Tourettes, Tics, and Tenderness
Have you ever met someone so deeply marked by
the fingerprints of God that you feel like you're in the presence of something
holy, even if they don’t see it themselves? I’m not talking about perfection,
not even close. I’m talking about someone who carries so much light that it
makes you blink—but they themselves see shadows when they look in the mirror.
Someone whose beauty and spirit are radiant to the outside world, but inside,
they wrestle with lies whispered by the enemy, lies that say, “You’re not enough,”
or worse, “You are the opposite of love.”
Recently, I had the honour of sitting down
with Regan. And I’d like to tell you a bit about her—what I’ve come to see, and
what I believe God sees too.
A
Modern-Day Barbie with a Soul That Sparkles
Outwardly, Regan looks like she walked out of
a dream. Long blonde hair, eyes that shift from green to yellow like they can’t
quite decide what part of the sky they want to hold, and a smile that—no
exaggeration—could light up a small town. If she walked into a room, heads
would turn, and that’s before she’s even said a word. She’s like a modern-day
Barbie, and yes, all the pink things too: sparkles, gloss, soft fabrics, and an
air that she was made for love.
But what makes her incredible isn’t what’s
visible. It’s her heart—one carved by the Creator with a gentleness that this
world doesn't quite know what to do with. Regan shared a story with me, one
that made us both laugh, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. She told me,
with a blush of embarrassment, that she believed in Santa Claus until the age
of thirteen. Thirteen. You might hear that and chuckle—and we did—but I think
there’s something deeper there.
What kind of heart still sees magic at
thirteen? What kind of spirit still believes in wonder when most of us are
already hardened by the edge of life? That’s not naivety. That’s sacred
innocence. That’s faith.
That’s also a flashing target to the enemy.
The Battle
for the Tenderhearted
You see, when someone carries that kind of
tenderness, the world doesn’t always respond in kind. In fact, those people
often become punching bags for the pain of others. The enemy can’t stand it
when someone reflects God too clearly. So what does he do? He sends a storm.
Regan’s been through more storms than some
would see in ten lifetimes. She’s tasted cruelty in the mouths of people who
should have loved her, been mocked for her joy, wounded for her trust. And
then, as if that weren’t enough, life threw something at her that most would
never recover from—a brutal vehicle crash. Not just a fender bender. I’m
talking about a real-life human bowling ball moment—hit by one vehicle only to
be slammed again by another. The kind of scene you only expect to see in action
movies.
That crash didn’t just rattle her bones. It
shattered them. Over nine surgeries followed. Nine. That’s a number I can’t
even comprehend when I think about it in terms of pain and recovery. She had to
relearn to walk. And just when she found her footing again—both literally and
metaphorically—she was diagnosed with a rare disease. The kind you can’t
pronounce without Googling it. The kind that sits heavy in your medical file
and heavier still on your spirit.
But here’s the plot twist the enemy didn’t
plan for.
She didn’t quit.
Strength
that Surprises
When I met Regan—on the other side of all
this—I expected to find someone brittle. Fragile. Scarred in spirit. And to be
honest, parts of her do carry scars. But what surprised me wasn’t her damage.
It was her resilience. She radiates hope. She laughs. She teases. She hugs with
the force of someone who still believes that love is worth giving away, even
when it costs.
And that’s where the title of this piece
begins to make sense. Tourettes. Tics. Tenderness.
No, Regan doesn’t have Tourettes in the
clinical sense, but life has given her involuntary twitches—interruptions of
what should have been smooth. A tic of pain here. A twitch of trauma there.
Interruptions that show up uninvited. But those involuntary tics have produced
something holy: tenderness.
She still believes in good. She still tries.
And she still gives people the benefit of the doubt, even when the world gives
her every reason not to.
Biblical
Reflections of the Broken and Brave
The Bible is filled with people like Regan.
People who were crushed but not destroyed. People who bore the image of God so
deeply that their scars became symbols of redemption.
Take Job, for instance. Everything
taken. Body broken. Friends accusing. And yet, Job said, “Though He slay me,
yet will I hope in Him” (Job 13:15). That’s not weak faith. That’s faith forged
in fire.
Or Joseph—sold by his brothers, falsely
accused, imprisoned. And yet, Joseph says, “You intended to harm me, but God
intended it for good” (Genesis 50:20). Sound familiar?
Let’s not forget Paul. A man who
carried the gospel on broken feet and bloodied skin, writing from prison: “We
are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed... struck down, but not
destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8-9). That’s Regan. That’s the tender warrior
spirit.
And then, of course, there’s Jesus
Himself. Wounded. Rejected. Betrayed. And still, He chose love. Still, He chose
the cross.
Three Ways
to Let God Shine When the Enemy Attacks
So what can we learn from this? How do we,
like Regan, keep the light burning when the winds of hell blow through our
lives?
1. Protect
Your Innocence Like It’s Gold
Because it is. The enemy wants to steal your
wonder. If he can make you bitter, he wins. But the childlike heart is where
faith lives. Jesus said, “Unless you change and become like little children,
you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3). Don’t grow up in
the ways that matter most. Keep believing in the magic. Keep your softness,
even if it costs.
2. Speak
Truth Louder Than the Lies
The devil is a liar. That’s not a
metaphor—it’s a fact. John 8:44 calls him “the father of lies.” So when he
whispers, “You’re broken,” you shout back, “I’m chosen.” When he says, “You’re
too weak,” you declare, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me
strength” (Philippians 4:13). Write it on your mirror. Tattoo it on your soul.
3. Surround
Yourself With Saints, Not Snakes
Life’s hard enough without trying to heal in a
pit of vipers. Choose people who water your soul. People who see your heart.
People who reflect God back to you when you forget what you look like in His
eyes. The early church wasn’t just about worship—it was about fellowship.
You need that. We all do.
God Still
Needs You. And Regan.
Here’s the beautiful and terrifying truth: God
has given us free will. We get to choose our next steps. And while none of us
knows exactly where Regan will go from here, what I do know—what I believe
to the core of my bones—is that God isn’t done with her.
God needs her.
God needs you.
He needs your light, your scars, your story.
Not the cleaned-up version, but the real one. The one with tics and stutters
and stumbles. Because that’s where the power is. That’s where tenderness
becomes a testimony.
This world doesn’t need more perfection. It
needs more light.
And that light?
It starts in hearts like Regan’s.
The Enemy
Doesn’t Play Fair—But God Doesn’t Play to Lose
When you see someone like Regan, and you learn
her story, it’s tempting to ask, “Why?” Why does someone with so much kindness
written into their DNA get so much thrown at them? Why does the enemy come so
hard for the tender ones?
Because he knows.
He knows something most of us are too
distracted to see: the ones who carry the most light are the biggest threats to
darkness.
You don’t throw rocks at an empty tree—you
throw them where the fruit hangs low and ripe. And Regan, in all her gentle
beauty, carries a fruitfulness that could feed the hungry hearts of everyone
around her. She’s a light bearer, even when she doesn’t feel like one.
And that makes her dangerous to the enemy.
But here’s the part the enemy always forgets: God
fights dirty too—but in the holiest of ways.
He fights through whispers of truth in the
night when your tears won’t stop falling. He fights through unlikely friends
showing up with meals, or laughter, or just sitting on the couch when the
weight of life makes it hard to breathe. He fights through memories that won’t
fade, songs that play at the perfect time, and moments of grace that defy
logic.
God fights for the Regans of the world.
And He never, ever loses.
The
Ministry of the Wounded
Have you ever noticed that in the Bible, God
seems to prefer the broken over the perfect?
Moses had a stutter. David had an affair.
Rahab was a prostitute. Elijah battled depression. Peter denied Jesus three
times. Paul used to kill Christians for sport. And Jesus—our perfect Saviour—was
wounded to the point of death, so we wouldn’t have to carry our wounds alone.
There’s a reason Scripture says, “By His
wounds, we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5)
God doesn’t sideline the injured. He uses
them.
In fact, He often gives the greatest
assignments to the ones who’ve been through the most. Why? Because they know
what grace tastes like. They know how to weep with those who weep. And they’re
not playing church—they’re living faith in the middle of the fire.
That’s Regan.
She’s not just a survivor. She’s a soldier.
One who didn’t sign up for battle but fights anyway. Not with swords or
shields—but with a smile. A story. A refusal to give up. And that kind of
faith? That’s revival in motion.
When the
Church Gets It Wrong
I’ve sat in pews long enough to know that
sometimes, the place that should offer healing is the one that pours salt in
the wound.
The church doesn’t always know what to do with
people like Regan. People who don’t fit the mold. People with stories that
don’t wrap up neatly. We like testimonies that come with bows on top. But real
stories? They’re messy. They’re unfinished. And that makes people
uncomfortable.
But Jesus wasn’t uncomfortable around the
messy.
He touched the leper. He dined with the tax
collector. He defended the woman caught in adultery. He let the sinful woman
wash His feet with her tears. He didn’t flinch when others turned away. He saw
past the dirt to the destiny.
So why don’t we?
If Regan walked into your church on a Sunday
morning—blonde hair flowing, eyes lit with unseen pain, scars hidden under
stylish sleeves—would she be embraced? Or politely avoided?
Would she be discipled? Or dismissed?
We must do better. Because people like
Regan—people who carry battle scars and holy tenderness—are not distractions
from the gospel. They are the gospel in human form.
From Barbie
to Warrior
Let me go back for a second to that first
impression: the walking Barbie. It's a label some may use with sarcasm,
misunderstanding, or even jealousy. But let me reframe it for you.
She is a Barbie—but not the kind you played
with as a kid. She’s the kind forged in fire. She’s the kind that’s been
reassembled after being shattered. She’s the kind that still chooses pink in a
world that feels gray. She’s not plastic. She’s porcelain that’s been glued
together with the gold of grace.
There’s a Japanese art called kintsugi—the
practice of repairing broken pottery with gold. The idea is that the object is
more beautiful for having been broken.
That’s Regan.
She is the living kintsugi of God’s
kingdom. A walking testimony. A breathing, blinking, mascara-wearing reminder
that beauty isn’t about being untouched. It’s about being held by God through
the breaking.
The
Tenderness That Changes Lives
What struck me most about Regan wasn’t just
her strength. It was her tenderness in the face of everything. She still looks
at the world like it might just surprise her. She still loves. She still
forgives. And she still believes in people—even when they don’t deserve it.
That tenderness? That’s her superpower.
It’s the thing the enemy has tried to take,
over and over. Through people who failed her. Through pain that stayed too
long. Through diagnoses that robbed her sleep. Through loneliness and
disappointment and betrayal.
But it’s still there. Untouched. Holy.
Shining.
And it makes me wonder… how many of us have
let go of our own tenderness in exchange for survival?
How many of us have grown hard when we were
called to be soft?
How many of us have mistaken walls for wisdom
and guardedness for strength?
Maybe what the world needs most isn’t more
tough people—but more tender ones. People like Regan. People like Jesus.
Three Final
Ways to Be the Light (Even When It Hurts)
Let’s wrap this up with three more things you
and I can do to push back against the enemy and let God’s light shine:
1. Turn
Pain into Purpose
Your scars aren’t meant to be hidden. They’re
meant to guide others through their own darkness. Romans 8:28 says, “God
works all things together for the good of those who love Him.” That
includes your pain. Use it. Don’t waste it. Let it become someone else’s
survival guide.
2. Stay
Childlike, Not Childish
There’s a difference. Childishness throws
tantrums and demands attention. But childlikeness? That’s about wonder. Joy.
Unfiltered trust in a God who never fails. The world is growing more cynical by
the day. Be the one who still believes. Be the one who still dreams.
3. Be the
Safe Place You Always Needed
Everyone’s looking for somewhere they can
exhale. Be that place. Offer that hug. Send that text. Ask that question. “How
are you really?” The more we reflect God’s love to each other, the less
room the enemy has to lie.
The Final
Word: God’s Not Done Yet
I don’t know what tomorrow holds for Regan. I
don’t know how her health will unfold or what new chapters are ahead. But I do
know this:
God is not done.
He’s still writing her story. And if she keeps
walking in His light—tics, trauma, tenderness and all—she’s going to shake
kingdoms.
Not because she’s loud. But because she’s real.
Not because she’s perfect. But because she’s His.
And the same goes for you.
The world doesn’t need more noise. It needs
more light. Quiet, consistent, Spirit-filled light that shows up when it’s
least expected.
So shine. Even if your hands tremble. Even if
your heart breaks. Even if the words don’t come easy.
Shine like Regan.
Shine like Jesus.
Because that light? That’s the only thing that
wins in the end.
And the world—this aching, angry, anxious
world—needs it more than ever.
I always wonder what you will see & feel & then how you tell the story or experience!
ReplyDeleteAMAZING INSIGHT! Thanks again