Episode 7: The Lies That Quietly Shape Our Lives

Hi, I'm Chris Ray, and this is your heart room. It's a place where your story is safe, your questions are welcome, and together we discover that Jesus is not afraid of the places we've spent years trying to hide. If you're joining me for the first time, welcome! I'm so glad you're here. New to Heartfully Alive, I encourage you to begin with episode one. This season is one continuous journey of healing, and each episode builds on the one before it. Over the past six episodes, I've shared my story the pain, the searching, the encounter with Jesus, the healing, and finally the beautiful realization that nothing was wasted because God had been pursuing me all along. Today I'd like to begin shifting the conversation. Because while my story may not be your story, I believe the condition of our hearts is often much more alike than we even realize. So today I'd like to ask you a question. Have you ever stopped to wonder whose voice you're listening to? Not the voices around you, the voices inside you. Let's dig in. So if you've ever stopped to wonder whose voice you're listening to, the voice inside you, the one that's been speaking to you for years, the one that tells you you're not enough, the one that says you're too much, the one that says you'll never change, the one that whispers you'll always disappoint people, the one that tells you God is disappointed with you, the one that says, if you just worked harder, prayed more, performed better, then maybe you'd finally be enough. Maybe your voice is you're a failure, you're damaged, you're invisible, you'll never measure up, you're too emotional, you're not wanted. You probably already know what yours says. Most of us assume that's simply our inner voice. It's just a part of who I am. It's just always been there. But what if I told you it isn't? What if some of the loudest voices in our hearts never belonged to us in the first place? I recently came across something fascinating. Psychologists have discovered that the internal dialogue we hear every day is often formed by voices we've absorbed throughout our lives. From parents, teachers, friends, bullies, culture, experiences, you name it, repeated messages eventually become our internal narrator. In other words, the voices around us slowly become the voice within us. When I first heard this, I thought, how interesting. Because the Bible has been pointing us toward this reality all along. Scripture tells us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds, to take every thought captive, to know the truth, because the truth sets us free. And that is so true and amazing. And maybe the reason we need our minds renewed is because we've been listening to voices that were never God's voice to begin with. As I reflected on that and studied it more, I realized something else. Every wound has a voice. And now maybe you're thinking, wait a minute, back up. Every wound has a voice? What do you mean by that? Well, just think about it. A wound doesn't simply leave pain behind. It leaves an interpretation, an imprint. It tells us what happened means. It tells us who we are because of what happened. It tells us whether we're lovable, whether we're safe, whether we're enough, whether we're too much, and so on. If those messages are repeated often enough, they begin to sound like our own voice. That's why I say every wound has a voice. A wound will whisper, you're not enough. You'll never change. If people really knew you, they wouldn't love you. You have to prove yourself to get their love. Don't trust anyone. You have to earn love. Hide who you really are. Be perfect. Put on that face. Don't let anyone see your weakness. But here's the beautiful news the wound doesn't get the final word. That's not the only voice that's speaking, because Jesus has a voice too. Healing begins when we learn to recognize the difference. And that's why I believe it's not a failure of faith to need healing. I'm not making excuses for unbelief, and I'm not saying we should stay where we are. And I'm certainly not compromising faith. Faith calls us to trust Jesus. But sometimes as we walk with him, he lovingly begins exposing the lies, the fears, and false messages that have been competing with his voice all along. Healing isn't the opposite of faith. It's one of the ways God strengthens our faith by teaching us to trust his voice above every other. Looking back, I can see that some of the deepest beliefs I carried weren't things I consciously chose. They quietly became part of me. As a little girl, I learned to listen for footsteps, not because anyone sat me down and taught me to, but because my environment taught me that being alert felt safer than being surprised. Then I went to school. There were more voices, more messages, words that were spoken. Messages were received, some directly, some indirectly, some intentionally, some without anyone ever realizing the impact they had on me. Over time, my heart quietly reached conclusions. Something must be wrong with me. I'm not enough. I need to perform. I need to make everyone else happy. I need to earn approval. If I'm perfect, maybe I'll finally be loved. Those thoughts became so familiar that I stopped questioning them. I assumed they were simply part of who I was. But here's what I've also learned. Just because a voice is familiar doesn't mean it's true. When I gave my life to Jesus, I thought the first thing he would change was my behavior, but instead, he started changing what I believed. He didn't begin by giving me a list of rules. He began by introducing me to his heart. He spoke to me. He loved me. He drew me close. He patiently began untangling years of lies with the gentle truth of who he really is. And I realized something beautiful. The goal of healing isn't simply to stop believing lies. The goal of healing is to know the one who is the truth. Jesus didn't argue with every lie I believed. He simply kept revealing himself. And the more clearly I saw him and heard him, the less believable those old voices became. And can I share something that changed my life? Before I came to Christ, I battled racing thoughts almost every morning. As I was getting ready for work, my mind would become completely consumed with worry, fear, frustration, and anger. I'd replay conversations. I'd imagine arguments. I'd think through every possible outcome. I'd try to solve problems that were far bigger than I could control. And it was exhausting. It became such a pattern that I almost expected it every morning. And then when I came to Christ, I began spending time with him. I began reading his word. And one morning, as I was getting ready, those familiar thoughts started flooding my mind again. It seemed like just another ordinary morning. Until suddenly I heard these words in my spirit as clearly and as powerfully as I've heard anything. I heard who told you that? I literally stopped in my tracks. I knew those words. They weren't random. They were the very words God spoke to Adam in the Garden of Eden. Who told you that you were naked? In that moment, it was as though the Lord wasn't just interrupting my thoughts. He was inviting me to examine their source. Where did those thoughts come from? Who had been shaping the way I saw myself? Were those thoughts coming from Jesus, or had I simply accepted them because I'd heard them for so long? That question changed everything because I realized something. Not every thought deserves my agreement, not every voice deserves my trust, and not every message I've believed has come from God. Friend, maybe today the Lord is asking you that same gentle question. Who told you that? And perhaps an even more important question, can I gently ask you something? Does Jesus agree? Because when I read the Gospels, I don't see Jesus speaking shame over anybody. I see him restoring dignity. I don't see him humiliating the broken. I see him drawing near to them. I don't see him demanding perfection before extending love. I see him inviting weary people to come and find rest. That doesn't mean he ignores sin. It means he meets people with both truth and grace. And that's exactly what he began doing in me. He wasn't simply correcting my behavior, he was healing my heart. Maybe today that's where he's beginning with you too. So this week I'd love for you to spend a little time listening, not to the loudest voice in your mind, but to the voice beneath it. Ask yourself, what do I believe about myself that Jesus has never actually said? Whose voice have I mistaken for his? And what would change if I actually believed Jesus? Take those questions into prayer, write them in your journal, sit quietly with the Lord, and simply ask him to begin revealing what is true. So I'd like to close in prayer. Father, thank you that your voice is never one of condemnation, but always one of true spoken and perfect love. Would you help us recognize the voices that have shaped our hearts but never came from you? Give us courage to release the labels we've carried, renew our minds, heal our hearts, teach us to recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd, and help us believe what you say about us more than what our wounds have whispered to us. Thank you that the wound doesn't get the final word. Thank you that your voice is stronger than shame, stronger than fear, and stronger than every lie we've ever believed. Help us to know you more deeply, trust you more fully, and follow you more faithfully. In Jesus' name, amen. So next week we're going to continue this conversation because once we begin recognizing the voices that shape us, the next question becomes: how do we recognize the voice of God? Jesus said, My sheep hear my voice, but what does that really mean? How do we hear him in a world full of competing voices? That's where we're headed next. So until then, remember this you are seen, you are deeply loved, and the voice that matters most is the voice of the one who calls you his own. I love you, and I'll see you next week.