Beauty for Ashes

For weeks I have been waiting to write; day after day my fingers have yearned to express the thoughts drifting loosely within my soul. Many a time I would sit with the dutiful intention of releasing these emotions and gifting them with literary life, but from the moment of anticipated action, the words would cease to form, dissipating like smoke in the wind. The fingers would curl in contemplation, and the emotions would swallow the thoughts to the point clear distinctions were an impossibility to decipher. Emotions are meant to be painted with colors and photographs, for they transcend the limited dictionary of verbosity. It was an odd contrast to be afflicted by – being possessed by the forceful desire to write, but lacking the freedom to quench the thirst.

The words flowed first in short tidbits of personal reflection regarding the passage of a year’s time. I had never before found myself longing for the year to end and for the dawn to break on a freshly birthed year. I recalled the last year of life and was profoundly amazed at all that can occur within a mere 365 days. Yet, as I wrote, I found that each sentence was detached and was no more than a historical timeline of the last year of my life interlaced with the occasional emotional commentary. For days I glared at the typed words as if willing them to form into the shape I longed to mold. Release and inspiration came days later as a single thought trickled through my mind concerning those around me who were already beginning the new year with heartache. On a night of spiritual hunger, I searched through sermon podcasts from Matt Brown. One and only one caught my eye, and upon listening to it in its entirety, all of the words left unspoken accumulated beneath the banner of a common theme. What has the last year of life been dominated by?

Two things. Two complex, contradictory, and yet dependent words. 

The first is pain.

The second, healing.

A year to this day leaves me in utter shock at all that can occur within a year. It began with an ending. The ending of an emotionally abusive relationship. It was then followed by months of personal recovery, with much forgiveness, only to descend into a second emotionally damaging relationship that ended within days of my Grandfather’s passing. I lost my Grandpa physically. I am currently losing my other only known Grandpa mentally as he slowly slips away from the man I have known. Dementia is a cruel disease. My Grandmother has assumed a personality contrary to that I have ever seen and is but a shell of the woman I have known for twenty years. Wine is her comforter and anger, her relief. My father has traded grief for anger and my mother mourns in secret. In so many ways, a year has tested the endurance of my heart

Pain is an intriguing concept, and even more enthralling is the notion of healing. Much like darkness and light, these two are destined to be held together in the palm of one hand. They are bound together, yet I find it both disheartening and alarming at how few understand both the Biblical perspective of pain and how even fewer know of the Biblical process of healing. 

The problem of pain rests in our general perspective of it. We, quite frankly, do not like it. We live within a society that stubbornly instructs us to seek pleasure and avoid pain at every cost. Pain, suffering, and sorrow are terms with negative connotations and each is accompanied by the notion of fear and the impulsive reaction of flight. Yet, Scripture offers an alternative perspective of pain. 

Ecclesiastes 1:18 states, “For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief.”

Ecclesiastes 7: 2-4 says, “It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, because a sad face is good for the heart. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of pleasure.”

The first understanding that must be noted is that there is a purpose to the pain. Pain is something mandated by Jesus to all of His followers. It is said that our suffering produces perseverance, perseverance produces character, and character produces hope. This hope is promised to never disappoint. 

Pain is a part of life. We all experience pain, and at some point, we will all suffer great quantities of it. It is in our approach to pain that the conflict arises. Just as Christ promises suffering, He also promises healing. One of the greatest answers one in pain gives to one asking about his or her pain is the remark that, “That’s life. People hurt.” However, what they fail to do is finish the complete thought. The sentence should read: “That’s life. People hurt, and then they heal.” Often times, we stop at the hurt in a morbid stalemate and refuse to make the next move that opens the path to healing grace. 

Exodus 15: 26 says to Israel, “ . . . for I am the Lord who heals you.”

When in the eye of the storm, it is easy to scoff at this verse. Healing? Really? I am certain many can relate to this feeling. If He was a God of healing, then surely so many people would not be hurting. Right? I mean, it only makes sense.

Why is there such hurting, even from wrongs and mistakes made weeks, months, and even years before? Why do the effects still linger as an endless sting to the soul?

The answer is simple – healing occurs in the form of a process. And, this process extends beyond prayer. It takes more then prayer to fully heal in the manner God instructs. The problem is that we live within a society that prefers to neglect the issue. We live within a society that believes in bottling up emotions. We say “suck it up” and “tough it out.” Be men. Buck up. 

And we wonder why so many hurt . . . they store it away like a secret treasure no one else can find. They harbor it in the back of their minds and the corners of their heart. Instead of releasing the pain, we as a society greedily clasp onto it and tuck it away for safe keeping.
We must follow the process. We must take it step by step.

The first step toward Biblical healing is revealing our hurt to other Christians. 

We live in a country that prides itself on being tough, proud, and independent. To show vulnerability is to show weakness. We take the hurt and we keep it to ourselves, thinking that this in some way makes us stronger. Or, we take the martyr approach – “I don’t want to burden you with my problems.” Such sacrifice, right? 

. . . that is not what Scripture teaches. David is a fine example of describing the greater pain that arises when we keep silent about a wounded heart.

Psalm 39: 2 “But when I was silent and still, not even saying anything good, my anguish increased.”

Psalm 32: 3 “When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long.”

One of the phrases I always, always, hear when I know someone is hurting and question him or her about that hurt is the calloused response of, “That’s reality,” or, “Others have had it worse.” The second is very well true, but at the moment, we are not dealing with others. Just you. They shrug it off like it is any ordinary news. Pain is pain. However, as I see it, avoiding the pain, not talking about it, and pretending like it is not there, or even denying it altogether, is completely NOT dealing with reality. That pain IS reality and it is there to be faced head on, face first, and not swept beneath a rug. I used to be quite guilty of that phrase. I believed it was simply accepting reality, but in doing this, I merely ran away from it while convincing myself that I had dealt with it. We cannot allow ourselves to be hurt or angered while letting no one know. The silence allows the pain to fester like an open sore. Untreated and ignored, it will become infected and will spread throughout the body. Hidden pain is a sore upon the soul.

One of the greatest flaws of our society is the extent we go to avoid this pain. We are a society of pill-poppers and substance abusers. We have a cure for everything! Headache? Take a pill! Stressed? Smoke a cigarette! Feeling sad? Here’s some drugs! Pills, pills, pills, pills . . . We have become a people of dependency. We take the medication to dull away the pain. We consume the drugs to mentally run away and hide. “Prozac Nation.” Did you know that in cleaning our water and recycling the waste water that we can completely rid the water of the bacteria from the waste, but that we have not found a way to rid the water of the drugs that people are consuming? Think about that upon drinking your next glass of water. It is so little wonder how few people truly heal when we see just how far they go to never even experience the pain. I have watched women drown their sorrows in alcohol until they are in such a stupor that they do not even remember who they are, let alone who anyone else is. I have seen friends so strung up on drugs in a vain attempt to avoid family and financial problems that they sacrifice their very own identity in an addiction. I have seen people not able to handle a basic situation without clambering about for the source of nicotine. We are a people of dependence. A people of addiction. We are a people that would rather turn to a doctor to receive drugs to help us deal with a supposed reality than God. Drugs (both legal and illegal), cigarettes, drinking . . . when we become dependent upon these things, addicted to them, and ultimately lost within their false promise of peace, we replace the spot in our lives where God should be with them. When we turn to them to help us “deal” with pain, stress, fear, or anger, we turn our backs to God and ultimately tell Him, “This works better than You, God. I choose giving my pain to this rather than to You.” 

We don’t need a doctor to deal with hurt. We need God.

James 5: 16 “Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.”

When we share out hurt, something amazing and unique happens. Confessing sins brings healing. What has this to do with pain, one may ask? Everything. Unconfessed hurt and anger IS a sin. It is a sin against the self. When we withhold the pain and anger, we sin. When we confess it in fellowship, that is when the beauty of healing first begins. Now, we don’t need to plaster it onto a billboard or tell a great many people. Even a single person or two or three is a magnificent start. Healing only begins when it is shared. Don’t try to be a martyr . . . it is a command to share your hurt. A shared burden is the meaning of fellowship. 

The second step is to reshape the way in which we perceive our past experiences. 

This is perhaps the part I have struggled with the most. It can be easy to tell other believers about your pain. For me, I found the ears of close friends to always be open to my broken words and teary explanations. However, it was at step one that I ceased my own healing process. I figured that I had prayed and I had sought the support of friends. Surely that was enough to heal!

I was quite wrong. For nearly a year I believed that I had healed from the wounds of mental, verbal, and spiritual abuse. Even when it occurred a second time and just as quickly ended, I believed that I had gone through the proper steps to pick up the pieces. I suppose a fitting analogy is glass and glue. 

Take a vase and drop it on the ground. You will surely have big pieces and little pieces. Healing without following the Biblical steps is like attempting to put the bowl back together with tape. Only following the first or second steps is like using a glue stick. Those pieces may stick for a little while, but they will slip and fall apart. 

My awakening to the fact I had done so little healing came full force in the wake of a new relationship. I would never admit to fearing relationships, for on the outside, I never did. However, it was not until I suddenly realized my heart’s attachment to this individual that the fear consumed me. For two years, I had known nothing but mental and emotional abuse. Those two relationships were the only things I had to base any relationship off of, so when the man I began a relationship with failed to resemble anything like the past, I panicked. I was in unfamiliar territory. I did not know what it was like to be truly cared for, and the heart I had taped and glue-sticked together loosened their strains and came crashing to the ground. The first sign was a relapse. Somehow, the razor found my skin and a behavior I had believed to conquer pushed back with the force of Goliath. But, the crumbling did not stop there. I lashed out in anger and in fear like a cornered animal. I was petrified. A single disagreement in views brought forth the extent of the pain I was still in, the anger I still felt, and the hurt I had still failed to give away. 

Realization dawned in the same manner one looks in the mirror. I saw myself from the outside in; I was becoming like my past. I had allowed the hurt and fear to fester away within me, for I had never perceived my past with anything but the view of a victim. It was in the belief that I had failed this new relationship that I decided that something had to change. I was tired of looking in the mirror and wondering who the girl I saw was and why I missed something about her. I had confessed my hurt to dear friends, but I had not been truly honest with it all . . . I had not confessed the manner in which I had also failed my past relationships, and I had lied to myself that they still affected me.

It was in a long night of talking with a dear friend that my perception of my past began to shift. It happened in a process – sadness, anger, and then, release. A quite remarkable release. This release brought the transformation of thought, a bit of courage, and a lot of determination.

Romans 12: 2 “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”

Romans 8:28 “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

God does not cause the evil in our lives. That must first be understood. He does, however, allow it to occur. But, the beauty is in the ending. 

Have you ever watched someone paint a picture? It begins looking obtuse and abstract, but it gives you an idea of what it will look like in the end. As the painter applies colors and begins to give it shape, it begins to distort into something indistinguishable. I have found myself watching a painter paint and in the middle of his creation I have actually found it to look not only ugly, but nothing like it was suppose to! However, if we continue to watch, to observe the painter add some green here, some blue here, and maybe a bit of purple there . . . it begins to take shape once more. Add a few more brush strokes, and maybe even scrape away a few mistakes, and when the painter places down his paintbrush and steps away . . . there is a masterpiece. This is what God does. There will be ugly periods and periods of utter chaos and confusion, but in the end, when He finally puts down that paintbrush, we will still be a beautiful and lovely masterpiece, because we have a God who takes everything and uses it for good. 

The reason this is step two is because of this – how many perspectives of our past do we receive if we look at it by ourselves? One. One and only one.

However, if we first seek the fellowship of others and allow them to step into our past, we will be better able to see it in a new light. It took a dear, dear friend to point out to me the manner in which I had been changed by my past, for both the better and the not so good. It was she who pointed out aspects I had never even considered or fathomed. Another reason it is step two is to prevent denial. There are many people who have experienced a great deal of pain, but instead of admitting to it, they deny it and sugarcoat it as a way of avoiding confronting it. Step one assures that the pain be acknowledged. Step two assures that it is then that it becomes transformed. Like a doctor, we need a second opinion in our healing process. A family member, a close friend, a pastor, a boyfriend or girlfriend . . . just someone you can trust. This is the only way we can reshape the perception of our pasts so that we may see the beauty amongst the ashes. 

The third step in the healing process is the hardest. It takes the most energy and the most selflessness. Step Three: we must release those who have hurt us.

This step can be seen as the battle between getting well and getting even.

I have had an interesting relationship with this step. On one hand, I have looked at the three key people who have hurt me the most in my life and I have, for long periods of time, believed to have forgiven them. I have uttered the words and have even prayed for them and sincerely wished them well. However, during moments when the hurt arose from the smoke, I have found myself cursing them and wishing against all hope to have never laid eyes upon them. I have sought to release those who have hurt me, but it was not until October of 2008 that I really took the steps to make it a permanent release as opposed to a conditional and convenient release. 

We must, we MUST, if we are to heal, release the emotional burden of judgment. 
We are taught from childhood that only God can judge. Do you know why? Because, God is the only Being that can judge without destroying His own character. God will judge the quick and the dead. We cannot judge a person without in some way compromising our character. Judging does not bring healing. 

Romans 12: 17-21 says “Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay," says the Lord. On the contrary: "If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

1 Peter 2:23 says, “When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly.”
Here is a central thought: Hurt people, hurt people.

When we are hurting, we distance ourselves emotionally. We strike out preemptively. We act like frightened creatures in a corner, and we disguise this persona by stating, “Well, I just don’t trust people.” Hurt people, hurt people.

We don’t do it intentionally. Half of the time, we don’t even realize that we are hurting anyone in our own attempt at not being hurt. I know that stored hurt and pain has caused me to lash out at others in a manner I have never done before, and it is always those I love most who bare the brunt of my verbal assaults. I look at the relationship I am in now, and I have realized that in my attempt to be guarded, following my assertion that I “just don’t trust easily,” I have caused harm and frustration. The unusual thing that I have realized is that the person who is feared is the one who feels like a victim. Hurt people, hurt people.

Now, let’s just clear it up by saying everyone is going to hurt some people and not all of it is from some deep seeded hurt. People hurt people as well. But, those who are hurting are even more prone to hurt. Take a family dog. The dog could have been as docile and gentle as can be, but when a dog becomes ill or greatly injured, one will see the dog become defensive. I have had pets who never once even growled at me attempt to bite me when they are ill or hurt. 
Hurt people, hurt people. The good news is that Jesus is the Humble Healer. But, while He says His burden is easy and His yoke is light, He also says that He takes only what He is given. We have to let go. And letting go means letting go of the condemnation, the anger, and the sense of judgment. Forgiveness is the third step.

Step four is a bit easier. Refocusing our thoughts on the future that we have in Christ. 
Job is a wonderful example of this. Here is a man who lost everything – his home, his family, and even his animals. Not much was spared. The level of his hurt and anguish can only be fathomed. Yet, these words were written:

Job 11: 13-16 “Yet if you devote your heart to him and stretch out your hands to him, if you put away the sin that is in your hand and allow no evil to dwell in your tent, then you will lift up your face without shame; you will stand firm and without fear. You will surely forget your trouble, recalling it only as waters gone by.”

God never said that the road we travel would be easy, only that we will not go it alone. 
Proverbs 4:25 says, “Let your eyes look straight ahead, fix your gaze directly before you.”
Philippians 4:8 says, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

It is like running a race. Your feet are at the starting line. You can feel the heat of the people around you. You wait for that starting gun to blast. Your legs clench and you flex your fist in anticipation. When that gun sounds, your eyes are fixed ahead of you – right at your goal – that finish line. 

Like in a race, you don’t waste time looking around you. You lock eyes with the prize and goal and you thrust your entire self into reaching it. We can’t live in the past. We can’t attempt to postpone or delay our future by dwelling in memories of days long gone. We can’t stand in an hourglass and attempt to stop the sand from dropping just because we are not ready. We sleep and we wake, and the world continues on, with or without us. It is up to us to let go of the past, to learn, to grow, and to keep running. The pain that happens in our past is like tripping in that race. We may only do a small stumble, or our knees may scrape the ground . . . but, we have to rise again and keep running. We won’t get anywhere if we keep looking back or dwelling upon it. 

The goal is Christ. He is the ultimate finish line. 

Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

This is God’s plan. His ultimate plan for our lives.

Step five is the culmination of our healing – a sort of graduation present. The last step of healing is to reach out to others.

There is a unique sort of healing that occurs when you help another person. I have found that when I realize that it is room my past pain that I can not only relate to others, but also help others heal, I heal even more. I have often wondered, “Why did this happen to me, Lord?” But, when I am looking in the eyes of a friend who is hurting from the same thing, it all suddenly makes sense. We are a part of a bigger picture. Our lives will affect and influence others. 
Sometimes the greatest joy is achieved not by doing something for the self, but by doing something for others. Life is a two-way street this way. The delight you see in another's face upon going out of your way to help will bring joy to your own soul. We, by nature, are social beings. We enter this world as a result of another's actions and we thrive within it through a cohesive partnership with our fellow man. Thus, it should be no shocking surprise that much of our pleasure occurs within the context of relationships. This should cause us to realize that our every action has a universal dimension and can impact others. We control this power. We hold the reigns and choice to positively influence the happiness of others with ethical traits of love, patience, peace, forgiveness, sincerity, self-control, and mercy. Happiness, while being derived from within, is influenced by our interaction and response to outward stimuli; therefore, happiness results from what we think and feel in our experiences with others and view of ourselves.

Life is as beautiful as it is tragic, and it is up to you to not only learn, mature, and grow from past heartaches, pains, and hardships, but to instruct others so that they may learn from your own lesser moments. In many ways, your misfortune can also be your ministry. Sorrowfully, many people would rather be assured of misery than chance being happy. I, myself, have known many such people who prefer delighting in admissions of depression than in the potential for contentment.

You must learn to take the good with the bad, for when you learn from the upsetting parts of life you will better appreciate the good when placed in comparison to them. Some see life through rose-colored glasses and others refuse to acknowledge the blessings – there must be a happy medium. Accept life for what it is – a learning experience – a series of trial and error. There will be success and there will be failure, and we must learn to value both, for I have found that it is in our darkest of moments, our times of ultimate failure, that we are granted the opportunity to scrutinize ourselves and all of our weaknesses so that we may realize our strengths. 

The process is simple. We hurt, we heal, and then we help others.

2 Corinthians 1:4 “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.”