Wounds

Rage and emotion overwhelm her. She can’t see the problem in herself, though. It’s like watching an old cartoon where the character lays out the trail of gunpowder and lights it. We watch and follow it blazing its way back to the big pile of TNT.

KABOOM!

What’s left is scorched earth, all the bridges are burnt, and where trust once stood is nothing but a pile of ashes. The crater rim now rises above her, and she finds herself surrounded by the destruction she’s unleashed.

She sobs bitterly, blaming everyone else but herself for the pain and despair in her life. Those of us who still hold out hope for her, who pray for her, and who try and put salve on her wounds, are there on the rim of the crater. Some are kneeling, while some are prostrate trying to reach her, yet it’s to no avail.

The magnitude of this explosion won’t easily be recovered. The rebuilding effort will be measured by decades, not years. She cries out, “I’m done with this old world. It would be better off without me in it.” Upon hearing those words the hopeful wail out, “You are loved! Those are lies you’re telling yourself. God loves you.”

God

She’s disgusted at the thought of God. “If he’s real, where has he been? Where was he when I screamed for him, while that pig had his way with me? Why didn’t he answer my prayer when I said I would give myself to him if he would heal my best friend? God is nothing but someone to scare kids in Sunday school.”

There amongst the wreckage, something catches her attention. A light shining through the swirling dust, illuminating something on the ground. She crawls over to it and finds it’s a Bible, open, a verse standing out as if it’s the only one on the page.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Psalms 147:3)

Through eyes that are burning from the salty tears that flowed, and have now left streaks down her face. She reads the verse over again and again. Pausing on the words, “he heals,” she asks with a quivering voice, “Is it even possible to heal?”

Hope

She notices in herself a new, strange feeling, one that’s different; it stands apart from all her other experiences. Those feelings that come from chasing the pleasures of this life, like sex, drugs, and alcohol. She remembers how empty they would make her feel when those moments were over. How she has to keep chasing that feeling, but this, this feels different. It feels like a cup of coffee on a crisp fall morning, or a memory of a time of innocence when you were snuggled up with your grandmother.

She starts to remember the pain, the scars that have grown closed but have left her disfigured. She recalls the decisions that led to those wounds. She reads the verse again. “He binds up the wounds.” She thinks about how proper healing can’t happen without dressing the wound. The cleaning of the cut, the setting of the broken bones, and the applying of ointment.

She starts to see; she has started looking inward now. Is the “He” the verse mentions God? She doesn’t recall this being taught in church when she went as a teenager. “What do I do now?” She asks.

Read

She looks once again at the verse; something new draws her attention. It looks like a water droplet has stained the page. Now that she’s looking at it, there are several of those stains. They look like they could be from someone’s tears. It might as well be hers at this point, as she battles with this hope and fear that’s trying to occupy the same space. Perfectly encircled by one of these stains is a reference for a verse: 1 Peter 2:24.

Searching

Finally finding where the verse is, she reads.

“He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.” (1 Peter 2:24)

She can’t believe it! Here in her hands, in a part of the Bible nowhere near that other verse, is one that sheds more light on her questions. She does know that this verse is talking about Jesus. She remembers the youth pastor talking about Jesus dying on a cross. “Is this what he meant?” She wonders.

“By his wounds we are healed?” She asks herself. She starts to feel her anxiety disappearing, like stepping out into the sun on an early spring day and receiving its warmth on your face. Being reminded of the wounds of her own life, she sees the consequences of her sins. It begins to become clear how Christ took those sins and bore them on the cross. Those words of the street preacher she heard as she walked the streets looking for company, his words coming back to her mind: “Our sins have separated us from God,” he said. “Christ has paid the price to bring us back to God; he has made a way through his death on the cross!” He pleaded.

Salvation

She understands how her sins have separated us from God. How Christ took our sins upon himself and dying on the cross restored our relationship with God. She is reminded of the gospel tract she read, that laid beside the used needles on the table. In it, it spoke of Jesus’ resurrection, how he ascended to heaven after conquering death. The world around her starting to become clearer, she sees that the Bible in her hand was placed here by the Gideons. In it is a prompt to pray and ask Christ to forgive you of your sins, and call on him as your Lord and Savior.

She prays right there asking God for forgiveness, for help, and for him to have control of her life. She feels free, relieved, like a burden has been removed from her.

She lays the Bible down beside the bottle of pills she had ready, and instead picks up the phone and calls the ones who never gave up on her to come pick her.

I pray that God uses this story to help someone. Maybe you have that loved one that’s spiraling out of control. I encourage you to keep praying for them. If God has delivered you from your own destruction filled crater, be willing to share with others how God delivered you.

Thanks for reading my story. May God bless you.