You Good? It’s Okay Not To Be Okay
Written by: Pastor John Oh from Generations Church
I get to speak today wearing two hats—one as a pastor who loves the local church, and another as a clinician who has spent years listening to the stories people carry beneath the surface. Those two worlds have shaped how I see faith, healing, and what it really means to follow Jesus.
So let me start with a truth we desperately need:
It’s okay not to be okay.
Most of us learned how to fake it early—smile big, say “I’m good,” and move on, even when we’re falling apart inside. But what would it look like if the church became a place where we didn’t have to pretend? A place where we could show up honestly—on our best days and our worst days—and still be received with compassion?
I believe that kind of honesty would build a community of deep healing, a place where Jesus can actually do mighty works.
The Parts of Our Story We Try to Hide
God has blessed me deeply with my family. But blessing doesn’t erase the battles. There have been seasons where I was not okay—filled with sadness, anxiety, anger, and the pressure to be “fine.”
I read the books, listened to the podcasts, tried to fix myself. But no matter how many self-help strategies I tried, the same broken pieces kept resurfacing.
Maybe you’ve been there too.
One moment everything is fine, and the next moment you’re acting in ways that shock even you. But those unexpected reactions? Those explosions? That’s not a “glitch”—it’s a signal. A sign that something deep within us is asking to be seen.
And Jesus cares about what fills our minds—our thoughts, beliefs, emotions—because those shape the lives we actually live.
Your Past Isn’t Just Your Past
William Faulkner once said,
“The past is never dead. It’s not even past.”
What happened to us doesn’t stay neatly filed away. Our experiences—childhood, trauma, loss—live in our bodies. They sit under the surface until something pokes them, and suddenly our chest tightens, our jaw clenches, or we feel a pit in our stomach.
We can either pretend those moments don’t matter—or we can lean in and ask, “Lord, what are you trying to show me here?”
Because here’s the truth I tell every client:
You either deal with it, or you will deal with it.
There is no neutral.
My Story: Silence As Survival
I came to the United States from Seoul, South Korea at six years old. I didn’t speak the language. I didn’t understand the culture. We were poor—like “cockroaches on your pillow” poor. And my home was filled with violence.
I remember the sound of my mom being hit. I remember my brother’s screams. I remember being taken to foster care, standing naked while strangers photographed my bruises. The shame felt unbearable.
As a little boy, I shut everything down. No emotions. No tears. No expression. Silence became survival.
And research shows that trauma like that doesn’t disappear—it multiplies. Depression increases. Addiction increases. Abusive patterns repeat. Our bodies and brains adapt for survival, but those adaptations eventually harm us.
Even as an adult, when life felt calm, I would create chaos—start fights, pick destructive paths—because chaos felt familiar. Peace didn’t.
Trauma trains your body for survival, but Jesus wants to retrain your soul for freedom.
The Spiritual Lie That Almost Broke Me
Growing up in church, I was taught a form of spiritual amnesia:
“Just give it to Jesus.”
“Pray it away.”
“God has a plan—don’t be sad.”
But that’s not healing. That’s spiritual bypassing—using faith language to avoid doing the work.
Jesus never told us to pretend. He said, “Come to me.”
Come tired.
Come burdened.
Come with your whole being.
Healing isn’t pretending the story didn’t happen.
Healing is allowing Jesus into it.
David: A Case Study in Unprocessed Pain
In Psalm 130 David writes:
“Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord…
My whole being waits.”
David knew deep pain—rejection by his father, years on the run from King Saul, trauma, betrayal, violence, and the chaos of leadership. His unresolved wounds eventually led him to a dark moment where he abused his power, pursued Bathsheba, and killed her husband to cover it up.
Unprocessed pain always leaks.
It shows up in addiction, rage, control, sabotage, or collapse.
But David eventually breaks wide open before God:
“Create in me a clean heart, O God.”
He goes first. He gets vulnerable. And that vulnerability becomes an invitation for everyone else.
Sometimes healing begins when someone else is brave enough to go first.
What It Takes to Heal
If you want to move toward wholeness, here are four steps:
1. Name It
You can’t heal what you refuse to name.
Pain grows in secrecy but shrinks in the light.
2. Invite Jesus In
Not to the polished parts—but to the wounds.
“Lord, meet me in my childhood.”
“Meet me in that memory.”
“Meet me in that place where everything broke.”
3. Find Your People
Pain often comes from people—but healing usually does too.
A small group, a counselor, a pastor, a trusted friend.
Don’t do this alone.
4. Be Patient With the Process
Healing isn’t forgetting.
Healing is learning to live with your story without being ruled by it.
The Hardest Thing to Believe
Eugene Peterson once said that the hardest part of faith is believing that God truly loves us.
We can believe He loves others—but believing He loves me?
That’s harder.
So let me speak this over you:
God loves you.
God is on your side.
God is after you.
And He is relentless.
Not the “future version” of you who finally has it all together.
You—right now.
The hurting you.
The anxious you.
The angry you.
The disappointed you.
The healing-you-in-process you.
He is not intimidated by your story.
He is not ashamed of your wounds.
And He is not done with you.