This Broken Place
The hardest storms often bring the most sacred lessons. Through brain trauma and mental health battles, Dianna Hobbs' life splintered into pieces. Yet in those splintered places, she witnessed a profound truth: it's in our most broken spaces where God's power flows most freely.
It might take you just a few minutes to read this, but it took me many hours—and tears—to write it. Because some stories aren't easy to tell; some broken places are so vulnerable, they're not easy to lay bare.
But I’ve been holding onto this for too long, and God isn't letting me stay silent anymore—and trust me, I've tried.
If you caught my last post titled, One of Those Frustrating Days, you've seen how God keeps talking to me. He's been saying, "Share it. All of it." Even the parts that make my heart race just thinking about them.
Well, this weekend, everything came to a head. Of course, God chose my family as my first audience.
Here's the raw truth (because what's the point if it's not?): For the last five years, I've found myself in dark places. Not just the "life is hard" kind, but a deep, pitch-black kind where I felt like an emotional zombie.
These weren't times of big tragedies. Just me, battling depression.
Depression.
Even typing that word feels like breaking a taboo. I grew up Pentecostal, where depression was seen as "letting the enemy win" or "not claiming your victory."
After my 2019 brain injury, depression hit hard. Getting out of bed felt like lifting an elephant. Daily tasks like showering or brushing my teeth were monumental. Smiling? That felt like solving calculus, and I'm terrible at math!
Then came God's nudge this past Saturday to share something I've hidden since that injury: bipolar symptoms showed up, uninvited.
I’ve talked about my son Kaleb’s OCD and bipolar diagnosis , but I've always resisted sharing my own struggles with bipolar issues.
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My Denial Phase
I think I was in denial, hoping that with enough prayer, it would just go away.
Now, anxiety? I can talk about that all day. I had to, especially when I couldn't face the public anymore. But mania, those crushing lows? I kept those under wraps, barely touching on them.
When mania first struck, leading to some embarrassing moments in public, doctors blamed it on the prescription, Lexapro. Switching to Prozac helped a bit, but the episodes didn't fully stop.
Houston, we had a problem.
In 2019, one antibiotic, Bactrim, changed everything. It took years to process, but with God, family, therapy, and medication, I owned that rare medical incident. An allergic reaction triggered a ministroke, and nearly 30 seizures rewired my brain in the worst ways.
Though my bipolar symptoms remain relatively mild, and anxiety is my biggest issue, the TBI also brought unexpected emotional volatility. Sudden anger outbursts became my unwelcome companion - erupting with my family, catching my employees off guard, shocking colleagues who thought they knew me. These moments of uncontrolled rage left me deeply ashamed. I'd snap, say things I'd never normally say, and then be horrified by my own behavior.
Yet, I didn't admit that the traumatic brain injury (TBI) left me with bipolar symptoms.
I never spoke those words out loud, convincing myself it couldn't be true.
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Depression Hurts
Manic phases make my thoughts race, my impulse control—already shaky post-TBI—plummets further. Then comes the depressive crashes, lasting days or weeks. In those moments, my self-worth vanishes. My brain, once so different, now constantly criticizes: You don't matter. You're alone. You're failing at life.
And then, the whispers that maybe the world would be better without me.
"It's just brain damage causing mood swings," my doctors say. But the cause doesn't matter; depression hurts regardless.
It's like living in an emotional desert where everything good turns to dust. Where numbness is your only friend because feeling nothing is better than feeling too much. Where focusing feels impossible because my brain's like a scrambled egg.
So, I told my family about my bipolar disorder on Saturday. They listened quietly as I spilled out five years of hidden truth. They hugged me. Didn't judge me. Validated me. Assured me I didn't need to hide or feel ashamed. Their support was a massive relief.
I thought I was done, but God told me to share with you too.
Gulp.
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God’s Grace Is Enough
Here we are. I've learned that these mental scars are not to be hidden. Each layer I peel back stings, but God's grace is enough.
Remember 2 Corinthians 12:9? It says, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." I've been sitting with that one a lot lately, diving into what that really means.
That word "power" here? It's dýnamis (or Dunamis, as it's more commonly written). In Greek, it's not just any old power, but the kind that performs miracles, the kind that can transform even a broken brain like mine for His purpose.
“God said, ‘Remind My servant that My supernatural, transforming power makes the impossible possible’— and you’re about to witness it in your life like never before!”
But here's the part that really gets me: when Paul talks about Christ's power "resting" on him, the Greek word used there literally means "to pitch a tent" or "to dwell upon."
It's the same concept as God's presence dwelling in the Tabernacle in the Old Testament. It's just like God's glory filling the Tabernacle, setting up camp (Exodus 40:34-35).
Think about that for a second. The same way God's glory filled that holy place, His power wants to make a home in our broken places.
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What Really Hits Me
This isn't just about God helping us through tough times - it's about God's miraculous power—His dýnamis—making a home in our weaknesses. In my scattered thoughts, my bipolar episodes, every glitch from my TBI.
Isn't that mind-blowing?
Here's what really hits me: When it says His power is "made perfect" in weakness, "perfect" translates to teleióō in Greek, meaning to bring to completion, to fulfill its intended purpose.
God isn't just fixing our broken parts; He's using them to express His power fully. Like how a crack can be the perfect spot for a plant to grow.
Our weaknesses are signs that God's power is at home in us. People see it when I write these devotions despite my scattered mind, when I keep going even when my brain feels like it's short-circuiting.
I used to see my brain injury as just that—an injury. The bipolar symptoms? Just damage. But God showed me this weekend that these broken places are where His dýnamis—His miracle-working power—wants to dwell.
It reminds me of the Tabernacle - not a grand, polished palace, but a simple tent that traveled through wilderness places. My broken mind isn't a problem to be hidden. It's a sanctuary where God's presence can pitch its tent, right in the middle of my mess.
Whether it's mania, depression, or any struggle you face, His dýnamis isn't just visiting; it's setting up camp. Through every challenge, His power is at home.
And this power, dýnamis, is where we get "dynamite" from—explosive, transformative, earth-shattering. So, here's God, taking this mountain-moving power and choosing to make it most visible in our broken places.
Only God can do something so incredible!
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This Broken Place
His dýnamis isn't just showing up for a visit. It's not offering temporary relief. It's not dropping off a quick blessing and moving on. No—it's pulling out the tent pegs, spreading the canvas, and declaring, "This broken place? This wilderness? This is exactly where I choose to display My glory. This is where I'm making My home."
His strength shines through our impotence, His power through our powerlessness.
To remind you that God's presence—and His glory—dwells with you in your broken places, I'm stirring Isaiah 43:2 NIV as the sweetener in your cup of inspiration, which says, "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze."
As you drink down the contents of your cup, remember that God's power doesn't avoid the rough waters and the raging fires of your life. He pitches His tent right in the middle of them.
Every crack, every wound, every wilderness becomes sacred ground when God's power makes its home there. And that's the miracle: not that we escape the broken places, but that His glory shows up most powerfully within them.
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Now Let’s Pray Together.
God, thank You for choosing our weakest places as the dwelling place for Your strongest power. Thank You that Your dýnamis doesn't just visit our wilderness—it sets up residence there. Help us see our broken places not as obstacles to Your power, but as opportunities for Your glory to be displayed. In Jesus' name, Amen.
Note: If you're navigating mental health challenges, please know that seeking help is an act of courage, not weakness. Professional support, combined with spiritual guidance, can be a powerful path to healing. Your journey matters, and you are deeply loved—both by God and by those around you who want to support your wellness.
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If you desire prayer, please allow me, along with my intercessory prayer team, to stand in faith with you for breakthrough. We would be so honored. We have seen God work over and over again. There is power in agreement. Click here to request prayer now.
As always, thanks for reading and until next time... may today's cup of inspiration uplift, encourage, and empower you!
