For years I depended on my wounding to keep me connected to Christ because my holes were what held me close to Him. But what happens when the cracks are no longer there to keep me connected to Him?

For years, I walked around with a heavy, velvet, gray cloak draped over my shoulders; a red, diamond shaped hole gaped in my chest; my eyes’ pupils, big, round and begging for validation and attention.

I was haunted by this fear that my rejection mindset was palpable, that people could sense it, see it, pick up on it like a raccoon in a bloodhound’s wake and they’d be, not drawn to it, but disgusted by it—for who could love or want to be around a broken woman?

I reminded myself of the proverb that says:

The leech has two daughters,

“Give,” “Give.”

There are three things that will

Not be satisfied,

Four that will not say,

“Enough”:

Sheol, and the barren

Womb,

Earth that is never satisfied with

Water,

And fire that never says,

“Enough.”

A fifth needy, grabby, gaping thing could be added to this proverbial list: me.

Living a rejected life caused me to cling to “stronger” women who had it more together than I did and to boyfriends who fed my validation deprivation. I would suck them dry and still feel empty.

When mentoring relationships ended and dalliances met their demise, there I, famished, would remain—heaving, bleeding and yet needing more.

Almost three years ago, after a broken engagement and a frayed connection with my church, I was crawled up, enclosed like a fetus within myself in the comforting corner of my soft-green couch. With tears, shakes, and sobs Jesus met me there.

He started to whisper sweet everythings to me.

He breathed life into my aching places.

He placed His presence beside my far-reaching, fathomless loneliness.

He wanted to walk with me through the wilderness and I said yes though I was inconsistent.

He pursued and nudged me within my spirit whenever I began to veer from the path. When I hit another rock bottom, He was still beside me waiting to carry me through the wadi. I needed deeper healing, deeper knowledge of who He was and He kept beckoning me into these deep, barren places with Him at the helm—places we had skimmed over before but that He desired to excavate more completely. When I finally let Him, what I found at the bedrock was this: I was fully seen, uncovered, laid bare and loved by Him.

Him.

The one who exists in unapproachable light.

The wounded and reigning King.

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For years I depended on my wounding to keep me connected to Christ because my holes were what held me close to Him. But what happens when the cracks are crusted over with the glorious glue of His goodness?

What would keep me held to Him after He healed me?

When I think of this, I think of the lepers in Luke 17 that Jesus healed; all of them left thankless, except one. This softly convicts me because sometimes the desire for deep healing can turn into an idol. We find ourselves more enthralled by the possibility of healing than we are captivated by the heavenly hands of the Healer.

It took twelve years of walking with Christ for me to experience the depth of healing that I have with Him today.

I used to wonder why.

I remember this past New Year’s Eve, sitting at service as our overseer said, “some of you see the marriage, the babies, the blessings others have received and you’re wondering when will it be me?”

As I drove home afterwards, I parked the car on my dark West Philly block and sobbed out those exact syllables that he’d perfectly given me words for: Lord, when will it be me? When will it be my turn? When will the velvet cloak drop, the diamond hole cease gaping? When will my eyes no longer be desperately filled to the brim with tears of longing?

On the other side of healing, eight months after that cry, I am grateful for the length of time it took.

One recent morning, this past June, I woke up and it felt like my DNA was different. I journaled: This morning when I woke, I felt different. I felt completely at peace. Not grieving past wounds, not worrying about something—just regulated. I had the thought of “Lord, what do I come to you for now that I’m not in crisis?”

A part of this Christian walk is healing of deep past wounding and trauma. The process of this type of healing is similar to having a cavity. Jesus drills out the decay, suctions it up, chisels the tooth here and there, then fills it in with a filling. We were so used to living life with a hole and coming to Him for maintenance. But what happens now that we have a new tooth?

You may be asking yourself the same question I did.

Jesus, what do I come to you for now that I’m not in crisis? Now that the cavity is gone. On this side of healing, Jesus is still showing me the answer to this. But I’m convinced that He desires more than to just heal us. He desires more than our wounded holes to hold us to Him. Any words that I can come up with are still being formulated within me, but scripture is more than sufficient unto this clarity and it is from that springboard that I endeavor to share encouragement.

His Abundant Life Holds Us

“I came that they may have life and might have it abundantly.” John 10:10 NASB

In my wounding, I was not living life abundantly. I was living life by looking backwards at the trail of blood trickling from my injuries. After healing, I can now look ahead of me, towards the golden footsteps of Jesus making a path before me. A path unique to my design and destiny—in and through Him. This path is hemmed in by rosebeds and patches of lilies springing forth. It is teeming with the lithe flight patterns of butterflies and bluebirds. Not that all will be utopian, but all will be defined by His definition of abundance. So now, I come to Him every day for this abundant life.

His Truth Holds Us

“And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may be with you forever; that is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it does not behold Him or know Him, but you know Him because He abides with you, and will be in you. I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. After a little while, the world will behold Me no more; but you will behold Me; because I live, you shall live also. In that day you shall know that I am in My Father, and you in Me, and I in you.” John 14:16-20 NASB

In my wounding, I was harassed by the haunted air of lies. In Christ, in my healing, I am learning to perceive the voice of Truth. Instead of a spirit of rejection making a house inside of me, Holy Spirit now lives in me permanently. He gives me spiritual eyes to behold Him and strength to keep Him. Because Jesus lives, I have life and abiding life in Him, in the Father, and them in me. While wounded, holding onto this truth consistently was nearly impossible because every time I was triggered, it would leak out. Post healing, through Christ’s strength, I am able to keep this truth inside of me. So now, I come to Him daily for Truth.

His Power, Life, and Godliness Holds Us

His divine power has granted to us everything pertaining to life and godliness through the knowledge of Him who called us by His own glory and excellence. 1 Peter 1:3 NASB

In my wounding, I knew only my pain. Now, I know Him who has personally called and invited me into experiencing His glory and excellence. It is through His glory, excellence, and divine power that I am empowered to life AND godliness. (For it is possible to have a good earthly life but not have a godly one.) So now, I come to Him for power, life, and godliness.

His Endurance, Example, and Image Holds Us

Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Hebrews 12:1-2 NASB

That word encumbrance is synonymous with protuberance, like a tumor, a bulge, or swelling. Is that not what wounding is? Is that not an apt description of our sores? After Christ heals, He calls us to lay aside those sores and run, with endurance, our personalized race of faith with our eyes—not on our pasts and not even on the healed scars—but with our eyes on Him who did it all. We now run for and towards joy as He did. His reward was kingship alongside His father and us, His beloved bride. Post-healing, we get to run the race towards our co-reigning with Him in Holy Matrimony. So now, I come to Him for endurance, example, and a victorious image to behold.

May you glean, as I am learning to do, the truth of your destiny in Christ from these sacred truths.

Loving and Rooting For You,

Kourtney Naomi Recommends:

Scripture Recommendations:

• John 10:10
• John 14:16-20
• 1 Peter 1:3
• Hebrews 12:1-2

For further meditation and an opportunity to journal, you can download my Anti-Performance Journaling Pages (Volume 2) that are the companion to this article by clicking the link below:

Anti-Performance Pages (Volume 2)

Song Recommendation:

“Whole Heart” by Hillsong United