Devotion 395 - Healing

I looked down and realized I had done something really stupid.  I am pretty good at stupid and I have learned stupid isn’t so bad if you react well and if you learn fast.

I saw the broken piece of ceramic had sliced the inside of my foot and it was bleeding badly.  Smarter women than I would have hopped over to the sink and been brave and quiet.  I was neither.

I was wishing I had made my coffee before I decided to rush through a quick clean of the kitchen.  The kitchen was now not clean and my dripping foot was quickly making it scary dirty.  

I did exactly what my kids do when they are scared or bleeding or freaked, they yell for their daddy.  I yelled for their daddy too.  Even though he was sound of sleep and even though it was crazy early, he found me.  That is what fathers do,  they rescue, they comfort and they make things right.

 

I remembered that blood and that pain as I sat across from a father as he wept.  This man, a dear family friend hemorrhaged with heart break as he explained the upheaval in his family.  He cried for his wife, he sobbed for his children.  There are moments in this life when natural remedies cannot mend.

I thought of a thousand things to say, but as the words dropped with tears, minutes turned to hours and thoughts became prayers.

 

This is what daddies do, they stop the bleeding, and they bandage and embrace. But there are times that even daddies fall short and the wounded hearts stand gaping open.

There are times things, people, circumstances, countries,and lives are so broken, the only possible repair must create something different something we are unable to see, and incapable to feel or touch.

We know it will be something vastly different, foreign. We will learn the language of healing, but we do not know when and the pain remands us mute.

We cannot describe the sorrow, nor see the finish, but we hold on to the thought that One does see the finish and knows the end.

This is the daddy that comes when we scream in the night and cry in silence.  He knows pain.

He authored suffering and He is the Father that teaches us how to parent in glory and gut wrenching agony.

He is there.

How do we ever overlook the fact that He has seen, felt, witnessed, healed, touched, heard, held and loved everyone and everything that has ever happened?  And He keeps steadfast.

Amazing.

So the daddy or the mamma or the friend or the child prays and they usher in the Potter.

We as flesh and blood bandage, we repair, the Potter remakes.

We can mend the creation, He recreates.

The pain of it is no less, the purpose however is divine.

 

Our life spins, but ceases to be out of control, because we are in His hands, on His clock, experiencing the reformation of our souls.  The physical scars may remain, their meaning changes.  They are no longer the symbol of suffering but the emblem of ownership.

Somewhere deep we hear the whisper, "consider it pure joy, whenever you face trials of many kinds." 

Joy, it is a God given assurance that in everything He is present. He is holding us up and holding us close when we cannot stand.  It is the promise that mourning will end on this side of heaven possibly, on the other side, absolutely.

The bleeding stops, the bandage grips tight and joy flows while pain ebbs.  It is the transaction of healing and the essence of holiness.

 

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous hand. Isaiah 41:10