When you’re going through a rough time, someone is bound to quote, “Time heals all wounds.” I guess the truth of that depends upon what kind of a wound you have. If its one that has been cleaned out and properly taken care of during the healing process, time does seem to do its magic.
I can’t help but think of my eleven year old son, who, last fall, got a three inch gash right above his knee. He thought it was kind of cool to be able to see the fat, but I thought being able to see down to the bone was just nasty. It took so many stitches, both inside and out, we didn’t even count them. There is no way that particular wound would have healed with just time.
Wounding is an easy thing that happens to all of us. I’ve had two experiences that deeply wounded me as they both dealt with how I felt about myself and my efforts at ministry. With the first, time actually did help to heal the wound.
I remember about a year after the first incident, I was ironing for my Grandmother in her basement. As I looked down at her dress, I thought about what had happened a year earlier, and for the first time, it didn’t sting. I felt pleasantly surprised.
The second incident, though, was a totally different story. After a year and a half, time had not helped at all, but in fact, I was a lot worse off than when everything initially happened. I thought I had cleansed the wound with forgiveness and prayer. But, in fact, I had let a bitter root grow up in that wound.
I wasn’t careful about letting my mind wander, and imagine, and pull me down into negative thinking. Several years before, I had learned to love God with my mind in terms of worrying. But, when this particular wound occurred, I didn’t put into practice the same tools I had at my disposal when I was tempted to worry.
I believed time had begun to heal this second wound, until I was put to the test. Yesterday when my son was telling me how his scab got opened up on his elbow, I remembered this part of my story. I guess boys have a way of reminding us about open wounds!
About a year after my spirit was wounded, I discovered that I still had a sensitive scab. We were on our way to a family dinner and decided to drop off an item at a friend’s house. As we pulled up to the driveway, Ron and I noticed the cars of my offenders parked on the street. Ron glanced over at me and said, “Honey, we can do this later.” I said, “No, I’m fine. I’ll be ok.” Well, I wasn’t.
That day I experienced my first migraine headache. I was disgusted that after all that time, it literally made me sick to face all that had happened. Later, when we were back home, I was sitting on the couch by myself, and the Lord spoke to my heart. It was the season of Passover, and God used the elements on the seder plate to communicate with me. I was reminded of two of the six traditional elements on the seder plate: bitter herbs and matzah. God revealed to me that yes, indeed, I still had some bitter herbs in my life. One of the traditions at the Passover Seder is to eat the bitter herbs with the matzah, kind of like eating a sandwich. I understood that the bitterness of my hurt could only be dealt with by Jesus, the Bread of Life.
In actuality, time by itself does nothing to heal a wound, unless that wound is cleansed, stitched back up and watched diligently during the healing process. If the wound heals, then a scar might remain. But scars aren’t such a bad thing. They remind us of where we’ve been and where we are now. Most importantly, though, scars remind us of The Healer.
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photo(s) courtesy of Stock.XCHNG (http://www.sxc.hu)
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