(This post came from a journal entry written just before Hope's 1st birthday, about two years ago. I was learning to lean a bit more on my Heavenly Father for comfort instead of putting forth so much of my own efforts, but still had no idea how much more healing was in store for me. Or was even possible.)
"He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds." (Psalm 147:3)
"Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted." (Matthew 5:4)
In the aftermath of deep emotional pain, I wanted to believe these words. They sure sounded good, but how?? How does one achieve this healing and comfort the Scriptures speak of? I'd been angry, I'd been sad, I'd thrown a couple of things, cried countless times, until I was just sick of it all. It was nearing my baby girl's birthday, and I didn't want to cry anymore. Didn't want to keep doing things that hurt just because they were supposed to help me heal. Didn't want to talk about it to people who wouldn't understand, but would try to give advice anyway.
Grief can be selfish. Just like all forms of depression, it can be easy to get used to where we're at and want to stay there. We know we hurt, and there's got to be something better for us down the road . . . but it's so familiar, we become justified in our sadness. It's comfortable, and we have every right to hold onto it, since we're never getting that special person back. It becomes who we are. A part of us, and we're not sure we want to let it go.
Healing is too long, and too hard. The constant cleaning of so deep a wound becomes too much to bear. Will we ever truly be healed, anyway? Couldn't we just replace the bandaid every now and then and be done with it? I could just pretend to be okay.
"This hurts, daddy."
One night, about two in the morning, I woke up crying for my baby. That's when God spoke, and I finally realized what I hadn't understood before. He said, "Give me your pain. There is a difference between crying, and crying out to me. I want you to cry to me. I want you to tell me how you feel. This pain doesn't belong to you. Give it to me and let me give you comfort."
You see, I had come to dislike my tears. They made me feel weak, and vulnerable. I was even a little afraid of them. What if I started to cry and couldn't stop. What if they led to complete emotional breakdown. What if they just made me feel worse. These were lies.
Everything God creates, He creates for a reason. If used in the correct way, tears make us stronger. They are a very, very good thing. If we communicate our feelings to God, we will be closer to Him, and to the comfort and healing or whatever is that we need.
Our tears are precious to God. I love this verse, Psalm 56:8:
You Yourself have recorded my wanderings.
Put my tears in Your bottle.
Are they not in Your records?
That night, I opened my Bible to Isaiah 49, and God showed me these words:
For the Lord comforts His people and will have compassion on His afflicted ones.
But Zion said, "The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me."
Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has born?
Though she may forget, I will not forget you!
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands . . . (verses 13-16)
If you are feeling discouraged or sad, just remember we serve a heavenly daddy who not only knows how many hairs are on your head and how many tears you've cried, but who also longs to give you everything you need in exchange for your surrender to Him and an intimate relationship with Him. If you're hurting, won't you come to the Father and tell Him how much it hurts? You won't be complaining, you'll be lamenting, and I promise you will be rewarded for it.