Wasted wounds?

Since moving to Colorado, I haven’t posted a blog, even though I’ve written plenty of pieces. For some reason, writing feels weightier now that I work at a church. I think I’ve always put pressure on myself to have it all together, to have a pretty little box to wrap my experiences up in, to have an ending to the stories I share, and working in ministry has amplified my perceived pressure to be “put-together.” It feels safer to wait for full healing before sharing the story: wait until the tears are dry, then share the story as a testimony of complete freedom and healing. I want to offer hope, healing, and freedom to others, but I often feel like I need to experience it myself first before sharing it with others. So what do you do when it’s been years, and the old wounds still bring you to your knees? Is there room for my messiness in ministry?

This past week, specific old wounds were brought back up for the first time since moving to Colorado. My age-old self-protective tendencies kicked in, telling me to withdraw emotionally and relationally, or at the very least, to wait to process the emotions on my own before inviting someone in. I wasn’t sure I felt safe enough here yet to share these emotions or experiences with new people, especially knowing that now I work for a church–aren’t I supposed to have it all together?

As I was reminded of the brokenness in my story, I mourned the lingering impacts of those wounds. Even if I wanted to invite others in, I wasn’t sure how, after years of self-medicating with various numbing or self-soothing techniques. I was tempted to believe that my wounds disqualified and disabled me in my ministry and in my relationships. Not only did my wounds make me doubt my worthiness, but they made me doubt my competence too. If I’m still crying over an event from 4+ years ago, how am I supposed to comfort the girl sitting across from me who shares about a similar event that happened only 4 days ago for her? How am I supposed to encourage others to hope for healing, when I’m not even sure that I’m fully healed myself?

I was tempted not only to hate the existence of my wounds, but to also hate my reactions to the pain. 2nd Corinthians 3:17 reads “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” But what do I do when I still feel enslaved to the patterns of pain-responses from my past? What do I do when my body responds faster in self-protection than my mind can override those withdrawal tendencies with truth, grace, and trust?

As I wrestled with my worthiness this week, wondering if my wounds discredited me from relationships and ministry, I was reminded of the truth of the gospel, that it is true not only for the people I’ve come to share it with, but it is true for me. Just as I love Jesus dearly for His wounds, He loves me dearly for mine. Just as my heart hurts for the holes in His hands–I hate that He had to under-go mistreatment, betrayal, and deep emotional and physical pain–I know that His heart hurts for my wounds. I trust that He feels deep compassion and love for me because of the ways I’ve been wounded. My scars are not repulsive to Him, but draw Him closer to me.

He has also shown me this week that my wounds, while worthy of mourning, are not going to be wasted. Romans 8:28 says, “All things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose,” and I am choosing to believe that this is true, even when I feel the lingering impacts of past pain. He is already in the process of redeeming my story by allowing me to empathize with, mourn with, and pray for healing with others who have experienced similar wounds. 2nd Corinthians 1:3-4 says, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.” These are verses that I have clung to this week, as they remind me that my wounds are made worth it when I can look someone in the eye, with tears still in my own, and say “You are not alone.”

I may not have any profound words of comfort or healing from my own experiences, as I’m still on the journey of healing myself, but the Father is graciously teaching me to receive His comfort and to simultaneously share that comfort with others. My wounds do not discredit me from relationships or ministry, but are rather redeemed and restored through them. My wounds are what equip and inform my calling, they are what prepare me to love and comfort others around me well. Thank you Jesus for entrusting me with wounds that help me to understand and love others in a deep and raw way. My wounds are not wasted with Him.