This Scar Is My Fault and I See God All Over It

This year has been a hard season. I won’t put on a face and pretend it hasn’t been. I also won’t sit in misery. But I will show up honest. This has been a season of closing the curtain on my human feelings and coming back home each night to the reality that just because they were hidden did not mean they were not there. Because sometimes, it’s easier to shut off our emotions than to allow ourselves to feel the weight of what it is.

This year, I hurt merciless. I hurt restrained. And I hurt slow. My hurt became a friend that I should have cut ties with a long time ago. But it was one of those clingy friends that you literally can’t get away from. You know what I mean?

For a while, I held out my open wounds and tried to cover them with distractions. As if that was going to heal them properly. But this year, I held up my scars and I stopped trying to convince people they weren’t my fault. This year, I stopped looking for logic and I owned up to the shattered pieces.

Eventually our human heart will demand to be heard. And it will demand to be felt. And it will demand for us to be aware of its condition. That being said, I have been a season that has been absent of words that were real. Because it seemed nothing could measure up to describe what was being done all around. I wanted to use the weight of these emotions to create something honest. Something that could sit close to people’s hearts. Something that their heart could feel and say, “Me too.”

There is something deep to me about experiencing ache while I’m here in this life. Even the ache that is caused by my own shortcomings. As if I’ve been given a gift that was wrapped up in despair. As if my soul is understood so thoroughly by the one who understands best, that I can open that gift with a sense of purpose.

More than anything in my life I am certain that the One who breathes life into my own lungs, will never allow me to be in pain for no reason. He does not cross his arms when I am reaching out. He does not close His eyes on my frailty. He does not hide when I am distraught. And He does not turn His back on my instability.

Instead, I have come to know a God who allows broken things to be mended, and other times, allows us to learn from our faulty choices. But either way, a God who always creates learning material. So kindly. And so wisely.

This year, He taught my heart how to show up on purpose. Front line with a spotlight. Not for applause or for any recognition on who I am. But to show up for the people who haven’t shown up for themselves yet. To show up and say, “Hey. I’m a little messy, too.” He taught me that some things have to be broken. So that when he puts us back together, we can last.

This year, I fell in love with a God who has knew exactly where I was going to hurt. And a God who knew exactly how He intended to use it.

He is so unmatched. And I am so in love with it.

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