The Healer of Our Hurt

Most of the time, there’s no warning.
No written notice in the mail.

No alarm bells to tell you something’s wrong.

Or maybe you just didn’t recognize all the wrong until it shows up unannounced at the door of the relationship in question.

Having someone you love walk out of your life and never look back stings in ways that leave marks on your heart and scars on your subconscious.

It’s hard to forget the sound of something you treasured shattering at the touch.

It’s hard to ignore the agony of knowing you might never talk to that person again.

It’s hard to unsee the glimpses of the future you imagined together.

Now, the last days you shared replay in your mind, torturing you slowly.

I straddle current relationships with reminders of what I could lose and what I already lost. I’d rather choose to walk on eggshells to avoid the shattering silence. I pack my feelings up in a colorful box so no one has any choice but to stay.

I let people in, then expect them not to go away.

I trust people and expect them not to break their promises.

I open up in vulnerable ways, then expect them not to hurt me.

But people do go away.
They break their promises.
And they hurt me. Unknowingly. On purpose. Out of spite or out of their internal suffering.

They say, “hurt people hurt people.” What this saying doesn’t explicitly mention is that in one way or another– we’re all hurt people. We’ve all been burned. We’ve all been let down. We’ve all been stood up and walked over and forgotten and gossiped about. But at the same time, we’ve also been in situations where we did the letting down. Where we did the gossiping.

Where we did the hurting.

Maybe we didn’t mean to. Maybe we were blinded by so much of our own hurt that hurting another person didn’t seem so bad. Maybe we decided they deserved to be hurt for what they did to us. Maybe it was revenge for past pain or retaliation in the moment.

We have to understand that Hurt isn’t an endangered species. It’s not something that only lives in foreign, faraway lands. It roams our backyards and feeds off of everyday lives, everyday people, and everyday conversations. Hurt won’t go back to where it belongs because it’s found belonging here. 

Here in our sin-filled, fallen, broken world, Hurt thrives on enemy territory. It has entered dark places and spaces with such assertiveness that we often aren’t skeptical of what it’s doing or how it got so comfortable.

It’s made homes in our hearts, taken residency in our minds, and dwells amongst our days.

Hurt is tragically talented. It’s unimpressed by the strategies we use to soothe its ache. By nature, Hurt is a parasite that needs a host to survive. Its lifecycle depends on the host’s conditions, and it’s been instinctually bred to breed more hurt.

Hurt is easy to run back to. It often disguises itself as a familiar face in a sea of unrecognizable ones. But the truth is, this earthly Hurt won’t stop unless we tell it to. It will stay long past its expiration date. Whatever hurt has trespassed into our lives can’t stay forever and shouldn’t be allowed to. We have to be careful not to let our personal hurt infect our relationships with others. We must claim ownership over our hurt before it infects the good things we have. As soon as we accept this hurt is ours to bear, we can cast it into the mighty hands of God and watch as He damage-controls our hearts.

Whenever I fall into the trap laid out, I must remind myself that I already have a relationship with the only One who endures my hurt for me, the only One who provides a way out of earthly disappointment, suffering, and emotional pain. It shouldn’t be surprising that the only One who can heal us now is the same One who’s already healed us through His wounds, pain, and stripes.

“But He was wounded for our transgressions,

He was bruised for our iniquities;

The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,

And by His stripes, we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5)

We can and should bring our hurts to the God who designed our hearts. We’re only guaranteed to hurt more if we don’t. I’ve taught myself to run to God in these moments of deep ache. To sprint to His sovereignty over my situation. There were times over the last few weeks when I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but He breathed life back into me.

Not everyone in my life will stay. But He will. (Deuteronomy 31:8)

Not everyone in my life will like me. But He unfathomably loves me. (1 John 4:19)

Not everyone will remember to think about me as often as I think of them. But God’s thoughts for me outnumber the grains of sand (Psalm 139:17-18)

There is consistency in God’s love and presence. He is our constant stay and support (Psalm 18:18). “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18).

Sometimes, I just want someone to listen to me, understand me, and sit with me for a while. God does this for us better than anyone else could. I don’t think it’s wrong to hurt, but hurt can become detrimental when we leave it unaccompanied and alone. We must bring it to God to acknowledge where it hurts.

It is not by coincidence that, through these trying weeks, my daily Bible reading plan has landed on David’s heart-wrenching, emotional Psalms. I believe that the honesty and the rawness of the words David uses in his writing don’t just garner attention because they’re relatable but because of how God presents Himself in every emotion His children feel. He is not far from our inner groanings. He does not forget the tears we shed before Him.

At the same time, God does not withhold trials and heartache. There is still order in the world’s offense toward God’s people. There is everlasting victory over the vindictive bitterness we are bound to battle against on this side of Heaven.

In Pslams 56:8-11,

“You number my wanderings;

Put my tears into Your bottle;

Are they not in Your book?

When I cry out to You,

Then my enemies will turn back;

I know this because God is for me.

In God (I will praise His word),

In the Lord (I will praise His word),

In God, I have put my trust;

I will not be afraid.

What can man do to me?”

We are awarded the highest valor when we brave what doesn’t make sense. Our prayers of supplication and humble praise make up our battle cry against earthly suffering. God refreshes our souls when we render and give up our desire to understand why we hurt the way we do.

We may never get the chance to tie our Hurt up with a pretty bow and send it on its way. It may leave messy imprints on our hearts. We may not walk away with a clean cut but rather a wound that needs to be disinfected by forgiveness.

“Therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, put on tender mercies, kindness, humility, meekness, longsuffering; bearing with one another, and forgiving one another, if anyone has a complaint against another; even as Christ forgave you, so you also must do. But above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfection” (Colossians 3:14-16)

It would be a much nicer recovery process if there were an apology or, at the very least, an acknowledgment of wrongdoing, but we may wait weeks, months, or even years for it– if it ever comes at all. So, if we truly want to fix what has been broken, we must swallow any pride associated with the situation and walk into hard conversations with humility and lovingkindness.

Forgiveness is a gift—one that we’ve already been given by God and one that we have the power to give to others. If things were left unsaid, let us be the first to say what needs to be said. If words or actions have fragmented something we still care about, let us be the first to use our words and actions to try and fix it.

But if silence in a relationship is what hurts the most, let us be encouraged, through love and tender mercies, to be the first to break it.