Vivian Chapman en Christianity, Christian Theology, Creative Writers 3/12/2017 · 5 min de lectura · ~100



I had a revelation today!

I was reading a blog article by Melusi Khomo and saw these words:

“He (God) is waiting to touch our deepest pain if we let Him. His healing is a type of divine exchange, in which we offer Him our hurt and He offers us His healing”

Well, I’m going to get a bit personal here, because it might help someone else.

I’m in my sixties, and over the years I have been hurt big time. I’m not going into any details because, in any case, it is not relevant to what I want to share. I have received inner wounds so terrible that no one could heal them: but Jesus healed them!

But, as Duke Vincentio said, in Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure: “in this life lie hid more thousand deaths”. He was attempting to reason away his fear of death by saying it only comes once, whereas our lives are filled with a myriad of small deaths every day.

That’s what I’m talking about: those thousand small deaths; minor wounds which don’t feel minor; hurts which pierce our souls to the core and leave us bleeding for months or years. And no one thinks it’s important, not even ourselves half the time.

I know Jesus as the healer of impossibly awful wounds. But then my husband says something to me…and he might as well have killed me. When I complain, all he says is, that he didn’t mean it. Well, he’s a man after all! Thing is, I don’t care whether he meant it: I am so hurt I can hardly speak. And he thinks it is nothing, especially as he “didn’t mean to” hurt me. So he belittles that hurt, and at that point, I split in two: my reason tells me off, and agrees with him that it is nothing. My soul however, is screaming. The pain in my soul is not only being denied by my husband, but it is now being denied by me.

Thinks: I hope he doesn’t read this!

And these thousand little deaths build up over time. A rift opens in our relationship. I don’t forgive him because there is “nothing” to forgive.

Have you been there, or is it just me?

Well, as I said, today God gave me a major revelation. My husband may think the hurt is nothing reasonable, and by now I agree with him. But Jesus feels it.

I love Malchus. He was a mere slave of the High Priest, there in the crowd who came to arrest Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemene. Peter, trying to resist the Temple Guard, drew his sword and sliced off the poor man’s