LOVE boldly. RISK offense.

This post has absolutely nothing to do with sexual orientation.  But it has everything to do with faith.  I didn't mean to write this - it happened by accident.  I was supposed to write a 2 page paper on how I was going to work on my healing and spiritual growth.  Instead, this is what came out of me - a 3 page paper on how God has worked on my healing and spiritual growth.  My last post was on brokenness.  I felt like this story about healing would be a good follow-up.  To be honest, I hesitated to post it here.  But I want us to be able to talk about things that are important to us - and sometimes that just deals with life in general.  I hope you gain hope, strength, and belief from my story - no matter what part of the story you find yourself in.  So without further ado, here it is, a story of healing:
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In the midst of pain and brokenness, all you can think to do is to beg God for relief, to plead with him to take it away, and to implore him to bring you the healing that you so desperately need.  You lay there, in the battlefield, as gunshots ring around you, totally wounded and destroyed, completely unable to move, watching as you bleed uncontrollably, and you call out to him, “Lord, where are you?  What did I do to deserve this?  Help me here!  I’m dying.  Come to my rescue!” 

He is silent.  You are bleeding out.  Confusion sets in.  You start hallucinating, seeing and hearing things that aren’t real.  Your mind is shutting down.  You are dying, and you know it.  And you wonder where He has gone, when you need him the most.

And then it happens.  Suddenly He arrives.  He sweeps in.  There’s a faint recognition that he is speaking as he tends to you, but you can’t hear him. You’re losing consciousness and everything is echoing and overlapping now.  His lips are moving but you can’t understand the words. Nothing is registering.  You are blank, blank, blank. 

Suddenly, you are awakened, jolted. You can feel again.  PAIN.  It courses through your body - excruciating pain, as he scrapes clean your wounds and dresses them.  Adrenaline kicks in and anger overcomes you.   You lunge at him.  You punch and kick and scream and claw at him, demanding him to stop, begging him to leave.  Crying and screaming you unleash yourself at him, “What kind of a God are you anyway, that shows up at the last minute, only to deliver more pain?  You could have saved me long ago, before things got this bad.  It’s to late now and the pain is to great – just leave me alone.  Just let me die!“  But he has already finished it – the healing balm is in place now.  And in His great mercy, he releases you from his hold, though not from his gaze.  Gently he lays you down.  He sets you in a safe place and sits back, waiting for the process to complete.  He waits at a distance, because He knows you are suffering in your hurt, and anger, and violation.  He knows you can’t bear his presence because it is a reminder of the pain, it is a reminder of all the moments He wasn’t there.  He waits, patiently.  And you lay there, weeping and crying, miserable, utterly alone, wishing for it all to end.

But it doesn’t. Now and again, He sweeps in, so swiftly and lightly that you don’t even notice it, to redress your wounds, quickly, deftly.  He withdraws again, just enough for you to feel safe, but close enough to watch over you.  Time passes.  The balm is working.  “Maybe I’m going to recover,” you think.  And then, without hesitation, “No, surely not.  This is the end of things.”  You glance over at him, furtively.  You can’t fool him.  He scoots in closer.  You wonder if you dare look again.  When it seems He is distracted, you venture a longer scrutinizing look, you’re watching skeptically, untrustingly, examining his every move.  He catches you.  He moves in closer.  You’re not sure when or how it happens, but eventually you realize He is sitting right next to you.  You can feel his presence now.  You feel his warmth, and his breath and his power, like an invisible force field pulsing around you.  You are compelled.  Strong enough now, you sit up.  You turn to Him.  You are gazing at Him now.  You can’t help yourself.  “He’s beautiful.” you think to yourself.

You sit there together, cross-legged, knees touching, looking at each other, face-to-face, gazing into each other’s eyes.  Silently you fight him, but you can’t help it.  You lose yourself in Him.  A rush of strength you have never known rips free inside of you.  Something has changed.  It is mounting - something terrible is about to happen, you can feel it.  But you are glued to him – you cannot break His gaze.  And suddenly it happens – you feel the explosion tear through you as the force of His goodness shatters everything.  You are crushed. 

You don’t remember moving but suddenly you are on you’re your knees, face to the dirt, before Him.  His gaze has destroyed your defenses.  Gut-wrenching sobs pour out of your mouth, your heart, your soul.  “What have I done to deserve such a mercy as this?  Why has he risked everything for me, coming into the battlefield, sacrificing himself?  For me?  For my rescue?  His divine hands are stained with my blood.  Why would he dirty himself for me?  I screamed and swore and told him to go away.  He came to me and he touched me and he healed me.  What have I done to deserve his love, his favor, his kindness?”

You want to die anew.  You want to kill everything bad inside of you.  The gratitude, the indebtedness you feel, is overwhelming.  There is nothing you can do to repay such a debt, to right the injustice of the mercy he has delivered.  You sit at his feet, weeping, weeping, weeping as it sets in – he did this for you, with what benefit to Himself?  He didn’t have to.  He shouldn’t have wanted to.  But he did, he did, he did.  He did it, he wanted to, he was delighted to.  And there are no words left – absolutely none.  Only tears.

He was.  He is.  He is to come.  Holy and anointed one of God, he shed His blood for me, for you, for us - a broken, wounded, confused people.  He stained his hands with my blood as he healed my wounds.  Mercifully, graciously, tenderly he dealt with me.  Faithfully, carefully, deliberately he delivered his presence to me.  Humbly, devotedly, resolutely I am compelled by his great mercy to serve Him now and forever.
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So what about you?  What part of the story are you in?  Take faith, and hope, and courage.  He is still working.  He is still present.  He is still good.