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  • Wounded

    Posted on June 23rd, 2012 Jaime 2 comments

    A few weeks ago, my friend took her sweet little Havanese pup to a socialization class.  During class, a dog snapped at him, and he ran away whimpering.  The sound of his whimper set off two pit bulls, who attacked him and did some serious damage (physically and emotionally too).  After several stitches, an IV, and lots and lots of love, he’s recovering and doing well, but it has been a tough few weeks for them.

    It’s been a tough few weeks here too.  In my life and in the lives of others around me, I’ve seen quite a bit of pain and heartache.  In some ways, I feel like my friend’s dog – under attack. I feel sad and powerless as I watch things large and feral rush in, teeth bared and bent on destruction.

    And then, I remember.

    It hits me like a wave, water pouring over the dry places.  You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly…. God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

    Powerless.  There’s the word again – set in the past, not the present – and with it the reminder that all of these days are part of a bigger story.

    Waves keep coming, washing over me, reminding me of truths I know deep down. “For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and self-discipline.”  “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”  “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.”

    There is a lot of destruction in this world, yes.  Any power I have on my own has limits.  But I am not on my own.  May I never be so overwhelmed by the wounds that destroy that I fail to remember the wounds of Christ that save, heal, empower.

    A couple days ago, my friend and her pup headed back to the trainer for another socialization class (this time, with small dogs only).  She’s a hoper, my friend.  She remembers too.  This big, beautiful story may have parts that will bring us to our knees in grief and pain and sadness, but destruction doesn’t have the last word.

    Love does.

    ——Ephesians 3:16-19: I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge —that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

     

    2 responses to “Wounded” RSS icon

    • It is hard when you have been getting pounded as you have so it sounds and my family as well. I believe that God will step in when he chooses that it is the right time. The waiting for that time is hard. It is hard to have your soul raked with sandpaper while it all hits you and leaves you battered and bruised.

      I love that song of Amy Grant’s Better Than a Hallelujah where the praise to God are the heart wrenching calls for help to him. I feel like most of my praise lately have been those cry’s to God. I had never thought of that perspective until I read the words to that song recently.

      I know God has our best and our backs and I just need to run and hide under his wings. I need to take the bruises to God and rest in his grace.

      I pray that God will give your family grace and love and peace as your go through the battering and bruising; that you will come through this stronger.

    • Here is that song Jamie,

      Better Than A Hallelujah
      Amy Grant
      Songwriters: Hart, Sarah; Hartford, Chapin;

      God loves a lullaby
      In a mother’s tears in the dead of night
      Better than a Hallelujah sometimes

      God loves the drunkard’s cry
      The soldier’s plea not to let him die
      Better than a Hallelujah sometimes

      We pour out our miseries
      God just hears a melody
      Beautiful, the mess we are
      The honest cries of breaking hearts
      Are better than a Hallelujah

      The woman holding on for life
      The dying man giving up the fight
      Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes

      The tears of shame for what’s been done
      The silence when the words won’t come
      Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes

      We pour out our miseries
      God just hears a melody
      Beautiful, the mess we are
      The honest cries of breaking hearts
      Are better than a Hallelujah

      Better than a church bell ringing
      Better than a choir singing out, singing out

      We pour out our miseries
      God just hears a melody
      Beautiful, the mess we are
      The honest cries of breaking hearts
      Are better than a Hallelujah

      We pour out our miseries
      God just hears a melody
      Beautiful, the mess we are
      The honest cries of breaking hearts
      Are better than a Hallelujah

      (Better than a Hallelujah sometimes)
      Better than a Hallelujah
      (Better than a Hallelujah sometimes)


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