Have you ever been hurt? I have.
Her bad treatment of our relationship on social media in plain view of our mutual friends stung.
How could she leave me out like she did? Say what she did? Abandon the friendship?
Before I could blink, I remembered other recent hurts. They pierced like a knife.
Don’t I matter?
I slowly slid to the end of my rope as I began to believe the bombardment of lies and let go of what I knew.
I didn’t want the lies to take root in my heart.
How can I heal from hurt?
Then I remembered my name Kelly means warrior. I am a WARRIOR WOMAN. #LookOutWonderWoman
This warrior woman knows about the armor of God. #Shieldsup #SwordInHand
The following is a fictional picture of me learning how to heal from hurt.
— — —
The First Strand
Staying in this pit of lies for one more second is inevitable destruction. I observe the rope in front of me, then use the tip of my sword to begin unraveling its end. The three strands dangle loosely.
That cord is my lifeline. Climbing up means taking a good hold of it. My eye catches an inscription at the bottom of a strand:
Admit you’re hurting.
“I’m fine,” I chuckle.
The inscription seems to brighten in response to my mechanical retort.
“Present a strong front at all times. Grin and bear it. I’m a masterful woman,” I counter.
“Not only am I trapped, but I’m losing it,” I say blushing, “I’m talking to a rope!”
In annoyance, I slice off the end of the strand in a flash, “I don’t reveal this truth to anyone!” The piece drops to the floor, the inscription still visible. Its words seem to burn its message into my heart.
I drop to my knee and pick it up, “Okay, you win. I’m hurting.” I turn it over, and read the fine print on the other side: “‘He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds’ (Psalm 147:3).’ I don’t know how that’s going to happen, but I think I’m about to find out.”
The Second Strand
The remaining two strands catch my eye. Eagerly, I pull the next strand toward me, and read its inscription.
Forgive the offender.
“You sure don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Glancing at the circular earthen walls around me, my heart sinks in disappointment. “I have forgiven!”
Still clutching the end, I scream: “I’M TOO DEEP DOWN; I’M STUCK IN PAIN FOREVER!”
My words echo in the cramped space. A tear splashes on my hand, a reminder I held the second strand.
I turn it over and read the fine print, “And Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’ (Luke 23:34).”
I envision the familiar story. “Jesus said He forgave the men who put Him on the cross—that’s deep. I’m not on a cross, but I am in this pit.”
Standing in the dimness, I tilt my head toward the distant light coming from the top of the pit. Renewed purpose moves me to action. “If this rope is the only item in this pit, then the key lies with the messages on the strands. And if forgiving is essential, then wisdom beckons to look at how Jesus forgave. ‘And Jesus said’—wait, ‘Jesus said.’ I need to say it.”
Directions now clear, I take hold of the rope and prepare to climb it.
“I forgive her.”
My words seem to activate a command to the pit to create a way out—flat, vertical stones instantly appear on the earthen wall. The unexpected change knocks me to the floor in a frightened heap. Resolve undaunted; I calculate they can be helpful. Grabbing the rope, I follow them with my eyes; they extend up the wall halfway to the top. Using them as stepping stones, I scale the wall as high as I can go until they cease.
The joy of escaping half the distance to the top of the pit vanishes as I dangle precariously, frantically looking for what to do next. Sweat gathers at the top of my brow, my hands burn from the rough rope cutting into my tender skin.
Desperate, I cry out, “I forgive her.”
Again, a few more slippery, flat, vertical stones emerge on the pit’s dirt wall. I climb as far as I can go, the top of the pit still a long way to reach. I wonder if saying it each time produces more footing to climb higher.
“Really? Okay. I forgive her.”
Each time I say it, more stones surface. To my surprise, the pain lessens and energy increases with every recurrence. Climbing to the top is effortless.
The Third Strand
At the top, I discover another barrier. Although I am now above ground, a glass wall encircles the pit. A narrow ledge juts from its base, too thin to hold one’s footing. Letting go of the rope is a perilous choice.
“There’s no way out?”
Then I remember there is a third strand. Balancing on the tiny ledge, the rope my only safety, I gather the rope in loops until its end comes into view. I hunt for the third strand and upon finding it read the inscription:
Erase the inventory.
“What?” Quickly, I flip it over, careful not to lose my balance, and read the fine print aloud, “‘Love is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged (1 Corinthians 13:5).’”
Instantly, the list of her offensive behavior toward me whirls in my mind, threatening to send me careening to the bottom of the pit. I reread the wisdom that I somehow know will remove the glass wall, opening my life to freedom once again.
“Erase the inventory. Love keeps no record.”
A glimmer of light catches the corner of my eye. A clipboard bearing my inventory of her hurtful actions materializes on the wall, a large eraser attached. Deliberately, I erase each offense, item by item. As the last one disappears from view, the glass wall vanishes into thin air.
My heart is healed.
Stepping into freedom never felt so good.
— — —
Remembering How to Heal from Hurt
When I feel hurt, it feels like someone pushed me into a pit. But I can’t stay there forever. I must remember how to heal from hurt.
People may choose to reject me, but it’s the devil who magnifies it and feeds the lies. He might treat me like a punching bag, but I get back up.People may choose to reject us, but it’s the devil who magnifies it and feeds the lies. Click To Tweet
In fact, it’s like I’m one of those dolls in the carnival—my feet are cemented in gold—and I rebound with Every. Single. Punch. #WarriorWoman
Excuse me while I get into my fighter spirit because I’m not going to die in a pit.
What about you? Are you hurting? If so, I want you to heal from hurt, too.
First, it’s not a sin to feel hurt.
Second, use the pain as an indicator that healing must take place. Use it as a reminder to forgive again so the pain will disappear.
Nobody likes living in pain. And sometimes the pain feels like you’re at the end of your rope.
But that rope is your lifeline to healing.