Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Bleeding with Hope

These past 2 years and 10 months have been full.
I thought I would finish that sentence much differently than that, but full is the right word. 

Full of grief, pain, sorrow, searching, questioning, learning to live again; full of tears and longing.


"But few of us enter the tragedy of living in a fallen world and simultaneously struggle with God until our hearts bleed with hope. We either give into pain with a hopeless cynicism, or we settle for an artificial resolution that insists that things really aren't too bad and we need not muck around in the 'negatives' of life."

"Healing in this life is not the resolution of our past; it is the use of our past to draw us into deeper relationship with God and his purposes for our lives."*


My life these past 2 years and 10 months has also been full of love, comfort, and a closeness to my Heavenly Father that I never thought I would have. Feeling love, comfort and closeness is not my goal. It (the feeling) does not always come, but it's a part of growing in an intimate and deeper relationship with my God. The end goal is not a feeling, it is not healing; it is a sweet and deep relationship with the One who made me. 

I love what the author says above about bleeding hope. Oh, haven't we all desired hope, but to bleed hope? That indicates a wound; a hurt that penetrates and scars. It sounds painful.

Reading these words has validated my grief in a way that I've been longing to hear. I've always run towards my grief with my arms open, ready to feel and hurt. Whatever grief needed me to do, I was ready. I knew it was the right thing for me to do. I knew I needed to feel every part of my loss. I needed to grieve. I didn't want to put my grief in a box and hide it away because I was a Christian and should just 'let go and let God.' It's been suggested to me in conversation, in looks, and in other sorts of non-verbal communication that I should just move on, get over, and stop dwelling on the past (as if Owen is my past and not a part of me). 

I think it's important to understand that we shouldn't (and don't need to) throw the blanket of God's sovereignty over our suffering and pretend that we aren't hurt or deeply affected by our grief. 

We need to open our hearts to the pain and sorrow and take it all to God. Run to him with our arms open and fall at his feet with all our baggage. He's not pretending our grief/pain/suffering/sadness doesn't exist. He sees it more clearly than we do. He sees the whole picture; the beautiful story working itself in our lives and in the lives of all his children. And he's making all things new and beautiful.


Hopefully, I haven't come across self righteous- like I know it all. Because I surely don't. This is just what I've learned in almost 3 years of carrying the weight of grief and I hope it benefits and validates you as you struggle with whatever is causing pain.


*The Healing Place by Dan B. Allender, PH.D.

2 comments:

Lacy said...

I don't think I've commented before, but I have been reading your blog for along time now.

This is one of the most beautiful posts I've ever read.

Thank you for your vulnerability & sharing where the Lord has brought you. You are an encouragement to me.

Groves said...

You do not come across as self righteous, not at all - just honest, and I love it.

I don't understand why dishonesty is so easily accepted in this culture, but I'm glad you don't go along.

Especially as Christians, if there is no room to be transparent about real life and real pain, how are we any different than the world? It becomes just another version of "The Secret," where you have to make sure you "think positive" so that good things will come to you. This is hardly Christianity.

Every time I read your posts, I think, "I hope she never believes the ones who are trying to make her be quiet" and then, "I hope this reaches a wider audience."

Maybe there really isn't anyone trying to make you be quiet - but I know what you mean...those glances, those comments...all to suggest that it really isn't in good taste for you to feel grief.

Nonsense. You are exactly right: Owen is a part of you, and that is never going to change. Even in eternity, it won't change. Why should you pretend now!?

I like your writing and I like *you*. Your thoughts are very welcome.

Love,

Cathy in Missouri