You say you moved on….

You say you’ve “moved on.”

You say it like a badge. Like survival stitched the seams back together and you no longer bleed when their name is spoken aloud.

But heaven sees deeper than your smile.

And I know…because I’ve whispered “I’m fine” with a heart still hemorrhaging.I’ve laughed with people while choking on memories.

I’ve walked forward with shards still embedded in my soul, calling it “closure” when it was just avoidance in disguise.

You’ve “moved on,”

but you still flinch when you pass the place you used to sit together.

You still scroll past their picture with a quick swipe, pretending it didn’t stir the ache you buried.

You still replay the conversations you never got to finish. You still carry the weight of what was said…and what was never said.

You still break, silently —

and call it strength.

Jesus doesn’t just heal the scars you’re willing to show. He gently presses on the places you’ve numbed, the corners of your heart you swore you’d never open again,

the wounds you kept hidden even from yourself.

Because He knows:

That pain you thought time could bury?

It’s still pulsing, still pleading for healing.

But Jesus doesn’t shame the bleeding.

He sits beside you in the rubble of what was.

He places His nail-scarred hand on the bruise you won’t name. He whispers truth over the lies you swallowed whole.

He sings peace over the chaos no one else sees.

You don’t have to fake healed anymore.

You don’t have to pretend moving on means you were never broken.

Jesus heals in places you won’t even admit are hurting, because He sees you completely,

and still, He stays.

So let Him.

Let Him touch the wound behind the wall.

Let Him hold the tear-stained grief you kept from every goodbye.

Let Him mend what time only muted.

Because healing isn’t pretending it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Healing is saying,

“It still hurts… but I know the Healer.”