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Deep Wounds Require Deep Healing

Deep Wounds Require Deep Healing

April is National Poetry Month and I’ve been sharing on my Facebook some of the selections I’ve written over the years.  Poetry is usually something personal, although I often write what I call “perspective” poems – poems I write from the “voice” of someone else whose experience I imagine or sympathize.  I’ve posted some personal ones, and choose to keep others tucked away.  It’s difficult to share the stuff that comes from the deep places of the heart, especially with people whose response will likely remain unknown.  It’s “too hard” to let the world see our wounds, isn’t it?

Woundedness is something we all experience and something we all try to hide from ourselves and others.  But it’s always there, like a basement door we shove a large piece of attractive furniture in front of – a curio cabinet filled with dainty things, delicate and beautiful knickknacks, sentimental pictures from “happier” times.  That’s what we’d prefer to look at in our souls, what we’d have others see instead of the door we’ve chosen to bolt and disguise.

That basement – and we all have one – harbors the ills done to us and the pains we’ve experienced.  Things we’ve done to others dwell there also. Woundedness, brokenness, deep emotional pain, even deeper soul pain.  How foolish to think it would go away, but we believe it.  No one fools the self better than the self.  We put our little band-aids on gashing wounds and half-severed limbs and store them in a sea of forgetfulness.  But the sea always churns what is in it, and throughout our lives things happen which bring those hidden pains to surface.

It is what we choose to do with them at that point which matters. In fact, it’s a matter of life and death.  But what if I’m a Christian? I’m not going to die spiritually if I ignore the things that are too hard and too big to ever fully go away? I get along just fine.  There is no use in digging up the past. God will heal me when I get to heaven anyway.

Yes, we might have a functioning and successful life. Work and family might be as ‘together’ as it can possibly be.  But I doubt that anyone reading this would deny that at least one thing in the ‘basement’ occasionally makes a sound, asking and sometimes demanding to get out.  We know how powerful it is.  We know how damaging it would be if we moved the curio and dared to touch fragile fingers to aging, rusted locks. We don’t even think that God could take care of the past, and even if he could, we don’t want to experience healing because that means pain.

Good news – God is the most experienced heart surgeon around with a long-standing reputation.  And he is gentle. Isaiah 42:3 says “A bruised reed he will not break, a smoldering candle he will not snuff out …” God’s knowledge of us coupled with the power of his love and character (tender, merciful, kind, compassionate, patient) is exactly what we need.  He knows when to push forward and when to pull back in such a way that pain will be minimized.  He won’t let us suffer in the healing process beyond what is endurable, and the healing ointment of the Holy Spirit and Comforter will ease whatever pain happens in the process.

It’s worth it.  Without deep healing for those deep wounds, we do die on some level.  And if we’re choosing to live as crippled Christians, yes, we may feel fine and we’ll still go to heaven, but our pain serves to limit us, and those limitations and hindrances could mean the spiritual death of not just one person, but many.  In our wounded state, there are people who cannot be reached.  I wasted years of my life living with wounds, and only now am I seeing how detrimental that was.  I was so inhibited from reaching out to people who need to know who Jesus really is.  I look at where they are in life now and wonder how they might be different if I was in a stronger and more healed position to have met them when and where they needed it. Would they know Jesus by now?

Well, enough of that.  Here’s a poem in honor of National Poetry month and one that touches on this very topic.  I hope I’ll keep reaching out to the Gentle Surgeon, who also happens to be a Loving Father, and I hope you will too.

Blessings,

Cafe Girl

 

A Bruised Reed He Will Not Break

How do You hold a fragile bird that’s fallen from a tree?
How do You touch a tender nerve when You perform a surgery?
How do You mend a broken bone without breaking the remains?
How do You heal a wounded soul with hidden unknown pains?

How do You soothe the crying child afraid of all around?
How do You sift through pounding rain to guide one drop aground?
How do You work the needle quick to sew and patch the hole?
How do You mold the shattered glass into something new and whole?

I am the bird, the nerve, the bone, the soul, the child that screams
I am the drop that’s falling fast, the cloth that’s ripping at the seams
I am the glass that’s on the edge, that fears the break and fears the heat
I am the one who needs You now, the bruised reed at Your feet

Freedom In Expression

Freedom In Expression

Freedom of expression is an amazing gift, one that is given to all people.  It is the loosening of the inner self into the outer world, which creates relationship with the outer world and gives meaning and connection to self and others.  It synthesizes the self, bringing broken pieces together to form a more perfect, more beautiful whole.  People express themselves through speaking, writing, dancing, music, and art.  By choosing to express themselves, they are being creators, fashioning something new and unique from internal elements into something tangible which others can receive.

There is vulnerability in this kind of creation, this freedom of expression.  The self then becomes ‘on display’ so that others not only have the chance to receive it, but the choice to critique it.  The risk of freedom is worth it though.  Without expression, the self withers because it’s composition is fundamentally relational. Therefore, ‘give me liberty or give me death’, for I cannot truly live unless I have expression and the freedom it brings.

Obviously as a blogger, my favorite way to express myself is through writing.  One of my favorite kinds of writing is poetry, although it seems several years since I last produced a poem. Given what I’ve stated about the risk of expression – the critique of the creation and the critique of the self – I am choosing to loose upon the world my vulnerability, because through it someone else may connect with what I’ve written.  It may give voice to a similar experience and help another synthesize that experience, to look within their own self to process, deal with, and heal.

In honor of April being National Poetry Month, here is a poem from 7 years ago but 30 years in the making with many more years left before healing.  However, synthesis is under way for me and I continue to grow more whole and more beautiful from the inside, where it cannot fade with time.

 

Beautiful

I want to be beautiful – I always have
But I don’t know what happened, not exactly
I remember vaguely some words from the past
Spoken to mom, did they make me uncomfortable?
‘She’s a looker, Barb – you better watch out’
 
But even then I couldn’t receive it
Compliments don’t take easy here
Timidity and shyness were part of my smallness
Which remained for lack of a better love
Because only love can build a person
 
I am small on the inside, just to clarify
You see, for some reason I grew more than
I care to admit – I got big, like emotionally pregnant
Putting things in my mouth, I was a stuff stuffing stuffer
Food filled my heart so that “I” wouldn’t fall out
 
I spent summers in New York where I’d go from the split
To spend time with dad, or at least at his place
I’ve got memories of friends that I liked to visit
Childhood was great playing dodge ball in the street,
Riding bikes or going to the gorge
 
The gorge … gorge, and not gorgeous – that became me
My eyes are still hazel – they still look to be seen
My skin is still tan, and still awkward to me
My hair is less blond and shorter these days
How time has changed me, but it still feels the same
 
For all I ever wanted was to just be beautiful
To hear a few words uttered from a man
A ghost of a man who was emotionally gone
Whose three little words seemed only to signal
The end of another indifferent phone call
 
Oh to be beautiful and  treasured as such
Little girl hearts don’t ask for much
Just to be seen and valued and pursued
But the damage is done and the deficit remains
What began at the root falls like fruit from the tree
 
And people still sometimes compliment me
Not quite so emphatically as in my youth
I could blame it on age, or maybe my weight
But either way doesn’t matter, for even if I were a
Smoking hot “10”,  all I’d really want is to just be beautiful

Daily Prompt: Express Yourself

Freedom in a pen / MC’s Whispers

Daily Prompt / myjourneyeveryday

Daily Prompt / benjaminsolak

The Creator God and His Gift To Us / meanderedwanderings

I teach! / Perpleus’ Blog

 

 

Grace And A Poem

In my previous post I mentioned that since Christ truly came into my heart I have been experiencing grace on entirely new levels.  Going from ‘head grace’ to ‘heart grace’, from understanding and appreciating the concept of grace to feeling and living in a state of grace might not seem like a radical jump, but it is.  I didn’t intentionally mess up the last few years of my life with some poor choices just because I was now ‘saved’. I know all about the verse that says not to use our freedom in Christ as a license to sin.  But something subconscious was going on in me.  I had spent 30 years pursing an understanding of God, and through this hoping for an experience of him.  I had been straining for the experience of God and all that it entails.  When finally God was within me, I think my entire soul shifted and relaxed.  And while I grew for a few years after this, I also hit a few years of temptation and disobedience which landed me not in a pit judgement as expected but instead a garden of grace.

I want to spend some intimate ‘coffee time’ with Jesus on the subject of grace and the difference between an enlightenment of grace versus an experience of grace.  But until those thoughts find their way into this blog, I want to share a poem I wrote several years ago.  It is the only poem of mine, out of roughly 130 poems, which gives me goose bumps when I read it.  Specifically there are a few lines that I notice cold chills washing over me every single time.  I know this is the Spirit of God.  I know that something of mercy and grace are so powerfully revealed in certain places of the poem.  Perhaps it is my own experience of finally living in a state of grace and ‘getting it’ from the inside out rather than the outside in that causes this effect upon me.  That partially may be the case.  However, I think the Author of grace was behind the penmanship far more than the author of the poem.  I pray God’s blessing upon you who read it, that this very kind and personal God so intent upon knowing you and I would unravel the intellectual chords of understanding and reveal the sweet experiential reality of his grace. That he would show us all how mercy, grace, love, and forgiveness trump sin and judgement every single time.

Reflections On The Grandeur Of An Almighty God

In our sinfulness and brokenness, we expected judgment
Nay, we envisaged wrath!  Great peals of thunder
On our deserving heads – Great God
Cracking the skies with just whips whose stinging tips
Ought reach our inner depths

We waited for lightening in holy terror
It’s jagged breaks to blast our night
It’s terrible veins to illumine error
And sudden flashes to wrong our ‘right’
To expose the thoughts and intents of our hearts

But You didn’t live up to our expectation
You entered our world in disguised fashion
In smallness of form and humble array
You rocked our world in a different way
And split through history with resounding love

We weren’t prepared for the power of subtlety
We weren’t accustomed to this measure of greatness
Glory held different images in our minds
We locked ourselves in double bind as we
Wrestled with the idea of a forgiving God

Push forward now to the end of time – press our imagination further
See how it all comes together!  See Him standing in brilliance!
See the myriads shimmering in the light of His countenance,
With love and peace and joy and truth clothing them for all eternity –
Oh praise God, who lifts our souls from conviction to serenity!

2006

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