Healing Our Wounds: Deep in our hearts…
Healing the Deep Wounds of the Heart
One of the greatest works of the Holy Spirit in our lives is the healing of our deepest wounds — not once, but daily if needed. Each day, the Lord invites us to come before Him with an openness of heart that allows His Spirit to touch the places we’ve long kept hidden. So many things can keep us from coming to the Father in this way: fear, shame, pride, or even the belief that we are “too broken” to be made whole. Yet, it is precisely in these hidden, hurting places that the Holy Spirit desires to dwell and bring restoration.
St. Teresa of Ávila reminds us, “The soul is like a castle made entirely of diamond or of very clear crystal, in which there are many rooms, just as in Heaven there are many mansions.” Within this “interior castle,” God desires to make His dwelling, illuminating even the darkest rooms with His presence. But to allow this light in, we must be willing to face the wounds, memories, and patterns that have shaped us.
Often, these wounds are not only ours — they are carried through generations. A parent wounds us, but they too were wounded by their parents, and their parents before them. It becomes a cycle of pain passed down through memory, habit, and fear. Yet, in the mercy of God, we are invited to be the generation that breaks the cycle. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, we can choose forgiveness, healing, and freedom — not only for ourselves but for those who came before and those who will come after.
Sister Miriam James Heidland, from the John Paul II Healing Center, often speaks of this sacred process of allowing the Lord to heal us at the deepest level — the level of the heart. She reminds us that the Holy Spirit desires to enter into our memories, to bring light where there has been darkness, and truth where lies have taken root. Healing, she says, is not about pretending the pain never existed, but allowing Jesus to step into the very moment of that pain and reveal His presence there. When we allow Him into those tender spaces — those places we’ve tried to forget or protect — we begin to experience a new kind of freedom that restores our identity as beloved sons and daughters of the Father.
Our memories hold not just moments but emotions and beliefs that can quietly shape the way we see ourselves and others. Sometimes we live from those unhealed places without realizing it — responding out of fear, control, or shame. But when we invite the Holy Spirit into those memories, He begins to reorder them in truth. He shows us where He was in the story all along, gently reminding us that we have never been alone.
This Jubilee Year is a special time of liberation and grace — a sacred reminder that God’s desire is to set His people free. The same Spirit that anointed Christ to proclaim liberty to captives is at work in us today. When we allow Him to heal our memories and restore our hearts, we step into that freedom as beloved children of the Father, living no longer bound by the past but renewed in hope.
The work of healing is not always easy, but it is holy. And each time we open ourselves to the Holy Spirit’s love, we take another step toward becoming who we were always meant to be — whole, radiant, and free in Christ.
The Saints and the Journey of Healing
When we look at the saints, we often see holiness, but what we sometimes forget is the depth of healing that shaped their sanctity. The saints were not immune to wounds, fears, or struggles — they were human, and through their humanity, God revealed His transforming mercy.
St. Mary Magdalene, once bound by sin and shame, became one of the greatest witnesses of love because she allowed Jesus to meet her in her brokenness. St. Augustine wrestled with his own past and restless heart until he found peace in God’s mercy, proclaiming, “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” St. Thérèse of Lisieux faced deep emotional suffering and the wounds of loss, yet she found healing through her “little way” of trust and surrender. Even St. Teresa of Ávila endured long seasons of dryness and illness, but through it all, her interior life was refined in the fire of divine love.
Each saint’s story reminds us that holiness is born not from perfection but from a willingness to let God heal and transform us. Their journeys teach us that wounds, when surrendered to Christ, can become wells of grace — not only for our own souls but for the healing of others.
In this Jubilee Year, we are invited to walk the same path: to let God into the hidden corners of our hearts, to trust the Holy Spirit to renew our minds, and to believe that healing is possible — no matter how deep the wound. The saints show us that sanctity and healing walk hand in hand, and that through the mercy of God, our pain can become a testimony of His love.
Biblical Healing and God’s Desire for Our Liberation
From the very beginning of salvation history, Scripture reveals a God who desires freedom for His people — not only physical freedom, but the deep interior liberation of the heart. Throughout the Old and New Testaments, we encounter a God who does not remain distant from our suffering but enters into it to bring redemption.
In the book of Exodus, God hears the cry of His people enslaved in Egypt and says to Moses, “I have witnessed the affliction of my people... and have heard their cry... so I have come down to deliver them” (Exodus 3:7–8). This same desire burns in the heart of God for each of us. The story of Israel’s liberation is not only historical — it is deeply personal. It is the story of a Father who longs to bring His children out of bondage, whether that bondage comes through sin, fear, shame, or wounds that have chained the heart for years.
Every act of healing in Scripture reveals this same truth. The blind see, the lame walk, and the captives are set free — not merely as displays of power, but as signs of the Kingdom, a visible manifestation of God’s love that restores the whole person. Jesus does not just heal bodies; He restores identity and dignity. When He says to the woman caught in adultery, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and sin no more,” (John 8:11), He lifts her from shame and invites her into new life. When He heals the leper, He touches the untouchable. When He raises Lazarus from the tomb, He calls out into death itself and brings forth life.
The Gospels show that healing is central to Christ’s mission. In Luke 4:18, quoting Isaiah, Jesus proclaims, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free.” Every miracle, every act of mercy, every encounter was an invitation to liberation — to step out of darkness and into the light of God’s love.
The Catholic understanding of healing holds this truth close: that the Lord continues His healing work through His Church today. In the sacraments, especially Reconciliation and the Eucharist, we encounter the same Christ who healed in Galilee. The confessional becomes a place of deep freedom — where sins are forgiven and the chains of shame are broken. In the Eucharist, the wounded Healer gives us His very Body and Blood as medicine for the soul. Through anointing of the sick, prayer, and community, we continue to experience the tender mercy of a God who restores.
Healing, then, is not a separate reality from salvation — it is part of salvation. Christ came not only to forgive our sins but to make us whole. His mission was, and remains, to free us from everything that keeps us from living as beloved children of God. And so, in this Jubilee Year of grace, we are reminded once more that true liberation begins when we allow His mercy to reach the deepest places of our hearts — where the wounds still speak, and where the Spirit longs to whisper: “Behold, I make all things new.” (Revelation 21:5)
I’d love to share about a wonderful resource I’ve started using: the book Jesus and the Jubilee: The Biblical Roots of the Year of God's Favor by John Bergsma. It’s perfectly timed for this Jubilee year and rooted in deep Catholic-biblical theology—exploring how the Jubilee from the Old Testament finds its fulfillment in Christ and invites us into freedom, restoration, and new identity.
What I love right now is that I’ve begun reading it aloud to my kiddos, and it’s absolutely convicting. Even in our home we’ve felt the truth of “liberty, return, rest” (themes Bergsma unpacks from Leviticus onward) working in our hearts—children begin to grasp that God’s plan for freedom isn’t just for “some day,” but real and present. It’s helping me live the message I shared earlier: that the Holy Spirit daily heals, and that Jubilee is more than a year—it’s the heart of our Gospel story.
If you’re looking for a text to anchor your own reflection or to journey with your family this year, I wholeheartedly recommend this book and no I am not affiliated.
Reflection Questions
Where in my heart do I sense the Holy Spirit inviting me to open a “locked room” — a place of hurt, memory, or fear — so that His light may enter and heal?
Are there wounds or patterns within my family that the Lord may be calling me to surrender to Him, trusting that He can bring healing through forgiveness and grace?
Which saint’s journey of healing speaks most to my own story, and how can their example inspire me to seek deeper freedom in Christ?
As I reflect on God’s desire for liberation throughout Scripture, what does it mean for me personally to live as someone set free — renewed in hope and restored as a beloved child of the Father?
