We equate wholeness with perfection, with having it all together, with success. Yet the meaning of wholeness is perhaps just the opposite.
Tag: healing (page 1 of 6)
What is your story?
We all have one. You know, the story that contains the good, the bad, the ugly of our journey that has led us to today. The story that pressed in on us, that chipped away at us, that left us a little more bruised and a little less brave to step into our future.
Revelation 21:5 (ESV) And He who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also He said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
Sometimes it is the hardest thing to stay as clay, soft and supple. Sometimes the cold is so bitter the safest thing to do is to bury wounds deep enough we never have to risk them seeing the light of day, of being exposed.
It happens sometimes. Most years Christmas is a time of joy, filled with decorations and celebrations, gatherings and festivities. Still, there are some years my journey to the manger feels more lonely, more overwhelmed, more soul-weary, and saddle-worn than I could have imagined.
It was a routine procedure. Nothing to worry about.
Rest. Typically not a word in my vocabulary.
I was coming up to the weeks before my vacation, barely hanging on by a thread. I didn’t even notice how tired I was. My body moved slowly, numbly in its predictable, mechanical motions of the day. Though I accomplished all of my responsibilities, it grew challenging to be present, much less to focus. I could hardly tell how cloudy my mind had become. How disconnected I felt. Unsteady.
Few people walk down the aisle at their wedding thinking about divorce. But it happens. The reality is that 5 in 10 marriages will end in divorce, and 3.8 in 10 evangelical Christian marriages will not survive, according to statistics.
Nights can be the worst. That’s when they steal in and threaten to pull me under. Panic attacks.
It was the perfect day for a wedding. Their eyes were filled with love and longing, their dreams diffused by the tint of their rose-colored glasses.
Rachel’s face was weary, her distracted glance seemed lost somewhere in the distance. She spoke of her life in fragments and whispers. Her story was both tragic and impossible. My heart wept for the child who endured such abuse, such profound neglect and who woke up years later with a lifetime of losses and a heart full of sorrow. Her emotions swelled just beneath the surface, though she worked fiercely to contain them.
PEACE FOR A LIFETIME
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