A Holy Release Matthew 11:28 - Personal Blog of Trisha Rapley, Australian Author.

I used to believe pain lived only in the mind, that grief could be reasoned with, that sadness would dissolve if I named it correctly.

But pain is wiser than language. It settles quietly into the body, into bones that remember what the mind tries to forget, into muscles that tighten around unspoken goodbyes, into skin that has learned to brace for loss, into the very fibres that teach the heart how to keep beating even when it is tired.

I have learned that trauma does not ask permission to stay.

It embeds itself where we are strongest and where we are most vulnerable. It lives in posture, in breath, in the way we flinch at tenderness or apologise for taking up space. And for a long time, I cared for my heart and my soul as though my body were separate, as though it had not carried every moment with me, as though it had not paid the cost of survival.

This new journey has taught me something holy and confronting: healing must include the body, too. When I finally chose what was best for my heart, my mind, and my soul, my body rose up and whispered, I need this as well.

For years, I avoided what might disrupt the image I was curating, the version of myself that looked composed, gentle, acceptable. I mistook restraint for virtue and self-denial for righteousness. But in doing so, I carried the heaviest burden of all: the weight of living disconnected from my own worth.

Self-worth does not live only in the places we allow others to see. It meets us everywhere, in how we move, how we rest, how we allow strength and softness to coexist. It lives in the unseen moments, in the discipline of choosing truth over performance, in the courage to honour what our body has been asking for long before we were ready to listen.

Now, in the quiet rhythm between movement and breath, between effort and release, I feel something loosening. In the spaces between the sets, in the ache that follows exertion, pain becomes a language of healing.

Not because I am punishing myself, but because I am finally letting go.

Each movement releases what no longer belongs to me. Old grief that has overstayed its welcome. Shame I mistook for humility. Attachments God asked me to surrender years ago, but I clung to out of fear, familiarity, or false loyalty.

This pain is not suffering. It is surrender made physical.

And I understand now, I cannot stand or kneel before Jesus and ask Him to heal me while my hands are still gripping what He has lovingly asked me to release. Healing is not only something we pray for; it is something we participate in. It is obedience expressed through action, faith embodied, freedom practiced one choice at a time.

My body is no longer a battleground.

It is an altar.

A place where release becomes worship, where strength and vulnerability kneel together, where what leaves makes room for what is whole.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

Matthew 11:28

Lord,

Thank you for caring not only for my soul but for my body, my mind, and my heart as one.

Show me where I have been holding onto pain you have already given me permission to release.

Teach me to honour the vessel you created, to listen when my body speaks, and to surrender what no longer serves your purpose in me.

Help me to choose healing, even when it is uncomfortable, and obedience, even when it requires letting go.

I trust you with all of me, nothing hidden, nothing withheld.

Amen.

A Holy Release Matthew 11:28 - Personal Blog of Trisha Rapley, Australian Author.

A Holy Release Matthew 11:28 - Personal Blog of Trisha Rapley, Australian Author.