Healing Deep Wounds: Navigating Life’s Locust Stages and Reclaiming Your Purpose

There are certain pains that don't just hurt your present. They reach back and wake up parts of your past you thought were long gone.

When my husband's infidelities came to light, I expected heartbreak. I expected anger. I expected grief. What I didn't expect was how deeply it would stir wounds that had nothing to do with my marriage and everything to do with childhood.

Feelings I thought I had healed resurfaced, not feeling chosen, not feeling safe, not feeling like I was enough to be loved without fear of loss. And I found myself asking a hard but necessary question: Was this pain only about my marriage, or was it touching wounds I had been carrying far longer than I realized?

That question changed everything.

Because when old wounds and new wounds collide, healing becomes layered. The betrayal in my present didn't just break my heart as a wife. It awakened the heart of a little girl who had learned early how to survive emotional uncertainty. And when you're trying to heal both at the same time, the journey can feel confusing, exhausting, and overwhelming.

Unresolved childhood pain doesn't disappear just because we grow up. It quietly shapes how we see ourselves, how we love, and how we respond to hurt. So when trust is broken now, it can echo every time trust felt shaky before. When love feels threatened, it can awaken every moment we once felt unwanted. Sometimes our reactions feel bigger than the moment because our history is in the room too.

I began to realize that my current pain was interacting with my past in ways I had fully considered. And I had to gently ask myself, In what ways have past wounds influenced what I' walking through right now?

That's when the "locust stages" of Scripture became more than biblical reference to me. They became a roadmap for understanding my own internal struggle.

In the Bible, the palmerworm, locust, cankerworm, and caterpillar come in waves, each one consuming what the last one left behind. That's exactly how this season felt. And it didn't just affect my emotions. It affected my purpose.

The palmerworm stage felt like the initial shock. The discovery. The disbelief. This stage nibbled at my peace and stability. I was still functioning, still showing up in some ways, but internally I was rattled. My mind was consumed with questions and confusion. Without realizing it, my focus slowly drifted away from the vision God had given me. Have you ever noticed how emotional shock can quietly pull you away from purpose before you even realize what's happening?

Then came the locust stage, the devouring stage. This was the deep heartbreak, the tears, the emotional exhaustion. This stage didn't just nibble, it took big bites. My confidence took a hit. My joy took a hit. And so did my consistency with Pick Up Your Crown. It wasn't that I didn't care anymore. I was simply drained. It's hard to pour into others when you feel emptied out yourself. I had to ask myself, How do I keep walking in purpose when the pain is demanding all my energy?

Next was the cankerworm stage, more subtle but just as destructive. This stage attacked my thoughts. Doubt crept in. Fear whispered. Shame got loud. I started questioning everything. "Who am I to encourage other women when my own life feels messy?" "How can I speak on healing when I'm hurting?" This is where stagnancy truly set in. Not because my calling disappeared, but because insecurity tried to convince me I was no longer qualified. The cankerworm didn't attack my platform, it attacked my identity. And when identity is shaken, purpose often pauses.

Finally came the caterpillar stage, the stripping stage. This was the uncomfortable stage where God began dealing with roots. Old beliefs. old wounds. Old survival patterns from childhood that I never fully healed from. It felt exposing. It felt vulnerable. But this stage wasn't just about loss. It was about preparation. God was showing me that I hadn't only been wounded as a wfie. I had been carrying un-healed little girl wounds into womanhood and marriage. And I had face another honest question: What parts of me have been surviving instead of truly healed?

Each locust stage revealed something deeper. Yes, they affected my marriage. Yes, they slowed my movement in purpose. I became stagnant with Pick Up Your Crown because I was trying to pour from a place that was still bleeding. But those stages also revealed what needed God's healing touch in a way I had never allowed before.

Healing began when I stopped asking, "How do I get back to normal?" and started asking, "What is God trying to heal in me through this?" That shift changed everything.

I began to show myself compassion instead of criticism. I let safe people support me instead of isolating. I set boundaries where I used to overextend. I stopped pretending to be strong and started being honest. I invited God into the broken places instead of just asking Hi to fix the situation.

And slowly, purpose didn't feel like pressure anymore. It felt like overflow.

I realized healing isn't just about getting past pain. It's about becoming whole. It's about allowing God to address both present hurt and past wounds at the same time. I had to ask myself (because I ask myself a lot of questions, in case you didn't notice LOL), What steps can I take to heal on every level, emotionally, spiritually, and practically? Therapy, prayer, honest community, rest, and self-care all became part of that answer.

Somewhere along the way I understood something powerful. God wasn't just healing me so I could survive the season. He was healing me so I could fully walk in the purpose He placed inside of me.

What felt like stanancy was actually a scared pause. What felt like delay was really preparation. The same journey that broke me open deepened my empathy, strengthened my voice, and refined my calling. I began to see that even this pain could one day serve a purpose greater than I imagined. 

Maybe your current struggle is also touching older wounds. Maybe your stagnancy isn't laziness, but unhealed pain asking for attention. And maybe the delay in your purpose isn't denial at all. Maybe it's God doing deeper work so when you rise, you rise whole.

God restores what was eaten. Even the time. Even the confidence. Even the momentum. The locust stages don't get the final word. Restoration does.

If you're in a season where purpose feels paused and pain feels loud, give yourself grace. Healing doesn't mean you failed. It means you are doing the brave work of becoming whole. God never wastes a wound, and He never cancels a calling because of what you've been through.

Take Away

Your journey may have slowed your steps, but it did not steal your destiny. The very places that hurt the most are the places God is restoring, strengthening, and preparing for something greater. Nothing you walked through disqualifies you from the vision placed inside of you.

Your wounds did not cancel your calling. They are the very places God will use to reveal your strength, your story, and the crown that can't ever be taken from you.

Always remember that you are...Crowned, called, and still becoming.

Until we meet again.