“I Got This” (Famous Last Words)
There are three phrases that should immediately make you nervous:
“Don’t worry about it.”
“This won’t hurt.”
“I got this.”
“I got this” is not confidence.
“I got this” is a prophecy of pain.
It’s what Joseph said without saying it.
And it’s what I said… standing in my house… holding an old wooden mirror from Mexico… with tools I had no business touching.
“I got this” is usually followed by pain, prayer, and character development.
How My Trauma Began (With a Mirror)
My wife asked me to hang a mirror.
Not a complicated request.
Just a mirror.
She even lovingly suggested,
“Do you want to ask Curtis from church to help?”
Curtis.
From my church.
Absolutely not.
Because in that moment, something rose up in me:
Pride.
Delusion.
A deep, irrational confidence I did not deserve.
I said the words every pastor eventually regrets:
“No… I got this.”
Now for context:
I am a pastor.
I don’t build things.
I bless things.
These are sermon-holding hands.
Communion-passing hands.
Bible-turning hands.
These hands have never framed anything.
But like Joseph with his dream,
I grabbed the mirror.
I grabbed the tools.
And I grabbed confidence that had not been tested.
Five minutes later — attack.
A splinter entered my hand, snapped off, and lodged itself under the skin like it paid rent.
It didn’t visit.
It moved in.
The splinter always shows up after “I got this.”
Joseph Had a Dream. What He Lacked Was Maturity.
Joseph’s story doesn’t start in a pit.
It starts with confidence.
God gives him a dream — real, holy, God-breathed.
Joseph immediately gives himself a microphone.
“So… funny story… you’re all going to bow to me.”
And his brothers are like,
“Cool. Let’s sell him.”
God gives revelation early. Wisdom comes later. Pain fills the gap.
Joseph didn’t fall into the pit because of the dream.
He fell into the pit because he didn’t know what to do with it.
The Splinter Always Hurts Later
Here’s the thing about splinters:
They don’t hurt the most when they enter.
They hurt later.
When you ignore them.
When life keeps bumping them.
When other people unknowingly press on them.
I ignored mine.
Called it faith.
Showed up to church.
Then came the handshakes.
First handshake — internal screaming.
Second handshake — Jesus take the wheel.
By handshake number six I’m like,
“Is there a demon of grip strength in this church?”
Pain ignored doesn’t disappear — it schedules a comeback.
Joseph survives the pit.
Survives the prison.
Survives betrayal.
But when his brothers walk back into his life years later,
the Bible says he weeps so loudly the whole palace hears it.
Not because it just happened —Because it never got processed.
Pain Is an Experience — Not an Identity
Pain wants the microphone.
If you don’t deal with it, pain starts introducing you:
“Hi, this is John. He was hurt.”
“This is Joseph. He was betrayed.”
“This is you. Be careful.”
But Scripture never names Joseph by his trauma.
It names him by his fruitfulness.
Pain is loud — but it is not qualified to rename you.
Your wound can teach you. Don’t let it define you.
Stop Rehearsing What God Already Healed
Remembering is not the same as rehearsing.
Remembering says,
“Lesson learned.”
Rehearsing says,
“Let me tell you again… with tone… and reenactments.”
At some point, you’re not healing — you’re auditioning.
If you replay the pain more than the lesson, the pain becomes your pastor.
Joseph remembered the pit.
He just stopped living there.
Healing Always Asks One Question: “What’s Next?”
Joseph doesn’t name his sons:
“Betrayal” and “Trauma.”
He names them:
“God brought me out.”
“God made me fruitful.”
Moses doesn’t live in the basket.
Jesus doesn’t stay in the grave.
God never rescues people so they can build museums to the mess.
If God drew you out, He’s not asking you to camp there.
Healing isn’t forgetting — it’s freedom.
Not erasing the scar — just refusing to bleed again.
Final Word
“I got this” might be how the pain started…
But it’s not how healing ends.
Healing sounds more like:
“God, teach me.”
“God, remove the splinter.”
“God, what’s next?”
Let go of what hurt you. Keep what it taught you.
Because if God brought you through it,
He’s not asking you to live in it.
And your feet are already standing on new ground.
The Best Is Yet to Come,
Rev. John Roberts
I identify with this! There are things in my past that I was so sure I could handle—I got this! But no, I could not. But with God’s help, I forgave, moved past it, and learned from it! May I never think “‘I got this” again! But with God’s help, all things are possible!