I burnt myself with a curling iron. It’s so stupid. Brett and I actually had plans both nights of the weekend, like going out plans, and not just to soccer games. So I thought I’d fancify myself up. Clearly, I’m out of practice.
I felt the burn when it happened—searing hot. Ouch, like mmmm, no appropriate words available. But I was mid-curl, and had to finish, and get the kiddos all settled before we headed out, so I kept twirling and curling. I peeked at my wrist and couldn’t even see where I’d burned it, although it stung like crazy! Throughout the evening I kept glancing at the painful spot on my hand radiating heat, but there was still no mark. I told myself I was making a big deal about nothing.
The next day, the burn still hurt and the area was slightly pink, but you could only tell if you looked. Really hard. The third day, everyone I saw asked what happened to my hand. It was so weird. I felt my skin burn the moment the hot iron touched my hand, but it didn’t leave a mark for days. Not to gross you out, but a week and a half later I still have a giant scab that hurts and itches. I’m fairly certain it will scar, leaving a permanent reminder of a dumb mistake that didn’t even reveal itself until after the fact.
I think this is how emotional burns work.
When somebody says something cruel, treats us like we’re less than, when we’re shamed or belittled or betrayed or let down, when we experience loss, we feel it instantly. But we’re usually busy, and don’t want to reveal that the comment or action hurt us, because you know, we’re strong and resilient. Right? So we keep on going, moving, smiling, nodding, twirling. The next day it still hurts, but the damage isn’t visible. After time the pain of the emotional burn is less front and center, but it begins to manifest itself in unexpected ways. We might struggle with sleeping, or speaking up, or getting up and trying again. We might be unsure of how to move forward or back out of a relationship. We may over compensate, give a little attitude, or withdraw.
And eventually we’re left with a scar. And that scar tissue is sensitive and doesn’t do well in the sunlight and there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do about it.
I have some of these scars. I bet you do, too. Emotional hurts that I tried to plow through, but that left their permanent mark on me.
I’m so grateful for a Savior that lived a life where He felt physical and emotional pain. He was physically flogged, nailed, and pierced. If you saw the 2004 movie The Passion of the Christ, you get the picture. Jesus’ friends betrayed him, denied him, gave up on him. He was always being misunderstood. So, Jesus empathizes about those scars, those hurts we have deep inside. Better yet, He knows how to heal them.
You all, I’ve tried self-help on these emotional wounds. It’s not a bad thing—it just doesn’t completely heal. Jesus does. He is the way. He is the truth. He is the light. Show Him where you hurt. Tell Him about it. Jesus understands your pain. He loves you in spite of it, and because of it. Jesus is a healer. In Matthew 11:5, Jesus says, “tell John, The blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleaned, the deaf here, the dead are raised.” He longs to heal your burns.
Those scars, they may always be a part of you—marks of what you’ve learned, how you’ve grown—but the pain that caused them? Jesus longs to take it away. Hand it over to Him, and let Him spread the cool, soothing aloe of His love wherever you’ve been burned. The healing process can begin immediately. All you have to do is ask Him.
Have You Ever Experienced a Miracle?
Miracles happen quietly every day—in an operating room, on a stormy sea, in the sudden appearance of a roadside stranger. They are rarely tallied. No one keeps score.
~The First Phone Call from Heaven by Mitch Albom
Have you ever experienced a miracle?
A big one? A small one?
I bet you have. I think Albom is spot on in his quote above, miracles do happen quietly, every day.
On my morning run I spotted two baby deer and their mama in a neighbor’s yard, playing tag with one another, romping about. The babies were tiny—white speckles on their backs—and they made me stop everything. Stop my conversation with my husband. Stop the rhythm of my feet. Even for a moment I stopped breathing. Because they were beautiful. And deer don’t usually play where people are. But on this morning, early enough to beat the July heat; I got to glimpse the grace and beauty of these deer. They were a gift to me. A small miracle.
On a group message I noticed someone’s title was a professor of Special Education. My daughter wants to major in Special Ed. No way! I thought. I’ll have to chat with this woman. But there was no need to call or write an email. I turned around at church the next day to see this very woman standing behind me. And my daughter was next to me. We all chatted. They set up a meeting, and ever since my daughter has worn a huge smile on her face. She got to volunteer all week with a special needs camp. It lit her up from the inside out doing something that truly makes her shine. I couldn’t have orchestrated this meeting, or this experience for her, not like this. But God could. Another miracle on the books.
I’ve experienced big, unbelievable get down on my knees miracles, too. My youngest was born with a hole in his heart. We spent the first couple of weeks of his life getting ultrasounds of his tiny ticker with the pediatric cardiologists at Children’s Hospital. And praying. A lot. But when we went in for his two month follow up—anxiety tight in my stomach, tears pricking the corners of my eyes—the ultrasound showed his hole had closed up on it’s own. It had repaired itself! This was what we’d hoped for, begged God for, the best-case scenario. There was no follow up necessary. A true lightning bolt, praise Jesus miracle.
How about you? Have you experienced a miracle? A big one that knocked your socks off? Small ones that no one else might count, that wouldn’t get you canonized or even in the local news, but a miracle none the less? Have you experienced something you could not have planned, predicted or pulled together no matter how hard you tried; yet somehow, there it was, the perfect moment just waiting for you?
The rest of the quote from The First Phone Call in Heaven reads, “But now and then, a miracle is declared to the world. And when that happens, things change.”
What if we shared our miracles? Not for bragging rights, because there’s nothing to take credit for, because we are so clearly not behind the miracles. But to be grateful. To say thanks to God who dropped them in our laps—little nuggets, that made things easier, happier, less complicated. Big reliefs and life changes and burdens lifted that overwhelmed us with gratitude. What if we shared these big and small miracles? What if we also paid attention, and took note of the miracles occurring in the lives of our friends and family?
What if by declaring our miracles to the world we really could make a change? We could help each other be more appreciate, live more in wonder, acknowledge more often that God is actively working in all of our lives on a daily basis. We could give Him not only credit, but also praise for doing so. Would we live a little less nervous, a little less anxious, knowing our God is alive and well and on our side? Would we sleep better, fret less, hug more freely? I’m guessing yes. Share with someone a miracle you’ve experienced today, and let’s see what kind of change we can make.
What miracles big or small have you experienced? I’d love to hear.
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