What if, instead of hiding my pain, I allowed others to see it and offer it as a testimony of the power and grace of God in my life?
What if, instead of pretending that “everything is alright”, I admit that it’s not, but that God is still on the throne?
What if, instead of creating a gulf between myself and others by walling off parts of my life that I deem too messy, I throw open the door and invite folks inside-mess and all?
Read the rest here: Displaying Our Scars
What if, instead of hiding my pain, I allowed others to see it and offer it as a testimony of the power and grace of God in my life?
What if, instead of pretending that “everything is alright”, I admit that it’s not, but that God is still on the throne?
What if, instead of creating a gulf between myself and others by walling off parts of my life that I deem too messy, I throw open the door and invite folks inside-mess and all?
My scars make me who I am. My struggles are part of who I am becoming. And my messy life is the only one I’m likely to have this side of Heaven.
As I’ve written before:
If the people I meet think that I have it all together all the time, they are going to be much less likely to admit that they don’t. And let’s be real, none of us have it all together.
We all have at least one place in our lives that hurts and that needs healing.
Everyone has scars.
Authenticity is the key to opening doors and creating communities where one person can reach out to another and where genuine healing can begin.
You can read more here: Dropping the Mask
No way around it–this goat is ugly. He was born a runt and never outgrew it.
But he’s my favorite.
Several years ago he was attacked by dogs. One had him by the ear (thus his missing ear) and one had him by the hindquarters. Only my youngest son’s swift barefoot run through the woods saved him from being killed. Julian carried him out, mangled and bloody.
We spent weeks cleaning and treating his wounds and months nursing him back to health.
He has no monetary value–in fact he’s cost me a good deal. But I love him because he is a testimony of hope.
He lives in spite of his scars.
Walking through the valley of the shadow of death, I’m meeting others who have buried their children too.
And it is so, so hard.
But these mamas are so, so brave.
And they are clinging with all their might to the hand of the One Who has promised to redeem this pain and these wounds.
I can’t tell you that anything “good” has come from my son’s death–at least nothing that couldn’t have come from his life.
But I can tell you that what the enemy intended to use to destroy me and my family has not done that.
I am hurt and I bear scars.
But the Shepherd of my soul has carried me and is carrying me.
I will continue to trust in Him and offer my life as a testimony of hope.
Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.
Romans 5:3-5 NIV
thelifeididntchoose 