178 | Hidden Battles: I’m Numb. I Feel Nothing.

It’s entirely possible that you are not angry. Not bitter. Just disconnected.

You still show up. You still serve. You still worship. But everything feels muted, like you are moving underwater. And sometimes you find yourself asking: “What’s wrong with me?”

There was a tough season I walked through some time ago. I came out of it brighter, even peachier. I made more friends, connected more, put myself out there more. From the outside, I looked like I had healed. But a few years in, I realised: I had made plenty of acquaintances but never connected deeply.

Somewhere in my subconscious, I was still guarded. Still bracing for disappointment. I didn’t even know I was asking the question:
“If these people were in my life during my storm, would they have stayed… or would they have jumped ship like the others?”

And sadly, in my heart, the answer was always: “No.”

So I was nice. I was present. I even went out of my way for them. But I expected nothing in return. And what that did was quietly disconnect me emotionally.

The problem is…. that same wall I built to protect myself from people also started keeping God out. I tried to pray, but my prayers felt like echoes in a hollow room. I tried to worship, but my heart stayed cold. It’s like having WiFi all around you, available, ready, but you just can’t seem connect.

Does this sound familiar?

The Numbness Is Real

There are experiences in life that don’t just bruise you, they numb you. And numbness is sneaky. It doesn’t scream; it settles.
It doesn’t tell you you’re broken; it convinces you this is normal. This is safety….
You still go through the motions.
You sing, you serve, you smile.
But nothing reaches your core. Nothing stirs the depths. And you tell yourself, “At least I’m still standing.”

But God didn’t call you to just stand. He called you to feel, to connect, to thrive. To love and be loved.

James 1:6–8 speaks of the “double-minded” man, unstable, unable to receive because of internal conflict. We often associate that with indecisiveness, but sometimes it’s numbness. A divided heart, one that shows up in church, but is secretly still recovering from wounds it never gave to God.

You love God.
You believe in Him.
But your heart is frozen with unprocessed pain.
You ask but don’t quite expect
And so, your faith comes with sprinkles of doubt. Your prayers come wrapped in self-protection. Your hope is covered in cautious disclaimers.

What i have realised is that walls that protect you from pain also block the flow of love. The truth is numbness is not a neutral space. It’s where the enemy hopes you stay, because it makes it hard for you to receive anything by faith.

And still, God sees you. He knows what you’ve buried. He remembers the day the disappointment became too much to carry. He watched you build the walls, brick by brick, and never once walked away. Now, He’s gently asking you to come out of hiding.
“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” (Ezekiel 36:26).

God can and is willing to change your heart. Healing begins when you allow God to touch the areas you’ve numbed. He never intended for you to survive by numbing your heart. He intends for you to feel again. To connect. To risk. To love truly, wholly and unhindered. 

Numbness Isn’t the End

Sometimes, numbness is how we survived. It was our body and heart’s way of saying “I can’t feel this right now.” But survival is not the same as healing and it was never meant to be enough.

Healing begins with honesty. It begins with:
“God, I don’t feel anything right now but I want to.” “Restore to me the joy of Your salvation (Psalm 51:12)

God knows the cost of the hope you lost. He understands the walls your soul built to feel safe. But even in your silence, He draws near to heal.

Numbness may be your current response, but it is not your permanent identity.
And if all you can do today is whisper, “Lord, help me feel again”, that’s enough. He hears it. And He’s closer than you think. God draws near not just to the broken, but to the numb. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18).

I think the saddest thing about being in this place, this numb, muted space is how long you can be there. Some people don’t even realize how long they’ve been stuck. They keep growing on the outside, but inside, they’re still frozen at the point where the pain first hit. And by the time they stop to take inventory of their hearts, they feel like life has already passed them by.

They’ve built homes in survival mode. They’ve mastered the art of existing, but not truly living. And somewhere along the line, sorrow became a quiet roommate, settling like a dark cloud on their shoulders, making even joy feel heavy.

It shows in their posture. In their eyes. In their voice.
You can almost hear the silent ache behind their laughter.

Maybe that’s where you are now.
Maybe you’ve been carrying something for so long, your soul forgot what lightness feels like.

Dear sister, dear brother, drop it.

Drop the weight.
Drop the lie that healing is too far gone.
Drop the burden that Jesus already offered to carry for you. (Matthew 11:28–30, 1 Peter 5:7)

You don’t have to live with emotional paralysis.
You don’t have to wear numbness like armor anymore.
You can lay it down and let God in.

The road back to joy may be slow, but it’s still open.
And if you start walking today, even with a limp, He will meet you on the way.