A band aid won't do.
I don't know where to start, but that's just it, I must. Pretending will get me nowhere. Postponing won't do. How do I acknowledge all that has happened and simply bid adieu? I pack up my possessions, like my life, but it doesn't fit in a neat box or backpack like I somehow managed to force everything into.
My life is like a wound. The deeper it is, the worse it hurts. But it must be flushed out. It must be debrided. You can't ignore it. You get to choose to let Jesus help you nurse it into health, or let infection set in from refusing to acknowledge all that it is. My life is a constant refining. In the good times and bad. I'm getting rid of the gravel, or I'm letting it soak and growing new skin. In each case getting rid of the bad so that the good may come. Times of scrubbing have come so that I can see what it truly is. Am I ripped open to the bone, or is it just superficial? The deeper the wound, the more noticeable the scars. Am I marked, am I changed? And even scar tissue resists stretching, typically content to stick around and fights against the flesh. A tug of war that won't conform. But those scars tell a story. Like the ones flashing across my hand, I know they're there and am rudely reminded at times. But there's beauty in the scars. What was jagged and ripped open, now brought together. It shows a work, an act of God, because He is always at work in us. What I could have lost was gained. What I gained, I may not lose.
But how to remind myself that I am changed? When life as normal is again not normal once again. What do you do with that? When seemingly simple questions aren't simple. I'm home, but feel like a wanderer. I was a wander and now I'm home. What to make of all this? I wish I knew. How do you say goodbye and welcome all in the same breath? To let go of my grasp, yet also come with open hands? A starting over, a new beginning, a life that I must walk out here, though none understand. I must choose to be laid open. It likely won't be comfortable, it may be misunderstood, and maybe go unnoticed. But vulnerability shows the depth. And the depth is determined upon how far we're willing to dig into His depths. Change has begun, but how will I let it be covered up? A band aid won't do.
My life is like a wound. The deeper it is, the worse it hurts. But it must be flushed out. It must be debrided. You can't ignore it. You get to choose to let Jesus help you nurse it into health, or let infection set in from refusing to acknowledge all that it is. My life is a constant refining. In the good times and bad. I'm getting rid of the gravel, or I'm letting it soak and growing new skin. In each case getting rid of the bad so that the good may come. Times of scrubbing have come so that I can see what it truly is. Am I ripped open to the bone, or is it just superficial? The deeper the wound, the more noticeable the scars. Am I marked, am I changed? And even scar tissue resists stretching, typically content to stick around and fights against the flesh. A tug of war that won't conform. But those scars tell a story. Like the ones flashing across my hand, I know they're there and am rudely reminded at times. But there's beauty in the scars. What was jagged and ripped open, now brought together. It shows a work, an act of God, because He is always at work in us. What I could have lost was gained. What I gained, I may not lose.
But how to remind myself that I am changed? When life as normal is again not normal once again. What do you do with that? When seemingly simple questions aren't simple. I'm home, but feel like a wanderer. I was a wander and now I'm home. What to make of all this? I wish I knew. How do you say goodbye and welcome all in the same breath? To let go of my grasp, yet also come with open hands? A starting over, a new beginning, a life that I must walk out here, though none understand. I must choose to be laid open. It likely won't be comfortable, it may be misunderstood, and maybe go unnoticed. But vulnerability shows the depth. And the depth is determined upon how far we're willing to dig into His depths. Change has begun, but how will I let it be covered up? A band aid won't do.
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