Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Rolling Ink on It

No one can say 'he jests at scars' who never felt a wound.' -c.s. lewis

I found this video this week and I had to share. Because the past few weeks, I've been over headaches and the pain (in my neck, literally). I've been over them, I've been over lying in the dark for too many days at once.

And yet, I decided to feature pain and scars and all things I mostly hate talking about because I love you, and I think God is doing something in all this. 

I'm getting better at talking about things I don't like. I'm getting better at being honest and true when I say there's definite good that comes from things that in and of themselves are horrible like migraines. And the kinds of things people experience that leave them with scars that are actually more visible. 

What is helping me? I think it's this concept of rolling on the ink. Listen to the video to find out what I mean (especially minute 5.27 talks about this).



"Everybody has their challenge and the scar represents what could be the biggest challenge of their life."

I've hit near-bottom a couple of times. This looks different for everyone. For me, this usually looks like trying to find a solution/a cure for the pain on my own. Sometimes it's feeling 'stuck in this body that doesn't work,' to quote the artist. Sometimes it's just pain overwhelming my body.

"Usually people have gone through the process of healing and they're ready to let someone see it or touch it...but it usually doesn't happen early on."

'I've had a number of people who no one has even touched their scar...until I roll ink on it."

There's something beautiful in allowing people to get near enough to your pain to touch your scar. Because that's what Jesus does. Time and time again, he gets close and he touches people. He shows his love by touching what is painful and complex.

I don't like most people getting that near to my pain.

But I'm learning another leg in the journey is recognizing how little freedom there is there.

I must roll ink on it. I must let the scars become visible.

Step one becomes a gentle reminder that I do not always have to be so strong.

This is a lesson I learn again and again.

I hate the pain for lasting so long and making me so needy and keeping me in the dark. And making me reach a point where it can no longer just be a minor irritation that I hoped it was but if it really lasts that long then I must let people into the dark I experience (literally) and explain to them in a way they will or won't (probably won't, I assume) understand.

There's no light there.

I realize I need hope again.

Hope, not only when there's a neat, tidy way to look back and explain all God is done. Not when things clear up quickly, thank you very much. Hoping and praising then is easy..ei: thank you God all of this mess didn't interfere too much with my daily life.

The truest kind is when I have to remember the old familiar melody singing hope back into my darkest days, however soft.

My hope song always returns. It's always there.

...again I roll the ink.

And let his healing balm be the one to treat the worn out places deep inside.

Lord, you are good. You are light. You redeem my soul from going down to the pit, and I will live to enjoy the light. The Light shines in the darkness. Thank you that you shine into the places inside of me in dire need of you. 

Help me to remember that no scars define who I am and that everything I am depends on you alone. Help me be good to myself and to others and roll ink on scarred and broken places. That still you see, God, that you touch.

Give us courage to believe again today that you are a God who heals and restores, but more than anything, you see everything and love us...thank you that you call us yours.

linking with michelle for hear it sunday, use it monday and emily for imperfect prose

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