Mirrors, Not Messiahs: Why We Need to Stop Putting Healers on Pedestals

One of the most damaging things we do in healing spaces is place healers on pedestals.

Or if you are a healer, act as if your shit doesn’t stink (yeah, I really said that).

Or compete with one another as if enlightenment is a contest.

We expect practitioners to never struggle.

Spiritual teachers to never have an ego.

Coaches to have perfect relationships.

Healers to be completely healed.

And when they inevitably reveal their humanity, or fall far from the image we created of them, we feel disappointed, betrayed, and sometimes even lost.

We begin questioning the teachings themselves, as if the messenger’s imperfections somehow invalidate the message. And it is good to question all messages.

And yet, very few people throughout history have practiced what they preach 100% of the time.

Not because they failed, but because they are human.

Some people truly have transcended some or much of their suffering and have beautiful wisdom to share.

Others may become attached to power, influence, money,  ego, or have some really toxic traits.

When we discover that, the disillusionment can be painful.

But perhaps that disillusionment serves a purpose.

Perhaps it is teaching us to stop giving our power away.

.Even Yeshua didn’t spend his time seeking out the most enlightened people in the room.

He sat with fishermen, tax collectors, whores, outcasts, doubters, the poor, the sick, and those society deemed unworthy. Not the other healers all the time.

The religious authorities of the day were often the very people he challenged.

Why?

Because transformation doesn’t happen through perfection.

It happens through humility.

It happens when we are willing to see ourselves honestly.

Maybe that’s why I struggle with the modern obsession of turning teachers, healers, and spiritual leaders into celebrities. The goal was never to become someone’s follower, or teacher.

The goal was to remember the divine within ourselves.

Yeshua didn’t point people toward himself as the destination.

He pointed them toward a way of being.

A way of loving.

A way of remembering.

To not be afraid to turn over tables when the corruption was blatantly obvious.

To question everything.

And perhaps that’s what true healers  are here to do as well.

Not gather disciples.

Not claim superiority.

Not get all the certificates and accolades…

But to stand as.a reminder to others of the light that has been within them all along.

To stop searching for perfect people and start looking for authentic ones and more importantly, to look inside themselves for the answers.

True healers are not here to heal you.

They are mirrors.

They help illuminate the places within yourself that are asking for attention. And in doing so, they often reveal their own work as well. After all, wisdom usually comes from somewhere. Most of us teach what we have lived.

The healer who has known grief will still grieve.

The teacher who understands fear will still get scared.

The guide who helps others navigate darkness will still encounter their own shadows.

Hopefully, when they do, they take accountability and continue the work, and not spiritual bypass for the sake of appearances.

Wisdom does not come from being flawless.

If you’re anything like me, wisdom comes from royally fucking things up, learning from it, and then sharing what you’ve discovered so someone else feels less alone when they face their own shadows.

It comes from looking in the mirror. Hard. And, questioning why I consider myself someone who can offer wisdom to begin with.

It comes from facing your humanity with honesty, humility, and courage.

Don’t trust people because they claim to have transcended being human, or they say catchy lines.

Trust people who are human enough to admit they haven’t.

Trust people who don’t pretend to have all the answers but continue showing up, learning, growing, and sharing what they’ve learned along the way, and are willing to listen more than they speak.

Perhaps the lesson isn’t that healers should be gods.

Perhaps the lesson is that they should be fellow travelers and community members willing to walk beside you in the trenches of the struggle.

None of us are responsible for someone else’s journey.

But all of us have gifts to share.

And when we stop looking for someone to save us, fix us, or heal us, we begin to remember something important:

The light we seek has always been within us.

We may feel broken, but all the pieces are still there, we might just need to call them back and start saying maybe the story of how this happened is important, but more-so what I’m going to do about it now, that I see a better way to be.

Healing is not becoming someone new.

It is remembering who you were before the world convinced you otherwise.

Awakening is not a destination.

It is not a mountaintop.

It is not a badge of spiritual superiority, or having it all figured out.

It is a lifelong practice of remembering, forgetting, and remembering again.

Of looking within.

Taking accountability.

Using discernment.

And recognizing that every person we meet is, in some way, a mirror.

Maybe the greatest spiritual lesson is not learning how to follow.

Maybe it’s learning how to listen.

To your intuition.

To your conscience.

To the quiet wisdom already living inside you.

To others that remind you of your worth.

To others you have hurt, and then try to choose other patterns to break that cycle, and show them you regret your actions.

And if sharing our gifts and our failures helps another soul along the way, that is a beautiful bonus.

If you made it to the end, thanks for reading.

You are so loved, friend.

🙏🏼💜