“Heal me O Lord, and I will be healed; save me, and I shall be saved, for you are my praise.” (Jeremiah 17:14)
When the scars are visible, when the diagnosis is made public, we are more prone to expose our ache to others and to plead relentlessly for healing from the God of the Universe. The hidden hurts and deep wounds we dare not divulge, we unwisely believe lie beyond the Father’s ability to restore. Rather than revealing the extent of our agony to him, we cower behind it, assuming the enormity of the pain disqualifies us from healing. Foolishly, we think our trial beyond the scope of the “man of sorrows…acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3).
Sometimes, we justify our malaise with a full‐blown excuse for self-pity. This horrible situation may be the lot of others, but should never have landed in my lap. My doorway should never open on to this wretched scenario, no matter what.
Self-pity is primarily pride wearing a droopy disguise. This sense of injustice is a cry from one who shakes his fist at God and declares, “You are not the boss of me. You cannot expect me to accept this from your hand. Give it to another. I determine what is right and fair.”
Wouldn’t it make more sense to transfer our losses onto the one who has “borne our grief and carried our sorrows…was wounded for our transgressions…was crushed for our iniquities?” (Isaiah 53:4-‐5) Aren’t the shoulders that carried the cross up Calvary’s hill perfectly suited to manage our load as well?
The size of the problem is irrelevant to him. Hand it over - all of it. Our Savior and Healer will take it from there.