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Wounds and Scars

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The following piece by Amy Carmichael has long been a challenging favorite of mine.

It is real…
It is earthy…
It speaks of the truth that wounds and scars are a part of life…

Not something to run away from…
Not something to turn us into victims…
Not the end of the journey…

Rather, it’s the beginning of the journey.

What wounds do you have that you have tried to cover, to fix, to identify you?

In my book Sacred Space I wrote a chapter called Sacred Wounds. The big idea of the chapter is how God longs to take our wounds and redeem them in order to become restorative for others…yet, if we leave them unattended, they turn into bitter wounds and we become victims… and victims never realize the power of wounds and realized in scars when redeemed.

Hast Thou No Scar 

by Amy Carmichael

Hast thou no scar?
No hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?
I hear thee sung as mighty in the land,
I hear them hail thy bright ascendant star,
Hast thou no scar?

Hast thou no wound?
Yet, I was wounded by the archers, spent.
Leaned me against the tree to die, and rent
By ravening beasts that compassed me, I swooned:
Hast thou no wound?

No wound? No scar?
Yet as the Master shall the servant be,
And pierced are the feet that follow Me;
But thine are whole. Can he have followed far
Who has no wound nor scar?

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Pry Me Off Dead Center: Loder

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This was a great way to start the day, another great poem from Guerrillas Of Grace: Prayers For The Battle

Pry Me Off Dead Center

O persistent God,
deliver me from assuming your mercy is gentle.
Pressure me that I may grow more human,
not through the lessening of my struggles,
but through an expansion of them

that will undamn me
and unbury my gifts.

Deepen my hurt
until I learn to share it
and myself
openly,
and my needs honestly.

Sharpen my fears
until I name them
and release the power I have locked in them
and they in me.

Accentuate my confusion
until I shed those grandiose expectations
that divert me from the small, glad gifts
of the now and the here and the me.

Expose my shame wherever it shivers,
crouched behind the curtains of propriety,
until I can laugh at last
through my common frailties and failures,
laugh my way toward becoming whole.

Deliver me
from just going through the motions
and wasting everything I have
which is today,
a chance,
a choice,
my creativity
your call.

O persistent God,
let how much it all matters
pry me off dead center
so if I am moved inside
to tears

or sighs
or screams
or smiles
or dreams,
they will be real
and I will be in touch with who I am
and who you are
and who my sisters and brothers are.

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God of the Silent Moments

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O G-d of the silent moments,

veiling Yourself in mystery and question,

capture my soul…find me.

When Your people gravitate left and right,

and miss You in the shadowlands.

capture my soul…realign me.

As my grace turns to judgment,

reestablishing the barriers that you took down,

capture my soul…restore me.

Your silence creates a hunger,

but my diet is junk food,

a spirituality that makes you feel full, but has no nourishment.

Without your voice,

my choices fall into manmade categories,

and I miss the sliver of grace that defines Your love.

But when You speak so that I can hear,

I see things in a different light,

the log removed and the cheek turned,

O G-d, capture my soul