Anyone who’s watched Raiders of the Lost Ark knows all too well the beating Indiana Jones takes right up to the scene where he finally gets a chance to stop and catch a breath. It’s only then that he or the audience gives much thought to his injuries. Marion tries to take advantage of the moment to kiss it and make it better, but each touch is met with varying cringes. Finally, she says, “Damn it, Indy, where doesn’t it hurt?!”
Isn’t that sometimes the easier question?
But the question I’ve really been pondering has been the one Lysa TerKeurst brought up: What is my deepest wound?
Honestly, I thought it would be a bigger challenge and require a lot more navel gazing than it did!
But I think my deepest wound is the fear of being unlovable and alone.
You know, the kind of alone where you’re pretty sure no one cares about you. Because you’re broken. Because you’re hideous. Because you’re worthless.
And you know you’re broken because the thoughts you think are wrong and weird, and you can’t even pass a remedial algebra class in your third year of college. You know you’re hideous because no one ever asks you out but if they did, you’d wonder what was wrong with them. You know you’re worthless because for years you felt hatred actually emanate from your own mother.
Who could ever love you? And don’t say “God” because if the people around you – people you can see, hear and touch – don’t seem to want to see you or hear you, much less touch you no matter what you do, then how are you supposed to believe that a God you can’t see, hear or touch loves you no matter what…just “because”!
That is what you’re supposed to believe when no one wants you?
That is what you’re expected to hold onto when you’re completely and painfully alone?
That sense of being completely and forever unlovable is what I think my deepest wound is. In fact, I’m willing to suggest that it’s the deepest wound most of us have.
Because it’s the one wound that consistently threatens to keep us from the only one who can fill the gaping wound, the only one who can stop the bleeding – the very one who created us. Because that is the wound that God’s greatest enemy will always rub, bump or flat-out jab to keep us from ever being fully confident of God’s love for us.
During the past six years, I’ve been getting to know the God I trusted to give me my Get out of Hell Free card when I was 12 years old in a Southern Baptist church. It was a pretty typical Southern Baptist salvation. As the congregation sang “I Surrender All”, I made my way down the aisle to the front of the church, and accepted Christ as my savior. But it’s taking a long time for me to actually surrender all!
That was it, though. I tried to be a good girl like a Christian was supposed, but my life was painful! I spent the next 20 years just trying to survive, wondering where God was. If God loved me so much, why didn’t anyone else? If he loved me, then why did I feel so unlovable?
That, I think, has been my deepest wound.
What changed? How did I come to actually believe that I was not unlovable? Twenty-two years ago, my Father gave me a husband who refused to give up on me. One day, shortly after we were married, I was considering that I wasn’t sure I loved John. I was grateful to him – which is another post entirely – but I didn’t think I loved him. I also had a four year-old daughter who was especially challenging. I wasn’t sure I loved her either. So I sat on the front step of our apartment and told God, “I don’t think I know how to love.” He gently told me, “That’s why I gave you John.”
John kept showing me love and patience again and again, no matter what I did or said. I saw how it looked. Eventually, I felt it, and I could recognize it when I saw it. I recognized it when it came from my Father.
Even before I began this blog, I was quite aware of the fact that I was not equipped to feel loved – by anyone. I felt unlovable and unloved not simply as a woman, but as a Christian, too. And that seemed so wrong to me. Something told me I couldn’t be the only Christian who was so convinced that they were unlovable, that they were missing out on the most complete love of all.
It’s sad enough that anyone would feel unlovable. It’s so much more unfortunate that many of those people are born-again Christians. And I want more than anything for us to be set free from the lies we’ve been told about ourselves so we can live a life so fiercely victorious that satan is terrified every single day of what we will do with that freedom!
But first, we have to heal.