When God Cried Through Me: A Story of Healing and Trust

I want to share a story I don’t talk about often, but it’s one that changed the course of my life. It was during one of the hardest seasons I’ve ever walked through—the months I spent in rehab. What was supposed to be a 90-day stay turned into eight long months. At the time, it felt like a punishment, like my life was under a microscope with every move scrutinized. I couldn’t see it as a place of healing yet.

One day, I found myself completely broken—praying, crying, and angry. I was empty, beyond tears. But then something strange and sacred happened: tears started falling, but they weren’t mine. I was spent, but somehow I was still crying. In that moment, it felt like God was crying through me. Like He was saying, “I feel this too. I’m here in the pain with you.”

Looking back now, I see how God was also grieving that I couldn’t yet recognize His love in the process—that I saw a cage instead of a sanctuary for healing. It was a gentle, intimate moment of divine empathy that I carry with me to this day.

But that season didn’t just end with tears. It was also when God healed my eyesight. My right eye, which had 20/200 vision, was restored to 20/20. A miracle I couldn’t explain then, and still marvel at now.

Since leaving rehab and stepping into my new life, things have been surprisingly smooth—no chaotic storms, just steady progress and provision. And even though God tends to work more quietly now, He still moves mountains. Like when He cleared an old arrest warrant that opened the door for me to receive a full-ride scholarship. His fingerprints are everywhere in my life.

I share this not to say, “Look at me.” But to say, “Look at Him.” God shows up—in big miracles and quiet mercies. Sometimes He cries with us, sometimes He opens doors we never thought possible, but He is always, always near.