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cutting

Dressing Wounds of the Heart

By: Charlotte Dillon

My husband recently had an accident with a metal grinder and I found myself bent over a wound needing to play nurse for a man who probably should have gone to get stitches. We had nothing to dress the wound properly with so after a trip to the pharmacy I began tearing open boxes until I could find what would best close the gash. The box read “wound closure” and took me back through a glorious memory of how nail scarred hands dressed a wound of mine not too many years ago.

In a drug overdose at fourteen God supernaturally spared me of death. Unfortunately, I spent the next two years learning to play a religious game of Simon Says, i.e. If you’re a Christian wear this, talk like this, don’t go there, don’t be friends with them… I simply could not keep up. My untidy appearance and broken home and family were no match for the eyes of the Pharisees, namely for the  Pharisee eyes that I possessed over myself.

Exhausted from the unending list, I crumbled and in an instant I went back. Back to alcohol, back to drugs, in an instant it was all back at my finger tips as if there was a lion lurching behind the pew just waiting to call my bluff and devour me. But this time it was not about a party or a temporary high, no this was a plot to take my life. I heard voices in my head become louder and louder telling me to harm myself because I would never measure up I would never be as good as I wanted to be. I succumbed to the threat and gave myself gash after gash on my arm. In a mess of my own blood I lifted for one final blow and there was a knock on my door.

What happened next was the glorious beginning of Christ in me beside me in pain. It took time for those wounds to heal and unsightly bandages unable to be concealed but His presence came and I know Him like I know Him now because I knew Him then, though He slay me, yet will I praise Him. I began reading the scripture like never before seeing how pain seemed to play an essential role in the lives of His chosen ones.

You see He came IN THE MIDST of my pain. He could have come sooner but He waited. I’m so glad He waited because I reach out everyday with these scars across my arms am I am reminded of how my Savior came to me while I was squirming in my blood and said LIVE.

Ezekiel 16:6-7 ‘Then I passed by and saw you kicking about in your blood, and as you lay there in your blood I said to you, “Live!” I made you grow like a plant of the field.

Every time I drive a car, push a shopping cart, push my son on the tire swing, support my daughter in my lap to nurse, reach for my husband’s face to kiss goodnight, the scars sing so beautifully the redemption song that plays through the scripture from Genesis to Revelations. He is mighty to save and He is set on saving me. Is there anything more humbling than to know the grandeur of the character and holiness of God and to see His own nail scarred arm reach down to pick me up? There is power in the pain that Christ allows and ultimately redeems for His glory in our lives. Though I am many years from those wounds the voice that seeks to destroy still threatens me and the threats to the cross of Christ are many but He is able to save me thoroughly and seat me at His table in full view of my enemies!

Psalm 23:5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

I finished patching my husband’s arm after his grinder accident and he asked me how I knew so much about “wound closure” and in a hushed and awed whisper my soul sang out “JESUS.”