be brave, dear one
it’s strange about a scar.
the flesh heals and holds the mark of what the body endured. most of the time we forget about it. my hands and my feet and my heart engage in the right now, in the everyday.
but sometimes. sometimes when the weather is melancholy or if i bump against a scar just so. just so. then i’m confused by the pain until i look and remember, oh yes. the healed wounds we all live with.
our design is such that our healed wounds can’t be denied, they can’t be hidden.
paul tepper says this ~
“what’s in question is not whether or not god will forgive you, it is will your heart become so hardened that you don’t care what he thinks.”
some scars are just mishaps, pointless. others are as deliberate as a scalpel. our bodies walk around like novels with stories under our clothes to point out and retell about the times long ago.
does the soul scar?
could it be that a hard heart is only so much scar tissue?
because i’ve no discolored, raised skin to prove it so you’ll have to take my word for it, but my soul has scars.
things can go untended. like your heart. i’ve remembered the body and the mind, but dissected my soul. i’ve heard it said that everyone is just moving towards or away from jesus in this life. and you know. you know.
my heart. has it grown hard enough not to care what god thinks? i care what god thinks, i do – but there are verses in the bible that talk about god’s thoughts being higher than ours – you know those ones? yeah. the lovely, the high and lofty thoughts of god.
but what about when he whispers his thoughts in your ear? how can i ascend to where god is? he tells me, he bends low. and the further on i go with him, the more unbelievable his requests become. the thoughts of god are meant to disassemble my every lie it seems. i’ve had to grow comfortable with being unexplainable. with being the odd. with saying the strange out of the blue. and it isn’t over yet.
a couple of years ago i started writing a book. it’s proven to be a much more complicated process than i intended it to be. it’s proven to be stake right through me and a tool for god to work in my life. it’s killing me is what i’m trying to say.
and that’s as it should be, i guess.
cs lewis has said that god isn’t interested in pruning the bad branches off of us, but rather he’s set to cut the whole tree down. this book is an axe in the hand of god. for the past few months i haven’t looked at it at all, but that time is running out as the words come to me and tap me on the shoulder. they’re waiting over there by the fireplace, waiting for stillness and waiting to be remembered.
it can feel like navel gazing, all this remembering of the past and the tears and the other side of that. but i’m not going to believe that lie this time. if not now, when? it’s important to write books. it matters to put words around the first time i realized god existed.
like an old-fashioned testimony service, i think god is in the business of healing the unseen wounds. i think he’s very uninterested in the sunday mornings that happen on the white blank page. god has a smile on his face every time some brave soul stands up and makes the invisible visible. when someone takes off their clothes and points out the soul scars and retells times from long ago.
but that doesn’t mean it’s easy, dear ones. all this being brave because i know god. and i know it’s not easy for you, either. i don’t want to spend a whole life making what has to be unmade. lord, be gracious to me, because like the song says,