The Devil in Dysfunction

We all say it, sometimes with a laugh, and even a little pride: “We all have weaknesses.” It’s become such a common mantra that we drop it in job interviews like a badge of self-awareness. We joke about how our spouses “complete” us by compensating for the things we don’t do well. It’s cute, it’s even endearing, but it’s not the whole truth. When I was twenty, during my pre-marital counselling, I learned something that changed my life: the difference between a weakness and a dysfunction. And if no one ever told you this, let me share what I’ve come to understand, both painfully and personally.

Weaknesses are areas we don’t naturally excel in because of how we’re wired, our temperament, and our personality makeup. They’re part of our design. For me, that looks like being hopelessly direction-challenged, unathletic, over-analytical, deeply uncomfortable with disorder, and overly suspicious. Even if I work on these things, they will not likely become strengths. They’re just my “default settings”… the quirks that make me, me.

But dysfunctions? That’s a whole different beast. Dysfunctions are learned behaviours, damaged patterns, picked up through upbringing, trauma, culture, fear, and survival. Unlike weaknesses, dysfunctions can and must change.

Here are a few of mine: I yell when I want to feel heard. I struggle to trust, especially men, because trustworthy male role models have been rare in my life. I have the potential to write people off without remorse, convince myself I’m right, and label it as “protecting my peace.” I hoard, not out of stewardship, but out of fear, scarcity mentality dressed up as frugality. I overthink every decision until I’m paralysed. I’m quick to defend and slow to reflect. And I often mistake being “right” for being righteous. Sound familiar?

I live by this truth: “Whatever you excuse, you keep.” And I’ve had to become aggressive about not excusing my dysfunction. Dysfunction is often how our inner child stays protected, but the cost is high and shows up in our lives as emotional stunting, spiritual distance, broken relationships, and missed potential. We armour up with defensiveness, control, detachment, perfectionism, and independence. But under all that? There’s often just a scared little girl or boy, trying not to be hurt again.

The enemy doesn’t need to destroy you; he just needs to convince you that your dysfunction is your identity. But God knows better, and He’s calling us higher. Whenever my life feels like a mess of painful patterns, I go back to my Heavenly Father and ask Him to sift me, to reveal what needs pruning, to call out what doesn’t honour Him and to strip away what doesn’t serve the purpose He placed on my life.

Have you ever truly wondered why God said, “It is not good for man to be alone?” I’ve discovered that one of the biggest reasons is that real transformation, lasting healing, happens in the context of relationships. It’s in those hard, honest, committed spaces where God peels back our layers and reshapes us into someone who can bear fruit, not just surviving, but thriving.

The most dangerous thing isn’t dysfunction, it’s being unaware of it. Have you allowed God to show you yours?

Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit, He takes away; and every branch that continues to bear fruit, He repeatedly prunes, so that it will bear more fruit, even richer and finer fruit.~ John 15:2 (AMP)

Have you ever done something with the best intentions, only to watch it go wrong? Yeah… me too. As I continue walking with the Lord, I’ve learned something sobering: I often run with His why, the beautiful, pure motive from His heart, but I rush ahead before allowing Him to shape my how. And the truth is, my “how” is often corrupted by my dysfunction.

And when we live this way, excusing, justifying, or spiritualising our dysfunction, we block ourselves from growth. We have no room in our hands to receive what God is trying to give us, because we’re clutching so tightly to broken patterns that never served us to begin with. Dysfunction robs us, quietly, consistently and deeply. Its greatest theft is this: it stunts our growth. Here’s how:

Dysfunction Breeds Anger.

Anger is rarely just anger. It’s almost always hurt in disguise, pain dressed up in armour. That means anger isn’t a primary emotion but a symptom. Most of us don’t want to sit with our souls long enough to find out where and why we are hurt. Instead of pausing to ask ourselves, “Where am I really hurt?”, we lash out, posture and perform. Somehow, it feels safer to be “strong and angry” than to admit we are vulnerable and broken.

The danger is that in this state, we can’t receive God’s love. Why? Because the majority of the time, God’s love is packaged as correction. When you’re living from a place of anger and defensiveness, you’ll reject His correction, mistaking it for rejection. I’ve been there, where every loving nudge from God, or the people He sends, feels like a personal attack because my dysfunctions made it hard to separate correction from condemnation.

What do you do when the God of the Universe asks you, just like he asked Cain, “Why are you angry? What do you do when God calls you out and tells you that you’re responding to the situation from a place of dysfunction rather than a place of identity as His loved child? Healing can only begin when we answer God honestly, no flinching or faking it.

Dysfunction Kills Our Teacher.

When we cling to dysfunction, we sabotage the uncomfortable moments God sends to transform us. We silence the teachers who don’t flatter us. God uses His Word to teach us, and often, He uses the people He has placed in our lives. The problem is, these teachers come disguised as flawed people with unfiltered feedback. God uses imperfect vessels, and yes, sometimes, correction will come from someone else’s dysfunction. But will you throw it all out because the package wasn’t pretty? Or will you ask God, “Is this You, Lord, trying to shape something in me?”

In this season of my life, my greatest teachers are my children and my failures. I love my children fiercely, yet parenting them exposes the unhealed little girl still living inside me. Every meltdown, every hard moment becomes another invitation to return to my Father for more pruning… more becoming. I used to despise failure, but now I let it humble me. Why? Because I’ve learned that confronting the mediocrity in my life challenges the greatness that God placed within me.

Dysfunction Settles for the Applause of Man.

Let’s be real… people are easy to impress. They’ll clap for our charisma. They’ll praise our performance. They’ll fall for the facade. But God? God doesn’t applaud mediocrity. He only honours our reflection of Him. He’s not fooled by our filters, titles, or achievements, and He’s not moved by how “gifted” we are. He’s moved when we look more and more like Jesus. The thing is, spiritual growth is not automatic, though I wish this were the case. It’s not a by-product of age, and it’s not guaranteed by salvation; it’s a daily death to dysfunction and a radical pursuit of Christlikeness. It’s God, in His wisdom, taking us on a journey and teaching us to be moved only by His approval, His affection and His applause.

Dysfunction may have explained your past, but it has no business dictating your future. God is not calling us to manage our dysfunction, He’s calling us to lay it down. This means that we stop making excuses for cycles we were never designed to stay in, we get brutally honest with ourselves, and we grow.

I challenge you to humbly ask God this week, “What dysfunction have I excused as part of my personality, and what am I holding onto that You want to strip away?” Then lean in, let Him correct you and let Him prune you. I pray that, as you do, you realise that there is fruit waiting to burst out of your life, and dysfunction is the dead branch standing in its way.