Healing

I was grouchy yesterday. It was a Sunday afternoon and I was grouchy. This is significant because it never happens...I love Sunday afternoons.

But rather than enjoying what may be one of the last summer Sundays, I was in a funk that it was nearly impossible to snap out of. I got caught up in worrying about something that I just need to let go of and it cast a dreary shadow on an otherwise beautiful day.

In retrospect, I probably should have taken a nap or gone to the park or called a friend. I eventually went for a run. By that point, much of the day was gone. But even if I had done all of those things, I would have only delayed the pain. I convinced myself that the only way for me to feel better was to have another person fix it or fix me or both.

Today I have been thinking about healing and what that really means. I think my tendency is to look into myself to make things better, get over it, rise about it, to find healing by persevering through the hurt but when I do all of these things to try to repair my own heart, I fall painfully short. It's like putting a band aid on a broken leg. And so today, I am compelled to take pain to the only One that can truly bring healing in the midst of my hurt. He knows where I am broken, where I feel pain and He can take me in His arms and bring me to a place where I am whole and complete. But I must go to Him. I must acknowledge the fact that I can't fix me. Apart from His grace, I will remain in pain and although I may mask it temporarily, it won't go away.

And so I take my pain to the One who, on the darkest of Sunday afternoons, did much more than just medicate the pain but instead restored our broken, hurting world and brought redemption and new life.