browser icon
You are using an insecure version of your web browser. Please update your browser!
Using an outdated browser makes your computer unsafe. For a safer, faster, more enjoyable user experience, please update your browser today or try a newer browser.


Posted by on May 24, 2012

I don’t weep for the lost relationship anymore. I weep for the loss of wholeness. For this new brokenness in me that feels like it will never again be mended. My sister asks me if I’ve seen a cheesy Christian rom com that she just loves, and the next thing I know, I’m leaning over the kitchen sink, sobbing. I haven’t always been this wounded person who was afraid to reach out and yank some hope off the shelf.

A few weeks ago, I told a friend the story, and this telling was different. Up until now, so many of the explanations have been in passing. “I heard. What happened?” So I give the synopsis, they react, and I get to tell them how amazingly wonderful God has been to me. Which means I get to remember, and what a sweet remembrance it always is. (Ask me sometime, so I can tell you and be blessed by remembering? I promise to bless you back.)

I didn’t think it would feel any different to go back over the details with a new person. So I ran headlong into it and as it all spilled out, I realized: this happened. To me. This insanely tragic thing that I’d read about and thought would certainly not be the end of my story – it had happened. And it had scrawled a giant, unforgiving THE END across that stash of hope I’d been clutching for so long. And I’m different because of it. I kept myself through countless fearful days, proved my character time after agonizing time, only to wind up, in the end, altered. I felt a harrowing sadness at the new realization that this savagely deep wound was more than a glancing blow to the chest. I wrestled long and hard, until I had to be taken out at the hip. And it has crippled me. Perhaps irreversibly.

But this I call to mind, and therefore, I have hope. Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed…

…By the hurts that threaten to define the remainder of your existence.
…By the regret that can keep you spinning in meaningless circles.
…By the fear that hands you brick after brick so you can build that impenetrable wall around your heart.

…for His compassions never fail…

…when the one you trusted to protect you does you the greatest harm.
…when your worth is so mercilessly questioned.
…when you ask yourself if maybe they were right.

They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.’

…because He is healing me.
…because He is protecting me.
…because He is.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *