…so sometimes, God, we just don’t have the words. Sometimes we just have a soul that groans with unnamed sorrows. Wordless, unspeakable sorrows pushing their way to the surface like an ache that can’t be ignored. They wrestle their way around to being named, to being heard, to being part of a story we can tell- but the force of them can just make us gasp for air.
Because sometimes the tender wounds paralyze us. Big feelings are scary and really, God, no one told us it was going to be this hard.
So when a voice whispers that we’re really alone, that no one else feels this way, that we’d best not mention it and we’d better shove it down deep where our pain can stay starved of the grace that could bathe it in relief- well, we forget to remember that’s a lie straight from the pit of hell.
The parts of us that never felt heard still need to be heard. What if somewhere along the way we got the message that our pain didn’t matter? That our soul didn’t need compassion?
Just in case you need to hear it, your pain matters. Whether you felt loved when you needed to matters. And it’s ok to grieve the loss of it.
You know who cares that we feel supported, loved, and heard? Jesus. The One who provides a safe place to tuck in all our unspeakable pain next to His own pierced side. And He sits right at the hand of the Father who makes all things right in the end.