Shedding Hurts

It’s been nearly a year since my last “shedding”. I wish I could say I’ve been leaping and twirling my way through healing since my last post. Instead, I’ve woven a cocoon and wrapped myself in self-protective layers. Some have brought healing, others pain.

The funny thing about being in a cocoon is you can only feast off of what you bring into the cocoon. Instead of the makings for a beautiful butterfly, I brought the makings of a moth.

I’ve spent the last year nursing my wounds in my self-made cocoon. At least that is what I thought I was doing. I was actually feeding a monster inside me with poison. All of this poison was fueled by my sense of justice. I deserved justice for my pain, heartache, and loss of all my hopes and dreams. I searched my areas of influence looking for a judge for this trial and finding none, became my own wounded, festering judge and jury. Then I brought all his sins to trial.

How you ask?

With my tongue.

I have spewed, hurled, spit, and vomited the diatribe of my pain to all who would sit or stand still long enough to listen. To the victim of a crime, justice tastes sweet. But when the kind of justice I wanted didn’t manifest, my vindictive dialogue of my ex’s deceit and actions fed a monster inside me. It has many names, is bigger than unforgiveness and infinitely darker and deeper:

The most obvious one – bitterness. After all, you can’t spew and hurl without the proper catapult for words and pain. It just doesn’t work as well.

Next – resentment. Every victim should be allowed to have it. Dreams, hopes, plans and the like are destroyed, so resentment steps in and sets up shop.

Then - judgment. You can’t have justice without a judgment. I pronounced him guilty on all charges in every conversation. I hurled and shared every secret sin I knew of and all the ways they hurt me.

These things were wrapped up in their own cocoon – entitlement. I was entitled to my dreams, hope, and future…so with all destroyed, I was entitled to my brand of justice.

These are some of the ugliest titles I’ve ever carried with me. There are many more – self- pity, hatred, vengefulness, etc, - all worthy of their own blog entries for another time.

You would think that a seasoned “mature Christian” woman like myself would see the writing on the wall and purge these things early on; but entitlement got in the way. Just like my ex felt entitled to his secrets, I felt entitled to my pain with all its accoutrements.

Cocooned in my entitlement, I’ve clutched these pains while crying out to my Jesus to “take this and make something beautiful!”

He couldn’t.

You see, the only thing that renders the Lord impotent in creating a beautiful future is us clinging to an ugly past. It takes away His power and authority from our destiny.

So I give up my right and entitlement to spew about my ugly past, my ex, my pain; and I give up my right and entitlement to clutch all the ugly titles that come with it.

I set it at the cross..,

Wait for holy fire…

Then watch as He takes ashes and makes something beautiful.

Isaiah 61:3a, “To give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord that He may be glorified. And they shall rebuild the old ruins, they shall raise up the former desolations, and shall repair the ruined cities…”