The Spot Worn Bare

Well. I have not written a while- a too long while. So I'm going to write in circles that eventually find a good destination. Don't bother reading this unless you're really that bored.

In the past when people have asked me what I thought my spiritual gifts were, the first thing that popped in my head was compassion. Without fail, I knew I could see and feel others' pains, and I wanted to help them and just to feel their pain with them. I used to be really thankful for this. I knew it made me different. I could easily see that many people are not moved by seeing someone hurt.

Now I have been thinking that I don't like this gift as much as I used to- because it hurts. I have experienced a lot of loss in my life for a 21 year old. The last 4-5 years of my life have been marked by much tragedy. Death and heartbreak- the usual. It seems that each individual hurt was not enough to kill me, but the cumulative remnants of untended wounds seem to be drowning parts of me.

I can still full well recognize the God-given tendency to hurt with others, but I also see my recent self-willed reaction. I want to swiftly say "Yes, that is hard. Let's move on to the solution." I convince myself that giving a quick nod to disappointment and tragedy alike is sufficient for all the stages of grief. I do this to myself in regards to my own pain and the pain I feel when others hurt. I would prefer to skip the actual pain and just heal.

Pain hurts. This is probably not a revelation to you, oh persistent reader. But even saying that something hurts does not cover it. We have to experience it. I heard a song today:

We pray for blessings, We pray for peace
Comfort for family, Protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, For prosperity
We pray for your mighty hand to ease all suffering

And all the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

Cause what if your blessings come through raindrops
What if your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise?

What if my greatest disappointments,
What if the aching of this life,
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can’t satisfy.
What if trials of this life,
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are your mercies in disguise?

I am brought to tears reading the lyrics. I know what my reaction has become. God, ever gracious, allows me to experience pain, and I pull my arms to my chest and fight tears and say "no. no more." "I will not feel this loss." "I will not shed another tear." "There is no need to hurt anymore." I remember telling so many people after losing Lili that I would often lay in bed and weep in my hurt, but I had never felt God so close. He was undeniably near in my greatest hurt. I know He is the same God now. But I know my heart is less willing to hurt. I am willing to have loss, but I don't want to feel loss.

I can taste my own resistance to breaking. Oh how badly I want to just cry when it hurts. And oh how badly I want to just get through it. I am torn between having an honest and tender heart and living in my perception of His victory and strength. He is the Healer. I think Christ claims this title with pride. I don't think He says "I have to be the Healer because this pathetic people won't stop feeling pain." I think He is glad to be our Healer in a world where we are never out of pain's reach.

I have learned quite a few relationships that are unsafe for brokenness. But He has never failed to be a refuge. I don't know what good my brave face is doing in front of Him. He sees straight through to my trembling heart.

I know that somewhere between the self-adopted pit of mournful defeat and the self-built walls of cold defense is a spot worn bare by the knees of saints before me.

I have not found it yet, but when God leads me there, I pray I build my house on that spot.