Pain softens our hard hearts. It opens us to a more genuine and reverential love for God. It causes us to remember each other and our need for courageous love.
For the Hurting, there is good news. In seasons of grief God is able to sow seeds of hope that, in season, spring up as praise and joy over new life thoroughly germinated. As we trade in the old armor pieces--selfishness, vanity, comfort, pride, self-sufficiency--He robes us from the inside, out with right-standing and security.
For the not-Hurting, there is perspective. In her thoughtful and loving Letters to the Wounded {#2}, Ann Voskamp writes, "It is the wounded ones who makes us heal and the hurting ones who make us honest and it is the broken ones who put us back together again and it is the scarred ones who make the Body of Christ sensitive."
Love God and love each other.
On a given day there are so many ways we might choose to handle pain--yours, mine, theirs. I think most choices end safely, "no harm no foul," but I am happy to share the lingering effects of pain transformation + courageous love as they were choicely paired on a given Tuesday.
We walked into a clothing store- she, widowed, and I, barren. It was a mini-retreat; a time to enjoy life because heartbreak has taught us that life is special.
For the Hurting, there is good news. In seasons of grief God is able to sow seeds of hope that, in season, spring up as praise and joy over new life thoroughly germinated. As we trade in the old armor pieces--selfishness, vanity, comfort, pride, self-sufficiency--He robes us from the inside, out with right-standing and security.
For the not-Hurting, there is perspective. In her thoughtful and loving Letters to the Wounded {#2}, Ann Voskamp writes, "It is the wounded ones who makes us heal and the hurting ones who make us honest and it is the broken ones who put us back together again and it is the scarred ones who make the Body of Christ sensitive."
Love God and love each other.
On a given day there are so many ways we might choose to handle pain--yours, mine, theirs. I think most choices end safely, "no harm no foul," but I am happy to share the lingering effects of pain transformation + courageous love as they were choicely paired on a given Tuesday.
We walked into a clothing store- she, widowed, and I, barren. It was a mini-retreat; a time to enjoy life because heartbreak has taught us that life is special.
Discerning fingers rapidly sifted hangers, pausing only periodically to graze the length of a fabric and consider its potential, picture its fit at work or play. In a sea of black & white, rich colors and playful shapes caught our eyes. Too daring? Too safe? Indecision. Uncertainty. Which one of these is me? The new me?
We met Julie, a soft-spoken and savvy, unfailingly helpful {sales}woman.
In small, curtained rooms we put on new clothes, looking ourselves over to see what Time and Pain and Healing had done. Does this look right? Is this me? Julie assessed quickly, expertly sized, exchanged, accessorized. From 'safe' to 'fun' to 'ridiculous,' garments flew about.
"That looks so good on you!"
"That is so fun!"
"I love that on you."
We said these things, we heard these things. We pondered their truth, taking in our shape, our condition, wrestling uncomfortable memories of what brought us to this place.
They told me, "You can wear anything; look at your body!" Joy.
"Too bad it doesn't work the way it's supposed to on the inside." Grief.
Seedlings of hope stirred in my heart:
The Lord will comfort [her] again and have pity on her ruins.
Her desert will blossom like Eden, her barren wilderness like the garden of the Lord. Joy and gladness will be found there.
Songs of thanksgiving will fill the air. 1
We told her, "You.look.amazing. Truly stunning." Joy.
She choked on the words until tears came down and said, "Without him at home, I don't have anyone to tell me I look nice anymore." Grief.
Hope stirring:
Father to the fatherless, defender of widows— this is God, whose dwelling is holy. 2
*We could have squared our shoulders, darted back into our rooms and pulled the curtains on oozing wounds.
*We might have started the game of comparison, "At least you have (a husband, stretch marks, children, a booming career)."
*We might have burrowed into ourselves: self-protected, guarded the story-in-progress.
*Or with a recitation of the old adage about clouds and silver linings, Julie could have pushed the moment away.
Instead, Beauty unfolded and Love had its moment.
Tears came, arms embraced. Broken hearts bled while courageous hands caught the overflow. Julie shared her own wounds, and we were able to cover and be covered with grace. Love reached out to touch Pain and ushered in Healing. Pain reached out in love and found Strength.
Our gravest disappointments lay scattered amidst piles of clothes. Our plans intertwined with His purpose.
Love God and love each other.
New clothes don't erase pain or make us {truly} beautiful, but that day they were expressions of hope and transformation, buds of praise and righteousness springing up, and an agent for love.
We've faced the hard thing, we've cried bitter tears. The Old has been stripped away and now we know what's precious. What we've sown in tears will be, for others, a lovely and refreshing harvest of healing. And He clothes us in the New; we are radiant and we are His.
My soul will exult in my God;
For He has clothed me with garments of salvation,
He has wrapped me with a robe of righteousness,
As a bridegroom decks himself with a garland,
And as a bride adorns herself with jewels. 3
1- Isaiah 51:3, NASB
2- Psalms 68:5, NASB 3- Isaiah 61:10, NASB
No comments:
Post a Comment