Showing posts with label hopelessness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hopelessness. Show all posts

Sunday, July 3, 2022

Searing pain

Trauma has a way of weaving itself into every fiber of our being. 
It torments our thoughts, pollutes our feelings, and covers us with a blanket of shame that can feel suffocating.   
It breaks down our identity, clouds our sense of self. 
It lies to us, tricks us, and confuses us.  
It’s downright brutal. 
It sets up fires in the basement of our hearts and demands that we feed it day and night. 
The effects slowly creep into our no hearts and minds and become darn near impossible to snuff out. 
Its embers are so hot they can burn holes clean through our souls. 
The fire beckons us to come close. 
It’s as if the flames are begging to burn us up. 
They echo together, “You aren’t enough”. 
We cling desperately to the ladder, frantic to get out of the basement. 
If only we could climb the stairs and find our footing. 
We fight but we are weary. 
We fall, landing in the blistering heat of agony.
Our spirits crushed by the scorching flames of heartbreak and sorrow. 
Eventually it becomes hard to breathe. 
The smoke invades our lungs. 
Soot covers everything we see. 
Somewhere in the rubble we lose our hope. 
We succumb to the heat.
The fire suffocates any trace of life. 
It’s a grueling fight over life and death. 

Jesus knows the depth of searing pain that we suffer.
He knows the flames that tear right through our heart, 
breaking us wide open.  
He knows what it is to be wounded.
He knows what it is to be marred by someone else's sin.
He bore our sin on His back in the form of the cross, carrying us even unto death. 
His basement was the cross and our scorning was the flame. 
He too had His heart shattered.    
Even Jesus needed His Father to navigate the cross. 
He too has felt the anguish of the world’s harm.  
He loved us unto death despite our rejection. 
He walked straight through the fire just to get to us. 
Death doesn't get the final say. 
Jesus rose again on the third day.
His life blood pulses through our veins. 
We are freed from the clutches of death. 
Hope has come. We don’t have to live in the basement anymore. . 
His greatest pain became God's greatest glory.
Could it be that our greatest sorrows can become His greatest glory too? 


Saturday, July 2, 2022

He knows

 This week as I’ve remembered what things were like a year ago, I found myself sad and grieving. I just told a close friend yesterday that I just didn’t understand the darkness I went through and where God was at in it, that I knew He didn’t promise we wouldn’t suffer, He promised to be with us yet it’s been so hard to see Him in this.

I need the truth that I know in my mind to sink into my heart.
Today I read a writing on suffering and this scripture jumped out at me:
“… A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; …
Surely our griefs He Himself bore,
And our sorrows He carried {to the cross}…” (Isaiah 53:3-4).
He actually knows what our suffering feels like and He feels it with us. This is so comforting to me. I appreciate that He continues to expand my understanding of who He is and how much He loves me, and how far He will/has gone to show me that love.