Jesus healed the sick, but I don't believe that was his primary mission. In fact, He made plain His own purpose for us at the very beginning of His ministry by quoting the words of the prophet Isaiah in the synagogue in Nazareth: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He has anointed Me to preach the gospel to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed; to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord."
"Brokenhearted" . . . . yes. . . been there, done that . . . still there sometimes. "Heal" . . . not so sure about that. We read about healings in the Bible, and we're so desperate for our own healing, or the healing of those we love, that we demand that it be . . . physical, observable, measurable, permanent. . . shouldn't we assume that the powerful love of an Almighty God would agree this is a top priority?
But, 'the older I get, the more I realize I don't know', and I'm so blessed when something that I've read for years suddenly speaks to me in a new, fresh way. The Bible study that I'm currently doing on the book of Luke prompted me to check out the Strongs' concordance explanation for the Hebrew word translated 'heal' - rapha means "to mend (by stitching), to cure, repair thoroughly, make whole, conveys the idea of restoring something to a useful state."
"Heal the brokenhearted" - stitch up the heart, repair it so that it can once again be used as it was intended? Yes, please.
I recently had minor surgery; under local anesthesia, my doctor cut my skin, removed what needed to be removed, and then stitched the skin back together. The stitches are gone now, but the visible scars remain. . . the bruising continues where the blood leaked from my veins . . . the marks left by the needle still obvious. The surgeon assured me, though, that healing would continue; the scars and the pain would fade with time.
I suppose our hearts must go through a very similar process: stitching is painful and takes time; recovery involves bruising, pain, scars, pain, tears, pain . . .all with the goal of being restored to a state where the heart can be used for the purpose for which it was created.
Joni Eareckson Tada says, "the more you learn of Him, think of Him, fill your eyes with Him, the more you find the comfort you crave in your brokenness . . . and who can measure the impact or put a value on how God will work?" Once again, I'm reminded that God's ways are not our ways. I'm the child, He's the Father. . . the Father who can be trusted even when I don't understand what He's doing.
Yes, I needed a fresh look at godly healing. Life on this earth was never intended to be permanent . . . but life is meant to be eternal. Matt Redman sings about this with beautiful lyrics: "Scars and struggles on the way, but with joy our hearts can say, 'never once did we ever walk alone'. You are faithful, God."
Monday, February 17, 2014
Friday, January 10, 2014
Thoughts on Scars
There's a one inch scar on the outside of my right forearm. It's hard to ignore. When I'm driving, when I'm on the computer, when I'm eating, when I'm not wearing long-sleeved shirts (which in Texas is most of the time), I see that scar. It doesn't hurt. It's just a small, very pinkish white line, on my arm - and it reminds me to keep all body parts away from the coils of a hot oven! It doesn't hurt, but it reminds me of searing pain.
I also have scars on my eyes due to a recent minor surgery. They looked pretty bad the first week after the surgery . . . I didn't leave the house that week, faithfully applied ice packs every 20 minutes, and smeared ointment over the glaring thick red lines left by my doctor's scalpel. He instructed me not to use any make-up around my eyes or cover them with bandages.
The second week, though, the make-up went back on and I left the house. Friends remarked, "I can't even tell you had surgery." Well, considering they were looking through my eyeglasses and a few layers of beige foundation, I guess that's not surprising . . . but my scars are still there.
Yesterday, I talked with a beautiful young woman who started sobbing as she told me about her move from her mom's house to a friend's house. "I need to find out who I am. I need to learn to love myself," she explained as she talked about the verbally toxic relationship she had with her mother, a woman she described as one who spent her life using verbal manipulation and criticism to control her daughter . . . and left scars.
My husband spent some time working at Walter Reed Army Medical Center a few years ago. That place is filled with scars . . . glaring, deep, frightening, open, painful scars. And there are just as many scars that can't be seen - scars in the mind, in the heart, in the blood, in the very core of a person's being - glaring, deep, frightening, hidden, open, painful scars. The hospital is also filled with wonderfully amazing doctors, therapists, counselors, psychiatrists, chaplains who work tirelessly at easing the impact . . . of scars.
I have a few friends who remember Allison's birthday each year, who send messages filled with their precious memories of my daughter . . . and there have been many others in my life who weren't afraid, who invited me to wash off the make-up, remove all the coverings, reveal the wounds . . . the scar.
A Filipino Christian was quoted in Christianity Today (Jan 2014) as saying, "We prayed the typhoon would not be strong. The Lord did not answer our prayer." His new prayer: "Increase our capacity to respond." When prayers aren't answered, wounds are inflicted, scars are born - may we pray, "Lord, ease the impact of the scar and increase our capacity to respond."
I also have scars on my eyes due to a recent minor surgery. They looked pretty bad the first week after the surgery . . . I didn't leave the house that week, faithfully applied ice packs every 20 minutes, and smeared ointment over the glaring thick red lines left by my doctor's scalpel. He instructed me not to use any make-up around my eyes or cover them with bandages.
The second week, though, the make-up went back on and I left the house. Friends remarked, "I can't even tell you had surgery." Well, considering they were looking through my eyeglasses and a few layers of beige foundation, I guess that's not surprising . . . but my scars are still there.
Yesterday, I talked with a beautiful young woman who started sobbing as she told me about her move from her mom's house to a friend's house. "I need to find out who I am. I need to learn to love myself," she explained as she talked about the verbally toxic relationship she had with her mother, a woman she described as one who spent her life using verbal manipulation and criticism to control her daughter . . . and left scars.
My husband spent some time working at Walter Reed Army Medical Center a few years ago. That place is filled with scars . . . glaring, deep, frightening, open, painful scars. And there are just as many scars that can't be seen - scars in the mind, in the heart, in the blood, in the very core of a person's being - glaring, deep, frightening, hidden, open, painful scars. The hospital is also filled with wonderfully amazing doctors, therapists, counselors, psychiatrists, chaplains who work tirelessly at easing the impact . . . of scars.
I have a few friends who remember Allison's birthday each year, who send messages filled with their precious memories of my daughter . . . and there have been many others in my life who weren't afraid, who invited me to wash off the make-up, remove all the coverings, reveal the wounds . . . the scar.
A Filipino Christian was quoted in Christianity Today (Jan 2014) as saying, "We prayed the typhoon would not be strong. The Lord did not answer our prayer." His new prayer: "Increase our capacity to respond." When prayers aren't answered, wounds are inflicted, scars are born - may we pray, "Lord, ease the impact of the scar and increase our capacity to respond."
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