The father of lies would have me interpret my wounds as evidence of damaged goods, beyond repair, hopeless, destroyed beauty, marred beyond recognition. And I will confess that I wrestle with believing these lies.
In any given week you will find me with days of believing the lies, of mourning the conquest they seem to have won. But you will also find me with days of joy and triumph, sometimes tears of a human frame overwhelmed by the greatness of God’s love.
This last year has been a journey through the highest highs and lowest lows. I have seen God’s favor and blessing in my life as I write and tell of His story being worked out in me. But I have also gone through a season of flashbacks to childhood abuse, nightmares experienced awake and asleep. These are my darkest days.
I have never, in my life, experienced my soul juxtapositioned between words of life and memories of death.
So to say I am wounded is spot on. The deepest part of my soul has been chewed on by a vicious lion who sought me out to steal, kill and destroy. Yes, damage has been done.
But the sweetness of God, the beauty of the I AM, the grace given through the cross of Christ is healing me.
His words are ebbing their way into my darkest memories, the dirtiest of wounds, and He is purging out the sickness of lies with the crimson tide of His love.
But to taste His sweetness, see His beauty, and know the power of the Cross means I must journey into my darkness. I must face the deepest of pains; feel today what I couldn’t feel as a child. I must go where I fear. I must see what has set in motion coping mechanisms turned to expressions of sin.
And I am finding that this journey is hard, long and difficult… and I could never make it by myself. I can’t tell you the perfection of gifts that God has placed before, behind, above and below me.
They all have names. Yes, they are people, God’s people… whom God called to intercede for me, to listen, to war for my protection, to believe in the victory of the cross.
They see me…the real me…the redeemed me…the me that God designed before sin distorted his image. They tenaciously hang on to that vision and they speak it back to me, especially when I can’t see it. They hold high the banner of the cross, so when I fall, I look up and see hope.
And that’s what I hope YOU will find on Wounded~Healer~Warrior…
a banner of Hope, lifted high for you to see no matter where you are in your wounded-ness and in your healing.
I pray that this becomes a place where your vulnerability is tenderly cared for. I pray that your words, links, likes and shares become the banner that you hold high for someone else. I pray for a community of healing where we can say together…