I only have one story, and so do you. Until we’ve made peace with our story, we’re either a walking time bomb or a master of lies.
Living healed rather than broken matters because I'm not the only one in the world who's been hurt. The walking wounded are everywhere and they're in need.
We are called to be many things in this Christian life but none of them are synonyms for being broken and wounded for all eternity. God promised healing.
Far from being harmless or "white," lies degrade our uprightness, blacken our souls, and erode our self-respect. In short, we are eaten alive by them.
The severely wounded turn mean and vicious even as they beg for healing.
But when anything is exposed and reproved by the light, it is made visible and clear...
Love doesn’t just stop the beating of a child; Love carries the child to safety, tends the wounds, and takes care of every provision required for the child to heal and become whole (Lk. 10:30-35).
I didn't just recapture my NO, I found the joy and love in it.
Until I began to forgive, I was enslaved to the pain of each wound, and more importantly, to the ones who wounded me.
Even the smallest glimpse of the Almighty is an absorption of Light and Love Himself!
God has compassion for me, and to refuse to receive that compassion for myself is to cut off the flow to everyone around me as well.
It is a strange thing indeed to thank God for my own wretchedness.