Wound Washing

I fell today.

With all the gracefulness of Michelle Kwan missing her landing on a triple loop. At least she's got ice. I, on the other hand, was an experiment in Newton's first law of motion when my shin met pavement, and the applied force of that friction stopped this body in motion.

Quickly, I dusted myself off, checked for blood, and kept going. But I found I had to go back to what I know:

Back straight.

Thumbs tucked.

Shoulders back.

Elbows aimed to meet between my shoulder blades.

Breathe.

I've got a skinned leg, and within a few hours I'll have the scabs to prove it. For it to heal, I'll have to keep it clean and not let anyone bump it. Soon, nature will take its course; the scab will shrink until it is nothing, and there will hopefully be only the faintest scar to remind me of that fall.

I fell last week.

A different kind of wound.

A wound that was inflicted many, many times when I was younger. It never really had a chance to heal because the scab kept getting ripped off. These days, there is a scar there. And when someone bumps it, as people are wont to do in the crowded days of life, the scar opens up, and the bleeding starts all over again.

My friend and her husband work for a human trafficking rescue organization in one of the largest cities in America. I frequently get a call for prayer regarding a new "sparrow" they have rescued and taken in. Bev told me something poignant last month. "Hurting people hurt people." Apparently, those sparrows bite. Hard.

Last week, I was the biting sparrow. And when my wound got bumped, I bit. Hard. But my friend never meant to bump me. She didn't even know there was a wound there. So, at day's end, two of us were hurting.

Funny thing about these wounds. I'm not a fragile kind of person. To the contrary, I think I'm pretty sturdy. In fact, I'd have to say it's the only past hurt I've got. So, when I started praying about this situation a few mornings ago, and I went to wipe something off my face, I was stunned to realize that it was a tear. I was crying and didn't even know it! THAT is how deep some wounds can go. And when someone bumps it, I'm always taken aback by my own ferocity.

I suspect every Christian has his own scar. It seems inevitable as we are forgiven but fallen members of the forgiven but fallen Body. The key to survival is good wound care.

In other words, when the scab gets ripped off, I need to dust myself off and go back to what I know. And I need to wash it with the water of God's Word:

God is sovereign.

God is good.

All things work together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.

He will wipe away every tear.

He will make all things new.

Wounds are inevitable; but only my Father and His Word can apply the truth that brings the healing.