Robyn has lived in multiple states across the country and has served in a variety of callings within the Church, including Relief Society, Young Women, and Primary. She especially loves teaching foundational gospel truths and helping others feel the love of God in personal and practical ways. Professionally, Robyn works in health and healing as a mindfulness, conscious eating, and metabolic health coach. At the heart of her work is a desire to help people become deeply acquainted with who they truly are. She believes life is a sacred journey of remembering our divine nature and learning to live from greater love and wholeness. Robyn now lives in Utah with her four children and a codependent Goldendoodle. She loves being active, playing volleyball, hiking, reading, traveling, and being around fun people.
Enter Robyn…
Pain has a way of getting our attention.
Sometimes it begins as a whisper: a small ache, a quiet discomfort, a subtle signal that something needs care. Other times, when we ignore the whisper long enough, it becomes loud enough that we can no longer look away.
Recently, I injured my quad tendon.
At first, it seemed manageable. I’ve been strength training for years. I’m a personal trainer by background. I know how to modify exercises, work around limitations, and keep moving. So that’s what I did.
I adjusted. I compensated. I avoided certain movements when the pain was sharp. But every leg workout, I still tried to return to my normal routine, the same exercises that had helped me build strength for years.
I wanted what had always worked before to keep working now.
But it didn’t.
The pain grew worse. Eventually I could no longer squat. Stairs became difficult. Standing up from a chair required assistance. I walked with a limp. Most nights I woke up in severe pain.
What had started as a whisper had become undeniable.
And I realized something humbling: I needed help.
Fortunately, I knew someone highly skilled in tendon rehabilitation. His name is Byron. Though I had years of fitness experience, I knew he had knowledge I did not have. He was better trained for this specific healing than I was.
So I reached out.
By then, I didn’t care about the cost. I cared about healing.
That desperation taught me something important: sometimes we only become willing to change when the pain of staying the same becomes greater than the fear of the unknown.
Byron gave me a new program. Honestly, I didn’t like it at first.
It looked too simple. Too light. Too different from what I believed built strength. I was certain I would lose muscle.
Some of the exercises for healing required me to place controlled stress on the very area that was causing pain and that I had been trying to protect. I feared I might make things worse. But he asked me to trust him.
So I did.
And that trust required more than doing new exercises. It required letting go of my certainty.
I had to release the belief that because something worked in one season, it must be the answer for every season.
I had to release the belief that healing should look familiar.
I had to release the belief that change would mean loss.
That last one may be the hardest for many of us.
We often resist change because we assume it will take something from us:
- Security,
- Identity,
- Comfort,
- Control,
- Relationships,
- Progress,
- or joy.
Even when we are in pain, we cling to the known because it feels predictable.
We tell ourselves, “At least I know this pain.”
So we modify. We cope. We adjust around the wound.
And sometimes that is appropriate for a season.
But sometimes pain is not asking for better coping strategies. Sometimes pain is asking for healing.
That can be true physically. It can also be true emotionally and spiritually.
Turning our Heart and Will to God
Sometimes the pain in our lives is inviting us to change a pattern, tell the truth, seek support, shift a family dynamic, change habits that are no longer healthy, soften our heart, or finally bring something into the light.
Sometimes the pain is asking us to stop trying to save ourselves with methods that are no longer working.
In the gospel, repentance is often misunderstood as punishment or shame. But the Bible Dictionary teaches that repentance is a turning of the heart and will to God. It also signifies a change of mind—a fresh view about God, ourselves, and the world.
Allowing Healing
What if repentance is less about proving our sorrow and more about allowing healing?
What if it is less about condemnation and more about trusting the Healer? Christ sees what we cannot always see. He knows where we compensate. He knows where fear has disguised itself as wisdom. He knows where we have mistaken familiarity for safety. He knows where our current strategies once served us but no longer can carry us forward.
And sometimes His invitations can feel as surprising as Byron’s rehab plan felt to me.
- Forgive them.
- Rest.
- Speak honestly.
- Let go.
- Ask for help.
- Be still.
- Try again.
- Love your enemy.
- Receive grace.
- Begin differently.
The Master Healer Knows
To the fearful mind, these invitations can seem too simple, too risky, too weak, or too costly.
But the Master Healer understands the soul the way a true expert understands the body. He is restoring.
What I feared most in my recovery was loss. I was certain I would lose strength and muscle by stepping away from the methods I trusted.
Instead, something surprising happened.
My tendon healed. And beyond that, I gained strength. My legs became more toned. I developed muscle in places I never had definition before. I became more capable of running, playing, and fully living the life I love.
The very path I feared would diminish me, strengthened me.
The Doorway to a Greater Life
I wonder how often we assume the same thing spiritually.
We fear that if we surrender resentment, we will lose protection.
If we tell the truth or live more authentically, we will lose love.
If we slow down, we will lose progress.
If we trust God, we will lose control.
If we change course, we will lose everything we worked for. But with Christ, what appears to be loss is often the doorway to greater life.
We see only a small part of the picture. Heaven sees the whole design.
Where we see subtraction, God is creating capacity.
Where we see endings, God is planting beginnings.
Where we see weakness, God is building strength we could gain no other way.
A Sacred Signal
Pain is not punishment. It is information. And often, it is a sacred signal asking for healing.
And healing frequently asks for trust:
- Trust beyond your current understanding.
- Trust beyond old methods.
- Trust beyond appearances.
- Trust beyond fear.
And if He asks you to change course, you may discover that what you feared would diminish you was the very path meant to restore and strengthen you.
Not only did my tendon heal—I gained strength I did not have before. I saw new growth in places that had never developed under my old approach.
Transformation
I believe Christ works this way with the soul.
He does not merely repair what hurts. He increases our capacity. He builds strength where weakness once lived. He brings definition, clarity, and wholeness in places we did not know could change.
What we call loss may become transformation.
What we fear may become freedom.
And what feels like the end of one way may be the beginning of something stronger than we could ever have imagined.
