In my last blog, Skill Without Soul, I wrote about the danger of becoming strong in gifting while staying underdeveloped in the places God cares about most. I wrote about how talent can carry us for a while, how we can look capable, polished, and productive on the outside while something deeper remains unsettled within us.
But if that post was about the exposure, this one is about the process.
Because once God reveals that something in us is out of order, He does not shame us. He begins to form us. And formation is rarely comfortable.
Saying that… I don’t like pain.
And I don’t just mean physical pain (though for years I lived without realizing an autoimmune condition was quietly teaching my body what constant fatigue and discomfort felt like). I’m talking about growing pains, too. The kind that don’t show up on a medical scan, but live deep in the soul.
I haven’t liked the pain of heartbreak. The pain of losing someone I treasured through death, distance, or the slow fading of a relationship that once felt safe. I haven’t liked the sting of betrayal, the ache of being misunderstood, mocked, or misjudged. And if I’m being honest, I haven’t liked the pain of perseverance either, the kind that asks you to keep showing up again and again when growth requires consistency, no matter what.
Pain, in any form, has always felt disruptive to me. It interrupts. It stretches. It exposes. It has a way of making everything feel fragile.
But I’ve realized something by now: not all pain means the same thing.
For a long time, I couldn’t tell the difference between the pain of something being removed from my life and the pain of something being formed within me. One feels like loss, and the other feels like resistance. And both can sound the same if you’re not paying attention.
However, Jesus gives us language for this in John 15:2:
“Every branch in me that does not produce fruit he removes, and he prunes every branch that produces fruit so that it will produce more fruit. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you.” (CSB)
That verse has quietly undone my desire to evade the pain that comes with growth.
Because removal makes sense to me. I understand sanctification as God pulls something out that clearly doesn’t belong. Sin. Pride. Unhealthy habits. Twisted thought patterns. Attachments and relationships that contradict His truth. There is a kind of clarity in that, even when it hurts. It feels decisive. Necessary. Clean.
But pruning? Pruning requires humility.
Pruning is different because it’s not always about removing something evil. Sometimes it’s about cutting back on something good so it can become healthier, stronger, and more fruitful. Sometimes it’s not God confronting rebellion. Sometimes it’s God refining readiness.
And that kind of pain is harder to figure out.
It requires slowing down instead of rushing to relief. It requires making room for reflection instead of demanding immediate answers. It requires us to stay present long enough to ask deeper questions.
Not just, Why does this hurt? But what is God doing through this pain?
Someone once described spiritual growth as a vertical spiral, moving deeper and higher at the same time. That image has stayed with me because it explains so much of what formation feels like. Sometimes it seems like you are circling the same lesson, the same tension, the same stretch. It can feel repetitive, even frustrating. But maybe you are not stuck. Maybe you are being taken deeper and higher. Maybe God is revisiting something, not because you failed, but because He is strengthening what He wants to establish in you.
That’s what pruning feels like: it stretches, it cuts, it slows you down, and it can feel deeply personal.
Pruning can look like God closing doors you were sure were open. It can look like delays in places where you expected momentum. It can look like tension in areas where you thought you had already surrendered. It can look like being trimmed back in the very places where you thought you were finally thriving.
And if you’re not careful, you can mistake that kind of pain for rejection. But maybe it isn’t rejection at all. Maybe it’s care.
Maybe God is not withholding something from you. Maybe He is protecting what is ahead by cutting away what would eventually compete with fruitfulness. Maybe He is not punishing you. Maybe He is preparing you. Maybe He is not taking you backward. Maybe He is making sure your roots run deeper than your gifts.
That matters to me because Skill Without Soul was never just about imbalance. It was about the danger of trying to carry outward fruit with an inward life that hasn’t been deeply formed. It was about the subtle tension of being able to do much while still needing God to do more in us.
And this is where that tension leads. When God exposes the gap between what we can do and who we are becoming, the next step is often pruning. Not to humiliate us. Not to diminish us. But to make us whole.
Because God is not only interested in what we produce. He is deeply committed to who we become. He is forming integrity so we can carry what’s ahead without compromise. He is trimming distractions so what remains can flourish. He is teaching us that fruitfulness is not the same thing as fullness, and that visible strength is not always the same thing as spiritual maturity.
Sometimes what feels like loss is actually love doing careful work. Sometimes what feels like resistance is actually growth pushing deeper. Sometimes what feels like an interruption is actually God refusing to let our gifts outrun our souls.
And if I’m honest, that kind of pain has become easier for me to respect. Not because I enjoy it. I still don’t.
But because I’m beginning to see that pruning means something important, there is still fruit worth tending. It means God has not walked away. It means He sees life. It means He loves us enough to keep shaping what He wants to sustain.
So lately, my question has changed. I’m asking less, Why does this hurt so much? And more, What kind of pain is this?
Is this God removing something that does not belong? Or is this God pruning something that does belong so it can grow stronger, healthier, and more fruitful?
There is a difference. And if I’m honest, I would rather be pruned than left untouched.
Because pruning means the weeds are not in charge. It means the roots are still alive. It means God is not finished with me. It means He is refining, not rejecting.
So if you are in a painful season right now, maybe the question is not simply whether it hurts. Maybe the question is what that hurt is producing.
Is something being removed? Or is something holy being formed?
Either way, He is not careless with the cutting. And that gives me hope.
What kind of spiritual pain are you experiencing right now?
Let’s tune in.
