships are bruises. Failed marriages are bruises. Disappointments are bruises. When my husband and I were pursuing children and I struggled to get pregnant, that was a huge bruise. I would say to God, "I don't understand," but when people asked if I was okay, I'd say, "I'm fine." Inside, the bruise was wearing on my soul, causing sleepless nights, causing me to doubt God.
Bruises have symptoms—emotional strongholds that indicate unforgiveness:
Unforgiveness isn't even a real word in the English dictionary. It's a term we use for an emotional weight—a bondage we roll around with. It's a gateway drug to everything that is not good in your life.
When a bruise occurs, that's natural—it's going to happen in your life. But what you make up about that bruise matters. When you attach unforgiveness to the bruise, it takes on a life of its own and becomes a weight you drag behind you.
When you don't treat a wound, it festers. And when it festers, it can create sepsis. Sepsis is the fastest killer because it doesn't stay isolated—it spreads into your bloodstream and literally creates a new form inside you with one goal: to kill you.
When you walk in unforgiveness and say, "Oh, it's just this little thing. I don't have to talk to them. It's okay," you're allowing a bruise that could have been managed, cleaned, treated with the antibiotics of God's Word—you're sitting there okay with spiritual sepsis seeping into your bloodstream. You literally become the walking dead.
Just a few weeks ago we talked about the favor of God in our lives. Here's what happens when you walk without forgiveness: you're telling the enemy, "I am subscribing to the pattern of your thinking. I no longer want to subscribe to the Kingdom of Heaven. I want to subscribe to your kingdom."
When sepsis works spiritually, things begin to shut down around you. Your finances get affected. Your relationships get affected. Doors that God intended to keep open get affected. Opportunities God intended for you get affected. We're okay with the sepsis because it's not outright affecting us immediately. But when your finances get touched and your children begin to come under attack, that's an indicator we need to get that thing out of us.
Medical professionals advise: do not drain the bruise with a needle—you don't want to aggravate it. Do not continue running or otherwise using the painful bruised part. Keep it in a safe space. And importantly, do not ignore the pain or the swelling.
That's what we're doing here today—creating a hospital room for you to deal with your bruise.
For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins. (Matthew 6:14-15)
Conviction comes from God alone—not from man. We're in a space today where we're saying, "God, this baggage, this luggage doesn't look good on me. When I'm walking around bitter, it doesn't look good. When I can't forgive, it doesn't look good. When I'm hurting and pretending I'm not, it doesn't look good."
Understand that forgiving someone is an act of your will. Forgiving them doesn't necessarily mean they're going to say sorry. Their apology is not an indicator that you are free. You get free for yourself. You're not in a position to demand an apology from someone who doesn't have the same revelation you have.
It's not your job to go to somebody who wounded you and demand what you think you're owed. Jesus didn't come to you demanding what you couldn't provide. He just died on the cross for you. You have no right to demand forgiveness or require someone say sorry to you because you feel you've been owed.
He paid a debt He did not owe. I owed a debt I could not pay.
1. Acknowledge the Pain
Don't say "it's okay, I'm fine" and shrug it off. Be practical: "Father, when this person [name them] did this particular thing to me, I felt this particular emotion." Name your emotion.
2. Own the Consequence
Only after owning the consequence of their sin will you have the ability to release the effect of that sin. You're not taking responsibility for their sin, but you're acknowledging the consequence of what they did to you.
Finally, freedom requires you to admit your grudge against God. We as believers don't like to utter this out loud, yet we walk around as if God owes us something. God is no debtor to any man. He's not intimidated by your anger, and He wants you to express it to Him.
When we're dealing with a grudge against our heavenly Father, recognize this: in the seasons when you could not carry yourself, He was carrying you.
There's a poem I love called "Footprints in the Sand":
One night I dreamed a dream. I was walking along the beach with my Lord. Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life. For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand—one belonging to me and one to my Lord.
When the last scene of my life shot before me, I looked back at the footprints in the sand. There was only one set of footprints. I realized that this was at the lowest and saddest times of my life. This always bothered me, and I questioned the Lord about my dilemma:
"Lord, you told me when I decided to follow you, you would walk and talk with me all the way. But I'm aware that during the most troublesome times of my life, there is only one set of footprints. I just don't understand why, when I need you the most, you would leave me."
He whispered, "My precious child, I love you and will never leave you. Never ever. During your trials and testings, when you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you."
There you saw how the Lord your God carried you as a father carries his son, all the way you went until you reached this place. (Deuteronomy 1:31)
Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God. (1 John 3:1)
In the difficult moments of your life, He carried you. You did not walk by yourself. He did not ignore you. He was with you.
Forgiveness is God's gift. When you have sleepless nights and an issue, it's an indicator of sepsis. Ask God to forgive you and your sleep will return. Forgive that person and your sleep will return. God wants you to be real about where you are, but He doesn't want you to stay in that anger. He wants you to get a revelation of His proximity in your life. He wants you to walk in freedom.
