Skip to main content

Psalm 147:3


Weary heart so destroyed it shouldn’t beat
It seems whole until shadows change, displaying thousands of scars
All different shapes and sizes; a roadmap of past sorrow laid bare
I trace them remembering, thankful for piercing needle and suture
I am hemorrhaging again, sucking in sharp breath through pain
A pain that deceives healed wounds that time alone could not heal
I alone could not heal
It seems selfish to ask in light of what He has already given
But once again I rip out this heart that has betrayed me
With fallen earth and sordid transgressions
And once again He willingly takes my scarred heart, mangled, bleeding
Handling the damaged flesh like it means something more
With gentle hands that numb the anguish, He grafts over brokenness
The unbearable pain becomes a dull ache that continues to fade, like a scar
By grace, it beats
Linking this to imperfect prose today, because I am broken and in this Lenten season, I desire to focus on Jesus as my sole Redeemer.

Comments

Joybird said…
Raw and familiar. I too have wounds in my heart. But thanks only to my Jesus, I have some scars that used to be wounds! I am so grateful. Praying that your scars outnumber your wounds.
Brian Miller said…
viceral write...i think we all carry those scars in our own ways, yet only by His grace...
Bethany Ann said…
uh-huh. makes me think of that sara groves song that goes, "in Your hands, the pain and hurt look less like scars and more like... character."
I feel this, I too have such a hemorrhaging heart. Prayers for you!
Bev said…
this i know...
by the grace of god we are healed...
Wow, I really feel the pain in the heart in this. Ouch. May the dull fade go quickly!! (and I LOVE the photo)
emily wierenga said…
Handling the damaged flesh like it means something more

oh jadie... you do mean so much more...
i hear his heart beat in you... love to you, sister.

Popular posts from this blog

Reasons

Shortly after the New Year, I took about a three week break from Facebook, deleting the app from my phone. I felt that it was in my best interest. As a whole, it made me feel wretched about myself (or bitter, or judgmental, or a slew of other negative emotions). Not to mention the amount of time I wasted.

It was hard at first, as most habits are, to break. But, as the days went on, it became easier, and I had more time to be engaged in the present. I was looking less at my phone for the red notifications. However, there were certain things I missed, such as seeing pictures of those that live far away, or sharing in others' happy news.

So, after some time, and after I felt like I had found some balance, I decided to log back in. It was the day after the inauguration and the day of the women's march. Two of my best friends and I went together. We joined about 5,000 others in Riverside. People of differing beliefs and backgrounds came together in solidarity, each person choosing …

Empty Frames

I have a penchant for vintage things. I am drawn to them - books, accessories, paintings, and so on. I read inscriptions in old books and wonder what that person was like, or who painted this picture (and why was it discarded)?

I have had this empty, old frame forever. It is painted gold and has beautiful carvings adorning it that have been chipped by age and carelessness. One of the corners is no longer flush.




But, I simply love it. It hangs over an old white cupboard that incidentally has chipped paint as well. My husband and boys don't understand why I have had an empty frame up for years; they think it is extremely weird.
In all actuality, it reminds me of hope. No doubt it once displayed a magnificent painting, but that was a different season. It now waits and hopes to be purposed again. In some ways, I feel like I have been stripped of the magnificent, soul-bare and I am, too, waiting.
Another one of my favorite pieces is just a small painting with an interesting frame.


When I …