From Wounds to Purpose is a spiritual guide that offers practical guidance and steady encouragement to turn suffering into strength. You write that pain is unavoidable, but our response to it is a defining choice. When did that idea become central to your work?

As stated in my book, my brother, Ronnie LaCombe, preached a Sermon, “We Serve A Stumbling God.” When he said, “I’m talking about the Almighty God that was manifested in the flesh. The God that stars and angels sang over his birthplace. They called his name Jesus. This was God’s eternal son. 

He could change water into wine.
He could walk the turbulent waves of the deep like a pedestrian would walk across the street. 
He could call the dead by name and they would be raised to life again.
He could touch the lame and they would walk.
He could give sight to the blind.
He could cleanse disease and demonic powers had to leave at his presence.
But listen to me, this visible image of this invisible God needed help to get his cross to the top of a hill.
Somebody had to help him carry his cross!”
As I listened to that sermon, tears flowing, I realized… That’s it! 
That’s my ‘HOW’. That’s HOW I got through all those years!
And so my response is, that is when the ‘idea’ became not only the central to my life… but my work!

You encourage readers to turn toward their wounds rather than bury them. Why is that so difficult for many people?

Turning toward our wounds is difficult because it asks us to face what we’ve spent years trying to survive.

For many people, wounds are tied to pain, shame, fear, or loss—and the mind is wired to avoid what hurts. Burying pain can feel safer than reopening it. Avoidance becomes a form of protection:

If I don’t look at it, maybe it won’t hurt anymore. Unfortunately, what we bury doesn’t disappear—it simply goes underground and quietly shapes our thoughts, relationships, and choices.

Another reason it’s hard is that wounds often challenge the stories we tell ourselves. Facing them may mean admitting that something wasn’t okay, that we were hurt, abandoned, silenced, or misunderstood.

That truth can feel destabilizing, especially for people who learned early on to “be strong,” “move on,” or “not dwell on the past.”

There’s also fear of being overwhelmed. Many worry that if they turn toward their wounds, the pain will be too much—that they’ll fall apart or never recover.

What they don’t yet know is that unacknowledged pain has more power than pain that is lovingly faced.

This is the heart of From Wounds to Purpose: not asking readers to reopen wounds recklessly, but inviting them to gently, bravely, and truthfully turn toward what shaped them—so it no longer controls them.

How do you balance encouragement with honesty about how hard healing can be?

Balancing encouragement with honesty means refusing to sugarcoat the journey while never removing hope from it.

True encouragement doesn’t say, “This will be easy.”
It says, “This is hard—and you are not weak for finding it so.”

Healing asks people to sit with discomfort, grief, anger, and unanswered questions. Being honest about that difficulty builds trust.  When we name the struggle, readers feel seen rather than pressured. They realize they’re not “failing” at healing—they’re experiencing it.

At the same time, honesty without hope can feel overwhelming. That’s why encouragement matters. Encouragement reminds readers that difficulty does not mean impossibility, and pain does not mean permanence.

We can say:

This will take time — without implying it will take forever.
You may feel undone at moments — without suggesting you’ll stay broken.
There will be setbacks — without denying real progress.

The balance comes from normalizing the mess while illuminating the meaning.

Honesty names the cost of healing.

Encouragement names the value of it.

What advice do you have for someone who feels resistant or stuck?

Here are several core pieces of advice from the heart of my book, offered without pressure and without judgment:

1. Stop trying to force healing.
   Healing does not respond well to demands. When we push ourselves with “I should be over this by now,” resistance grows stronger. The book invites readers to replace force with curiosity. Instead of asking, “What’s wrong with me?” ask, “What is this part of me protecting?”
2. Go smaller than you think you should.
   Feeling stuck often comes from trying to take leaps when the nervous system only feels safe taking steps. The book encourages micro-movements.  Progress measured in inches still moves you forward.
3. Honor resistance as a guardian, not an enemy.
   Resistance usually formed during a time when it was necessary for survival. When resistance is respected rather than fought, it often softens on its own.
4. Separate your wound from your identity.
   One reason people feel stuck is because pain has quietly become part of who they believe they are. The book reminds readers: You are not your trauma, your past, or your coping strategies. 
5. Allow meaning to come later.
   The book is clear: purpose cannot be rushed. If someone is still in pain, they don’t need to “find the lesson” yet. Healing comes first; meaning follows. Trusting that timing removes pressure and reduces shame.
   Above all, the book offers this reassurance:   Being stuck does not mean you are broken. It often means you are standing at the threshold of change.
   From Wounds to Purpose doesn’t ask readers to push through resistance—it invites them to listen to it, honor it, and gently move with it, trusting that even slow steps are still steps toward freedom.

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