Bring on the Neosporin

"By his wounds you have been healed."  1 Peter 2:24

My daughter, Hannah, recently had her very first little injury.  She was running on a hardwood floor with socks on, slipped, and grazed her leg on a wooden ledge.  At first she was limping around and a little upset because of the pain, but seemed like she could shake it off.  It was not until she was able to remove her clothing and actually look at her leg that she had a moment.  The sight of torn skin and a tiny bit of blood had her panicking.  She cried, she whimpered, and then came the neosporin.  As her mom, I carefully cleaned it, creamed it, and bandaged it-ever so carefully.  I was intentional about reassuring her and being incredibly gentle so as to be a source of comfort to her.  In that moment, I wanted to steward well the assignment of being a mommy.  I wanted to nurture and comfort my daughter who was hurting and afraid. 

This got me thinking about all of my wounds that I carry deep inside.  I thought how if we will allow Him, our great big God will pull us up in His lap and slather on the antibiotic ointment.  Sometimes we like to throw a band-aid on things and forget they exist.  We just carry it around with us and pretend not to notice it's there. 

I have four children. My first two children are twins so I have been pregnant three times.  That's three deliveries.  All three times I had a caesarean section.  I wish I could say that I had knew what it was like to experience labor and the natural birth of a child, but  I don't.  For many years after my twin daughters were born I really struggled with this fact.  I felt inadequate somehow.  I later realized that it didn't matter.  My body held them, nurtured them and allowed them to grow until they were healthy enough to burst into this world.  And yes, there was pain.  If you have had a c-section you know what I am talking about.  Feeling like you have had your insides ripped out isn't pleasant.  And yes, I have a scar.  A six inch wide scar that is a daily reminder of the pain I experienced, but more importantly, the life it brought. 

Jesus still has his scars.  The scars that gave the whole world life.  They are a symbol of his death-and resurrection.  It is only after experiencing the excruciating pain of being wounded in the flesh that he was able to live, that we were able to live.  These scars are a physical manifestation of beauty for ashes.  

People want to hide their emotional scars.  I know I do.  Sometimes I want to pretend I don't even have any.  I feel like we should expose them somehow.  Like badges of honor.  We tend to focus on the offense rather than the healing that can take place because of it.  I feel like instead of bringing shame and guilt, our scars should be ....a shouting testimony of what we have experienced-the pain, the suffering, the anguish, the healing, and then, the life.  It is by these scars we can prove we have a Healer.  We can say we had a heavenly Father walk with us through the fire, carry us even, and bind up all the brokenness.  We can say He came along with His tenderness and gently cleaned us up, spread out the ointment and reassured us that we would be alright. 

Sometimes I wonder if we are already healed, we just don't know how to receive it.  Our flesh cries out because it doesn't like to be uncomfortable.  We usually don't want to hurt.  Sometimes we do and we wallow in our misery.  Nonetheless, there is healing.  There is a Comforter who gives us His word so we can make it through the journey and His Holy Spirit so we can know which way to go.  Once the sting wears off and the bandages are removed, the Lord tends to our broken hearts and binds them all up again.   He gives us strength and clarity and a new song to sing. He gives us hope in knowing we can make it to the next day and slowly, but surely, the days seem to get a little easier. Then, as time passes, our scars begin to fade.  They slowly shrink down until we are almost unable to remember them anymore.  They are always there, but they no longer hurt when we see them.  They no longer bring the bitter sting of the awareness that we have been wounded.  They no longer require regular bandaging or care.  They simply serve as a reminder that we serve a gracious God who is loving enough to meet us where we are and bring healing to the depths of our soul.  They remind us of all the places we have been and the new mercies that we have received day by day.  

They remind us that we survived.

Father, thank you that you see right through me even when no one else does.  Thank you for loving me enough not to let me abide in my sorrow. That you call to me out of my brokenness, out of my pain to receive healing.  Your mercies are indeed new every morning and bring such hope.  I know that you can redeem all my yesterdays and make this day into something glorious, into something new.  You ARE my healer, you give only life and you give each of us something worth living for.