Sometimes the healing takes time.

The process of recovery is never an immediate one. When we’re hurt, when we lose our job, when we go under for an operation – whatever it is, when it’s over, the process is not.

If we’ve lost our job, the process of finding another one is never immediate. It can take days, it can take months, sometimes it can even take years. The process requires we pick ourselves up, brush off the sense of rejection and inadequacy and bust our tails until we find work again. The recovery takes time.

The same is true of a patient undergoing surgery. Once they have been operated on, they leave the hospital, yes. But the process goes on. It can take days, but more often weeks until they’re back to their usual selves, with no restriction on what they can and can’t do. The surgeon discharges them from their care much earlier on, but the recovery – it takes time.

How much more is this true of us, when our hearts have been hurt and scars have been left behind. Indeed, our hearts do hurt. And just as with the loss of employment or the completion of an operation, if we don’t follow the “rules”, if we don’t take the necessary steps – our hearts may never heal. The recovery may never happen.

But unlike most other things in our lives, there is NOTHING that necessitates our hearts will ever recover.

With a job loss, if we don’t recover – we eventually find ourselves unable to pay the bills, and the bank’s collectors scream recovery until we listen.

With surgery, if we don’t seek the rest we require – our wounds will become infected, our incisions may open and our state of health will scream rest until we listen.

But when our hearts are hurt, it is too easy to ignore their protests. From their depths they are pleading to be healed – they are begging for affirmation, for love, for sincerity. But instead of heeding their call, instead of listening to the truths they cry, we bury them. We erect walls so that they cannot be heard. We answer their deep longings with men who will make us feel loved, with distractions that make us forget what we lack and with substances that numb the pain – if just for an hour.

But occasionally, the hurt is too great for us to ignore it any longer. Occasionally it cries out with an undeniable cry – and we have a chance to respond. We become conscious of the pain that exists. And then we’re faced with this heart-wrenching choice. YES, it should be easy to say yes to healing. But it’s not.

It’s easy to say yes today, but tomorrow, when it gets hard and loneliness sets in, it’s no longer easy. That’s when the healing begins to take time. It means we will go through times of knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that we are deeply and passionately loved, to times where we just feel worthless. Those are the times we cry out to the only One who can heal us, to wrap His arms around us, to give us the peace He has promised, and to once again reassure us that we are precious. That we are beautiful. And that no conversation, no phone call and no friendship can change that.

Truth is just truth.

Surgery.

... because I've just completed a 2 week rotation in surgery

To be a surgeon, you have to be very patient. See, as our persons grow and mature, as we live our lives –going to work, attending church, developing friendships, existing as a sister or brother or uncle – our bodies too are growing. Their insides are changing. They’re doing so many things they should be doing, and then the odd thing they shouldn’t be. Tissue is growing, things are stuck together, and that’s all normal. We live on.

But when a surgeon operates, they must be patient.

When they pierce the skin and insert their first retractor, what they see is not what is found in an anatomy textbook. No – years of growth necessitates that not everything is as you or I might expect. The insides of a person are never predictable. All the necessary organs are present and functioning, but they are not isolated. There are bands of tissue sticking them together, occasionally interfering with their function and obscuring the view of the person on the outside.

So are our insides – so is our heart.

Yes, it exists in its original form, with an inherent desire to be loved and a natural capacity to love. It is constantly searching for the answers to life’s greatest questions as it beats on day in and day out. But it, too, is affected by our growth. As we have risked parts of our heart, as we have loved and been loved, as we have been vulnerable and felt rejection, so too has our natural state been shifted. And so, just as the insides of no two people are identical, so too – the hearts of no two people can be the same.

Now for the surgeon to accomplish their task, they must gently pry away those things that don’t belong. They peel back layers and proceed cautiously until they obtain their critical view – the perfect plane through which they have the access they require to operate. If they move too quickly or carelessly, they risk complications and so, before surgery can begin, a patient must agree to these potential risks, or the surgeon cannot proceed.

I think our hearts are hidden and Christ, Himself, is our divine surgeon.

Knowing exactly what is buried beneath the mess, He slowly peels back our layers until we are revealed. He proceeds gently, knowing what we can handle and what will come later. He is patient beyond patient and capable beyond understanding. He, too, cannot proceed until we give our consent – but unlike the fallible surgeon, our healer can do no wrong. The God of this Universe knows our anatomy. He knows how to draw our hearts out of the tightest bondage and in to the greatest of freedoms.

So, I think it’s time to sign the consent form.

Heart attacks... litterally.

When someone has a heart attack, it's because a part of their heart has been deprived of oxygen for a period of time. If they aren't treated quickly enough and the vessel remains blocked, that part of their heart necroses and the tissue dies. Depending on how significant the heart attack is and how much of the heart is without oxygen, it can leave a heart's function pretty impaired - such that every time they exert themselves physically, they are unable to adequately pump blood to the rest of their body and soon have to stop to catch their breath - and this damage cannot be reversed. If they have multiple heart attacks, the damage is multiplied, until eventually their heart is overwhelmed and ceases to function.

When our hearts are wounded emotionally, I think the same thing happens. At first, if the hurt is small, maybe we don't notice it - so we venture out and try to love again. But as the hurts accumulate, our capacity to love is impaired, so now, when people get too close or we find ourselves vulnerable, we pull back - we need to stop and catch our breath because we no longer feel able to love or be loved so deeply.

But then the difference between the two is that, with a heart attack, the damage can't be reversed. Once scar tissue is deposited, it cannot be revived to life. Our emotional heart is not so - instead of blood clots blocking the blood bessels, I think we've placed clamps over them. The effect is the same - that part of our heart is not longer accessible, but the long term effects are not. I believe that God can reach into the depths of our heart and re-infuse them with His love. I think He can teach us to love again- He can bring our hearts back to life.

The reason we (i) blog

I think there's a reason this blogging business has become so rampant.
I think it's the same reason the '25 things' facebook activity spread like wildfire.

We all want to be known and loved.
We want to bear our souls and find approval from those who come our way.
So whether it's an anonymous passerby, or the choice few we share our thoughts with, I think we are looking for acceptance.

So let me not suggest my intentions are otherwise.
My soul, too, longs to be known and cherished.

BUT
The more I live, the more I know that this inherent desire of my heart may never be satisfied by the things of this physical world.
There is no one who could ever fully know or perfectly love me.
And that's okay.

I think that's how we're meant to live.

This desire inside of us points us to the only One who will ever know the depths of our hearts; to the One whose love will never falter.
Yes, even before the words of my mind leave my fingers, the God of this universe knows them - and He calls them beautiful.

He calls me beautiful. for He has created me.
I am His most precious and cherished daughter.
Because I have been baptized into His family, I have become royalty.
He is the King of creation and so I am His princess.

So whether or not I know it or seek affirmation through this blog...
There is a God who knows my name, who has counted the hairs on my head and has chosen to love me passionately.