Renovated Life Series #3
Every good renovation starts with a plan. Even the dramatic HGTV-style overhauls begin with a blueprint. There’s always some kind of inspection—some moment where someone points and says, “That’s going to be a problem.” And so it is with your life. Before we can rebuild, we have to take stock of what’s broken.
Most of us try to avoid pain—physical or emotional. We procrastinate, distract ourselves with endless scrolling, pour a drink, binge a show, stay too busy. These responses aren’t just about comfort; they’re often survival tactics. But what if we saw pain not as a problem to escape, but a signal to explore?
Dr. Paul Brand, who worked with leprosy patients, once noted that pain is essential. In leprosy, the nerves that signal pain are damaged. Patients injure themselves without realizing it. They burn their hands or wear holes in their feet—not because they’re reckless, but because they can’t feel. Without pain, you don’t know what’s broken. It’s the same with us.
Our pain—whether it’s anxiety, disappointment, shame, numbness, or exhaustion—might be the clearest indicator that something in our life needs attention, care, and healing.
Over and over in the Gospels, we see people coming to Jesus out of their pain:
• The woman with the issue of blood (Mark 5:25–34) who had suffered for twelve years.
• Blind Bartimaeus (Mark 10:46–52) who cried out for mercy while others told him to be quiet.
• The paralytic lowered through the roof (Mark 2:1–12) because his friends believed healing was possible.
Pain was their entry point. They didn’t wait until they had it all together. They came in desperation—and they were met with compassion. Jesus doesn’t shame us for being in pain. He meets us there.
When we begin a life renovation, pain is usually what gets our attention. A crisis. A moment of clarity. A deep sense that this isn’t working anymore. But let’s be honest: the thing you think is the problem may only be a symptom. That irritability might be masking burnout. That constant need to please others might be rooted in fear of rejection. Still—start where you are. Like treating the flu, we might begin with the symptoms, but we don’t stop there. Let pain be your guide, not your identity.
Proverbs 29:18 reminds us: Where there is no vision, the people perish. Pain gets our attention—but vision gives us direction. So here are two simple questions to begin planning your renovation:
- Where does it hurt?
- What would healing look like? When you answer those honestly, you begin to move. You begin to dream. You begin to plan. And that’s where change begins.
In counseling, we talk about SMART goals—Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant, and Timely. These aren’t just corporate buzzwords; they’re practical tools for progress. Once you have a clear sense of what hurts and what healing might look like, you can start setting small, achievable goals. You don’t need to renovate the whole house in a day. Just fix one broken window. Patch one hole. Take one step. Jesus told a parable in Luke 14:28 about a man who wanted to build a tower: “Won’t you first sit down and estimate the cost to see if you have enough money to complete it?” Even Jesus says: make a plan.
No one starts a renovation by shopping for accent pillows. You have to start with the pain. Don’t be afraid of it. Don’t ignore it. Let it speak. Let it show you what needs attention. God already knows it’s there—and He’s not walking away. In fact, He may have allowed the discomfort because He loves you too much to let you live with broken walls and hidden mold. So pause. Pay attention. And begin to imagine what it might look like to be whole. This is the beginning of your renovation. And it’s holy ground.
The thoughts shared here are for reflection and discussion, not professional counseling or advice. If you’re facing a mental health challenge, please seek support from a licensed professional. If you need to talk to someone immediately, call 988.
