Messiah. Desperately wishing that He could scoop them into His arms and save them from the pain like a mother hen does for her little chicks. But they stayed. They chose bondage and the Father’s heart is crushed. I am not alone; I am standing with Him.
As I sat back down on the couch with my husband beside me I couldn’t stop weeping. I told the Lord, “I know your burden is easy but I’m hurting, this is the hardest thing I have ever done. To sit. To weep. To feel the true weight of compassion and mercy is a grief so powerful I don’t know how to get out of it and I don’t know if I want to. It feels so special to connect with suffering so deeply and honestly.”
Then I heard Him clearly, “Ellie, my burden is easy but the road is hard.”
Sometimes when you get to the top of the mountain and look down you get a better perspective of what the road truly looked like, how hard it really was, how much you have overcome. Then you are at the top in this place of beauty and oversight but left breathless from the struggle it was to get there. And you stay breathless, because the air is thin.
I apologized to my husband for the sudden emotional outburst. He looked at me with the most honest eyes I have ever seen, eyes that show a depth of love and capacity to empathize like no one else. He looked at me, he looked into my very soul and saw my deepest fear, the ugly and dark past I try to “heal” and he said, “Ellie, God wants you to know that there are some wounds that need to stay fresh. Some cuts that need to keep bleeding and some scars that need to be kept open. That is how people connect. Your scars are what enables them to see the light inside of you.”
My scars shine light and point to the savior who radiates light and life. My scars point to the Master who elevates my pain on a platform and uses it to bring freedom to the captives. My scars point to the One who says my pain is never wasted because I’m His child.
I have this platform of pain that I’m standing on at the top of the mountain. I’m desperately calling down to those struggling, “The road is hard but it leads to life and peace!”
If I’m not on my platform bleeding red they can’t see me. Jesus kept His scars fresh. The wound in His side stayed open so that one man, Thomas, could see them. Touch them. So the scars will stay open for me too – even if it is only for one girl.
The grieving has passed for this moment but I am marked by it. Marked more strongly then my abuser ever could. I am more proud of these tears then any I shed while Jesus was helping me, walking, crawling or running along side me up my mountain of pain to the top where I am now standing: casting light, weeping and bleeding on my platform of pain but feeling more at peace then ever before.
I am left for the night in a somber place, contemplating the great power of letting my suffering bleed and letting the blood cast light on the dark, hard roads of the abused and suffering below me.