“I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to think. I hadn’t prayed in a really long time… and then something just broke open.”
There’s a kind of running that doesn’t look like rebellion on the outside at first.
It looks like survival.
It looks like trying to hold it together.
It looks like doing everything “right” while quietly carrying pain that has no place to go.
Jasmine grew up surrounded by faith. Church wasn’t just something she attended, it was her entire world. Ministry was in her family, woven into her identity from the very beginning. She knew God was real. She had seen His power. She had experienced His presence.
But she had also experienced deep pain in the very place that was supposed to be safe.
Abuse.
Disappointment.
Confusion.
Anger she didn’t know what to do with.
So she did what many of us do when pain and faith collide, she hid it.
She learned how to function.
She learned how to perform.
She learned how to be “good.”
But she never learned what to do with her brokenness.
And slowly, without even realizing it, her relationship with God became less about connection and more about earning. If she could just be good enough, maybe she would be lovable. If she could just get it right, maybe God would accept her.
But that kind of life doesn’t last.
There comes a moment when you can’t sustain pretending anymore.
For Jasmine, that moment didn’t lead her closer to God, it sent her running in the opposite direction. “If I can’t be who I’m supposed to be here… then I’ll just leave.”
And so she did.
She walked away from everything she had known. She deconstructed her faith before that was even a common phrase. She numbed her pain the way the world teaches you to, chasing relief, chasing distraction, chasing anything that might quiet what was still unresolved inside.
But here’s the truth we don’t always say out loud: Running doesn’t heal you. It just relocates your pain. And eventually, even the running stops working.
The Moment Everything Changed
Six years into marriage, Jasmine found herself in a moment she never expected.
A pregnancy.
And at the same time, signs she might be losing that baby.
Rushed into the hospital.
Overwhelmed.
Confused.
Unsure what to feel.
And then, in a quiet room with a flickering screen, she saw it.
A tiny heartbeat.
Life.
The technician left her alone for a moment, and for the first time in a long time, Jasmine wasn’t distracted. She wasn’t numbing. She wasn’t performing. She was just… there.
Looking at life.
And something in her broke open.
Love rushed in.
Not logical.
Not earned.
Not deserved.
Just… love.
She began to speak to that tiny life, encouraging it, willing it to live, telling it how loved it was.
And in that moment, God met her.
Not with correction.
Not with condemnation.
Not with a list of everything she had done wrong.
But with a question.
Why are you saying that to this baby?
And then, gently, clearly, unmistakably, He answered it for her.
Because it’s yours.
Because even now, when it looks so tiny, you know what it will become.
You know it matters. You know it’s worth everything.
And then came the words that changed everything:
“I feel the same way about you.” In that moment, everything shifted.
For the first time, Jasmine understood something she had never truly known before.
God didn’t love her because she got it right.
God didn’t love her because she was “good.”
God didn’t love her because she had earned it.
God loved her because she was His.
Why We Run
When she left that hospital, she saw her life clearly. God had no place in it. Not because He had left, but because she had pushed Him out.
And the realization hit her hard:
What am I doing?
I’m running from love.
Not just any love.
The only love that had never failed her.
The only love that could actually heal her.
The only love that had been pursuing her the entire time.
So she did something simple, and incredibly brave.
She came back.
Not cleaned up.
Not fixed.
Not with answers.
She came back honest.
“I know you love me… but I don’t love me.”
“I’m angry.”
“I’m hurt.”
“I don’t know how to live.”
And instead of being turned away, she was met.
That’s where healing began.
Not in perfection.
Not in performance.
But in relationship.
What Love Actually Does
For the next nine months, as she carried her son, she also walked through something deeper.
Healing.
Deliverance.
Transformation.
She learned what to do with her anger. She learned what to do with her pain. She learned what to do with the parts of her she used to hide.
She brought them to God.
And little by little, everything began to change.
Not because she tried harder.
But because she finally stopped running.
Her son lived.
Her heart healed.
And her life was rebuilt, not around performance, but around love.
Maybe This Is Your Moment Too
There’s a line in her story that stays with you:
“I’m running away from the only One who has ever actually loved me.”
If you’re honest, maybe part of you feels that too.
Maybe you didn’t mean to run.
Maybe it started with pain you didn’t know how to process.
Maybe it started with disappointment, confusion, or anger.
But somewhere along the way, distance felt easier than vulnerability.
And now you’re tired.
Here’s the truth her story reminds us of:
You don’t have to find your way back perfectly.
You just have to turn around.
Because the Father you’ve been running from
is the same Father who has been waiting for you.
Not with disappointment.
Not with shame.
But with love.
The kind of love you don’t have to earn.
The kind of love that meets you right where you are.
The kind of love that says:
You’re mine.
Keep going.
Come home.
So the question isn’t whether He loves you.
The question is:
Why keep running from love?
Jasmine Escobal is a pastor and a teacher. She’s a minister based out of Tucson, Arizona, and having walked through deep disappointment and profound restoration, she carries a passion to help people encounter the love of the Father, the healing of Christ, and the transforming work of the Holy Spirit. Her ministry is marked by biblical depth, compassion, and a deep desire to see lives restored and rebuilt in God.
Stay connected with Jasmine:
0 Comments