Yielding Up My Wounds (2017 Journal entry)

I know you, He says. You are not hidden from me.

You turn to false loves, but they cannot cure you. They cannot heal your wounds.

Seek me. Return and repent (vv. 3, 14-15, my paraphrase).

The past two years have reaped of bleeding wounds. Even worse, they were old wounds. To put it plainly, it was like I took a knife in my own hands and strategically cut them open.

The devastation of cancer, loss and waning friendships struck something in me. A fear, and anxiety that I would be left behind.

I would be abandoned.

Even at 37, I feel like a small child, forgotten and locked away, at times.

It is nonsensical.

I am a grown woman. But, you see, my heart was aching from these internal wounds that festered, yearning to be healed but refusing the balm of Divine ministry.  So, instead, a thick scar tissue formed and became a barrier to permanent healing and restoration. As a result,  the scar tissue grew and grew until it became so hardened that I took a knife and ripped it open…

But the gushing and throbbing pains that resulted did not cure me. Instead, they reminded me of the fresh agonies of life, and in a most childlike way, I  ran and….

I hid.

It was then, I discovered a void that expanded in me, an undiscovered wilderness land.

What do I do? Lord….I call and hear nothing. Even in your arms, I am unsettled.

I don’t want to live unsettled.

This is not what you have for me. This is not from you or because of you.

I know that:

You see me hiding…

You see me injuring myself.

And, you prowl around my heart like a lion, guarding my heart, thwarting my attempts to run and hide, and protecting me from a full on prodigal rebellion ….

God, I  know you are with me.  I  know you are inside my darkness, with me, holding me, and hedging me in from myself.

Today, I finally hear you.

And, you are saying, “Nothing can heal your wounds but me.”

O God,

Help me to stop injuring myself. Help me to stop ripping apart old wounds. Take this   hardened scar tissue and seeping wounds and regenerate it with new flesh.

I lift my sick and bruised and battered body to you….

I  allow you to minister to my self-inflicted wounds….

Balm of Gilead,

Here I am……

You’ve called me and I’ve come, Lord. I am ready to be healed.

Uncover my darkness  and contend with it like the conquering Lion you are.


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