I have a scar on my right leg. It has been there since I was in the first grade. Shortly after school started, I was playing with a neighbor on their swing-set and as my Mom had called me to come in and start homework, I walked up the hill from our neighbor’s house. Half-way up the hill I fell. What I didn’t know at the time was that I had fallen on a scythe cut branch and a piece of it had broken off, puncturing my leg. I had a gaping hole where it entered. Of course, it caused quite a stir when I got inside our house and for what seemed like months on end I was unable to walk, missed school quite a bit and went to the doctor. Although this all happened sixty years ago, I remember many things about it like it was yesterday. After several weeks (or it could be months) the stick actually fell out of my leg through the same hole it punctured.
To look at the scar, it’s healed. The skin is softer, smoother, and lighter, but it’s healed. Until I hit it up against something, then I know it’s there. It hurts worse than hitting my leg even an inch above or below the scar. It’s an old wound.
Old wounds are not always visible. They are old and they blend into your body and for most of the time, you do not think of them.
Years ago, while living in San Diego, and going through a difficult time, the Lord showed me these verses in Psalm 55. 12 For it is not an enemy who reproaches me,
Then I could bear it; Nor is it one who hates me who has exalted himself against me, Then I could hide myself from him. 13 But it is you, a man my equal, My companion and my familiar friend; 14 We who had sweet fellowship together Walked in the house of God in the throng.
It talks about being hurt by a friend, a confident. I haven’t thought of those verses for a long time. I know I have reread them often, but the poignant meaning they held for me hasn’t hit me until the last few days. I thought that wound was healed. I thought it didn’t cause pain anymore, and yet, it has. That wound has been hit up against something sharp the past week and I have ached because of it. It has been opened up again, not a gaping wound, but enough to feel it ooze out and around my spirit.
I actually did not think about old wounds until this evening. Psalm 55 goes on to say, 16 As for me, I shall call upon God, And the Lord will save me. 17 Evening and morning and at noon, I will complain and murmur, And He will hear my voice. 18 He will redeem my soul in peace from the battle which is against me,
I have gone back and forth in my thoughts and prayers this past week. I have complained and murmured. I have sputtered and spewed. But, tonight, as I stopped long enough to hear, I heard “old wounds”.
Old wounds are there for a purpose. They have taught us a lesson in the past. They are reminders of the lessons we were supposed to have learned. Sometimes we forget. We enjoy where we are and what we are doing. We relax. Then that proverbial coffee table appears out of nowhere in the dark and we hit that shin, or that knee and pain appears.
So, for now, I am aware of that coffee table and I am going to turn my focus on the One who hears my voice. He will restore my soul and maybe this time that old wound will be healed for good.
Thanks for stopping by today, Cathi (DAF)