Setting Spiritual Bones

Healing hurts like hell. There, I said it. For those of you that cringed at my words, forgive me. I try harder than you would think to keep my sometimes-sailor mentality off the white pages of my blogs. But today I was reminded not that healing is frustrating or that it’s hard, but that healing is dreadfully hard. I didn’t even remember that Spiritual healing is uncomfortable. 

I was reminded, ironically, that spiritual healing hurts like Hell. Quite possibly, it hurts this badly because the hell has to come out. But dang it, I’ve never been so apprehensive about facing truth or looking myself in the mirror. The funny thing is, it’s not necessarily healing over something I did but rather something done to me that left me in pieces spiritually. 

God has never forsaken me. I look back at the months of nightmarish moments years ago and I can still see the fingerprints of Jesus. Sometimes they’re horrendously and (seemingly) unfairly dim, but they’re there. I’m alive today because Jesus never left and God was never shocked by the wounds my heart holds. I don’t understand them, but somehow He does and He has drawn me to Himself so deeply it’s breathtaking. He’s allowed — and continued to allow — healing but man! Making beauty out of ashes hurts.

Very rarely do you hear honesty coming from those whom God has given the right to heal the parts of their hearts which they’d rather forget. I’ve gotten used to crying and openly telling people that today is a hard day (but never why). Don’t expect me to pass up the phrase “Brokenness is beautiful” for the more gut wrenching reality: “Healing hurts like hell.” 

Sometimes, I wonder if we Christians don’t reach the pennacle of healing Spiritually because we don’t face the fact that not only did the wound hurt, but so did the healing. We know this principle to be true when we set a broken bone… Why can’t we allow it to be true when we’re setting broken spirits? I wonder if we walk away from restoration still aching because we feel as if we can’t admit that, although restoration is beautiful, the pain left scars that restoration had to cut open first.

What glories would we reach spiritually if we let ourselves admit to the painful process of healing and didn’t expect perfect healing the day the wounds of our hearts start to scab over?

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