“Be still and allow the wounds to be still also.”
| Consider reading Freedom and Confidence and then return here to enhance the imagery. |
Pain vibrates with energy. When something hurts, adrenaline revs up and survival instincts are quick to respond. Precise movements ensue to put an end to the pain. Why allow a bleeding gash to remain open and exposed any longer than necessary? This is an intellectually sound reaction in responding to physical wounds but what about soul wounds? The kind acquired in the midst of spiritual warfare and this broken world? Rejection, insult, loss, tragedy, depression, trial. I’ve come to understand that some soul wounds are best treated entirely different than flesh wounds.
The act of bandaging up our own soul wounds, as if it were a flesh wound, often causes excess pain and damage. We are only looking to hide and end the pain, not work through it. More often than not, we’ll set the wound wrong and, like a broken bone, the only way to fix it is to break it again. This is why Jesus is called ‘Healer’, not you or I.
The first thing I imagine Jesus saying to me as He rushes over to my freshly wounded side is, “Be still…and allow the wounds to be still also.” Naturally, this will then allow Jesus to look us over and see the gaping holes ripped into our fragile souls by the weapons of darkness. He asks us to refrain from managing and hiding our intimate, emotional pain so He can see it and pick out the debris. The very act of allowing Jesus to see our wounds often shames and hurts more than the healing itself.
In this place and in these moments, when our spiritual energy is gone and our spirit is broken, Jesus beckons us to come and be still. Let the wounds be still also. He calls us to find refuge in the throne room. Lean against a cool, marble pillar, the third one in on the right if you must, and let your body and soul fall there.
If you’re like me, that is where you’ll stay for a while; in the temple, hiding behind the third pillar on the right as you walk in. Unable to move, pure white garments drenched in sweat and stained with dirt. Blood drips from the wounds on your brow and lip and bruises rise slowly as your chest heaves quickly to steal a breath.
After a moment, settled in, foot steps can be heard rushing from the throne to meet you where you are. The robes of Jesus brush your skin as He comes to your side to tend to you and heal you. He’ll remain with you there, the third pillar in on your right as you enter, whispering, “Be still and allow the wounds to be still also.”