LIGHT THE WAY

A reflection on discernment, unhealthy cycles, and the freedom that comes from building your life around what God reveals.

"Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."
John 8:32

A few months ago, someone I loved shoved me out of a vehicle.

I never imagined I'd write that sentence, but pretending it didn't happen wouldn't change the truth.

My first instinct was to look for more information.

Maybe there was another conversation we needed to have.

Maybe there was something I didn't know.

I've always believed that before making a major decision, I should have as much information as possible. I don't like making assumptions, and I don't believe one bad decision automatically defines someone's character.

But there comes a point where you're no longer gathering information.

You're avoiding what you already know.

That was the moment everything changed for me.

I realized I already had enough information to make a decision.

If someone physically hurts you, that's information.

If someone controls you financially, that's information.

If someone repeatedly lies, manipulates, intimidates, or makes you question your own reality, that's information.

You don't need to know every detail to recognize a pattern.

You don't need every answer before taking the next faithful step.

For me, accepting that wasn't about giving up on someone.

It was about accepting the truth.

As time passed, I realized this wasn't just about one relationship.

Truth is always revealing something.

Sometimes it reveals that a relationship is healthy.

Sometimes it reveals that it isn't.

Sometimes it reveals the people who quietly show up when your world falls apart.

Sometimes it reveals the people who would rather believe a rumor than have a conversation.

Sometimes it reveals that someone isn't living the values they claim to believe.

Truth isn't meant to make us cynical.

It's meant to make us discerning.

Proverbs 3:5-6 tells us to "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding." I thought trusting God meant waiting until I understood everything. Now I believe trusting Him often means responding faithfully to what He's already revealed.

Looking back, I don't think God was withholding clarity from me.

I think He had been revealing it all along.

I just wasn't ready to accept it.

That's the beautiful thing about God's truth.

It doesn't only reveal what's broken.

It reveals what's worth building.

For me, that became my faith.

My children.

My peace.

My purpose.

And the people who consistently chose honesty, compassion, and love.

Those are the things I'm building my life around now.

Not because everything is perfect.

Because those are the things that will last.

The more I reflected, the more I realized the person who hurt me wasn't the only one giving me information.

Everyone was.

Some people reached out.

Some people prayed.

Some people called just to ask how I was doing.

Some people reminded me that I didn't have to carry everything by myself.

Those moments mattered more than they'll probably ever know.

Galatians 6:2 says, "Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." The people in my life weren't trying to solve my problems. They were reminding me I didn't have to carry them alone.

Other people gave me information too.

Some watched from a distance.

They saw me at community events.

They saw my posts online.

Maybe they knew I had been through something, and maybe they didn’t.

Some believed what they heard instead of asking what was true.

Some chose comfort over difficult conversations.

Some protected appearances instead of people.

That was information too.

I don't say that to criticize anyone.

I say it because every response revealed something.

Not just about them.

About me too.

It reminded me of the kind of friend I want to be.

The kind of leader I want to be.

The kind of person I want my children to become.

Proverbs 27:6 says, "Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses." Real friendship isn't avoiding uncomfortable conversations. It's loving someone enough to tell the truth, ask the hard question, make the phone call, or simply sit with them when there aren't any words.

I don't want to mistake watching for supporting.

I don't want to assume someone is okay because they look okay.

I don't want to hear part of a story and convince myself I know the whole story.

I want to be someone who shows up.

Someone who asks.

Someone who listens before forming an opinion.

Someone who chooses compassion over assumptions.

Because healthy communities aren't built by people who stand on the sidelines.

They're built by people who are willing to step into someone else's life with humility, wisdom, and love.

Looking back, I'm grateful for what was revealed.

Not because every relationship survived.

Because the ones that did were built on something real.

And that's a foundation worth building my life on.

As I kept writing, I realized this newsletter isn't just about one relationship or one event.

It's about patterns.

Unhealthy cycles rarely begin with one dramatic moment.

They begin with small compromises that slowly become normal.

They continue when we ignore what we already know because we're hoping for a different outcome.

Sometimes those patterns are abuse.

Physical abuse.

Emotional abuse.

Financial abuse.

Psychological abuse.

Spiritual abuse, where faith is used to create fear, shame, or control instead of freedom.

Technology-facilitated abuse, where phones, social media, location sharing, or constant communication become tools for intimidation or control instead of connection.

No matter what form it takes, abuse isn't rooted in love.

It's rooted in power and control.

God calls us to something different.

Isaiah 1:17 says, "Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed." Justice has always mattered to God. So has truth. We can't defend what we're unwilling to acknowledge.

I also realized that unhealthy cycles don't continue because of one person's choices alone.

Sometimes they continue because people make excuses.

Sometimes they continue because silence feels safer than honesty.

Sometimes they continue because we protect a reputation instead of protecting a person.

Sometimes they continue because we repeat information we never stopped to verify.

Sometimes they continue because we confuse forgiveness with the absence of accountability.

Ephesians 5:11 reminds us to "Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them." I've come to understand that exposing darkness isn't about humiliating people. It's about refusing to pretend unhealthy patterns are healthy ones.

As I thought about all of this, I realized I had a choice to make too.

Not about what someone else had done.

About what I was going to do with the truth once I saw it.

I could spend my life hoping reality would become something different.

Or I could accept what God had already revealed and move forward with wisdom.

That's where freedom began for me.

Not because everyone suddenly changed.

Because I stopped asking truth to become more comfortable.

I accepted it for what it was.

Romans 12:18 tells us, "If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone." I love that verse because it reminds me that peace has two parts. There is my responsibility, and there are things that don't depend on me. Once I understood the difference, I stopped carrying burdens that were never mine to carry.

Truth doesn't have to be easy to accept.

It just has to be true.

And once I accepted that, I stopped building my life around potential.

I started building it around what was real.

My focus changed.

I stopped spending so much time trying to understand everyone else's choices.

I started paying attention to the life God had already placed in front of me.

I became more intentional about who had access to my life.

I used to think being open was the same as being authentic.

It isn't.

Not everyone who asks questions is looking to help.

Some people genuinely care.

Others are simply looking for information.

Discernment taught me the difference.

The people who have earned my trust know they can count on me, and I know I can count on them.

Jesus said, "Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to swine" (Matthew 7:6). Wisdom includes knowing what to share, when to share it, and with whom. We can be honest without giving everyone access to the most sacred parts of our lives.

I also became more intentional about where I invested my time and energy.

My children.

My faith.

My health.

My purpose.

Jesus said, "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also" (Matthew 6:21). I wanted to invest in the life God had already entrusted to me.

Which meant I had to take an honest look at myself.

When everything happened, I isolated from people who genuinely loved me.

Healing meant reaching back out.

It meant repairing relationships that had always been rooted in mutual love, honesty, and respect.

Those conversations weren't always easy, but they were worth having.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 reminds us that "two are better than one... If either of them falls down, one can help the other up." You don’t have to walk through life's hardest seasons alone.

I started walking away from environments where I didn't feel free to be authentic.

I'm no longer interested in maintaining an image that requires me to hide who I am.

I'd rather be known for living honestly than admired for pretending everything is fine.

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free (Galatians 5:1). Christ didn't free us so we could live trapped by fear, appearances, or the expectations of other people.

I no longer felt the need to convince people.

If someone had already decided what they wanted to believe, I wasn't going to spend my life arguing for my character.

My responsibility isn't managing other people's opinions.

It's living with integrity.

Over time, I realized peace and avoiding conflict aren't the same thing.

Sometimes peace requires a difficult conversation.

Sometimes it requires a boundary.

Sometimes it requires letting go.

Every one of those decisions created space for something better.

Today, my life is healthier than it's been in a long time.

Not because I've avoided hardship.

Because I'm no longer carrying things that were never mine to carry.

Instead, I'm investing in what God has already shown me matters.

My children.

My faith.

My purpose.

My peace.

Looking back, I don't believe God was taking something away from me.

I believe He was making room for something better.

As I look back on my life, I try not to spend too much time thinking about what I lost.

I think about what God revealed.

He revealed relationships that were rooted in truth.

He revealed relationships that weren't.

He revealed people who showed up without being asked.

He revealed people who couldn't.

He revealed places where I needed to grow.

He revealed that my peace was never meant to depend on another person's choices.

Most of all, He reminded me that my identity has always been found in Him.

I titled the first section of this newsletter Who's Keeping the Cycle Alive? because I believe it's a question all of us should ask from time to time.

Not because we're responsible for another person's behavior.

But because every day we have opportunities to either continue unhealthy patterns or help break them.

We break the cycle when we choose truth over appearances.

When we ask instead of assuming.

When we listen instead of gossiping.

When we show up instead of standing on the sidelines.

When we protect people instead of protecting reputations.

When we choose integrity, even when it's uncomfortable.

Micah 6:8 says, "He has shown you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God."

I can't control another person's decisions.

I never could.

But I can choose to live honestly.

I can choose to show up for the people God has placed in my life.

I can choose to protect my peace without closing my heart.

I can choose to trust God's truth, even when it asks me to let go of something I wanted to hold onto.

Jesus said, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives" (John 14:27).

For a long time, I thought peace would come when I had every answer.

Now I know peace comes from walking with Christ, even when I don't.

Today, my life isn't better because everything turned out the way I expected.

My life is better because God used every part of this season to refine my faith, strengthen my discernment, deepen my relationships, and remind me what matters most.

That's the life I'm building.

And by God's grace, I'll keep building it one faithful step at a time.

Heavenly Father,

Thank You for being a God of truth, wisdom, and grace. Thank You for loving us enough to reveal what we need to see and for walking beside us as we learn to trust You more deeply.

Give us the courage to accept the truth, even when it changes our plans. Help us recognize unhealthy patterns before they become unhealthy cycles. Teach us to be people who show up with compassion, who speak with honesty, who protect the vulnerable, and who live with integrity.

Help us invest our lives in what truly matters. Strengthen our faith, deepen our discernment, and remind us that our peace is found in You, not in circumstances we cannot control.

May we become people who reflect Your love, Your justice, Your mercy, and Your truth in every relationship You've entrusted to us.

In Jesus' name,

Amen.

In Solidarity,

Lyndsay LaBrier
Merchant Ship Collective