Isn’t it funny that when you think you have it all figured out, something happens to you that makes you stop and think about how you don’t?
This happened to me a few weeks ago.
But first, some context
I am divorced. Like, as of 42 days ago. Before that, I’d been separated for a little over a year.
Between April 23, 2019 and June 30, 2020, there has been A LOT of growing and healing. I’ve grown closer to God. I’ve let go of people, habits, and things that were only serving to hold me back. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. And I took that to mean that I was completely healed.
Happiness ≠ Healing
I think many of us make the mistake of equating Happiness to Healing. They are not one in the same.
You can feel happiness through illness. You can feel happiness in the middle of a struggle. You can feel happiness and be wounded.
True healing comes from truly, genuinely submitting to God and casting your cares onto Him. But you can’t cast your cares onto Him without submission. And I realized that there was one thing I had not submitted to God.
In the middle of our socially distanced and PPE-wearing Sunday service, I looked up to the altar and the worship team was wearing camo. We were starting a series called “Verano de Nuevas Alturas” (Summer of New Heights), so of course, the temple and the people were all decked out in hiking-themed decor and clothing. I knew about these plans, but I didn’t even consider the camo-wearing. I imagined khakis, hiking boots, lots of plaid, and hats.
Sidenote: DON’T wear camouflage when hiking. That’s just an accident waiting to happen.
Anyway. I look up, and sure enough, there was someone wearing the exact same outfit someone in the military would wear to work. Camo fatigue pants, khaki boots, khaki t-shirt. The outfit my ex-husband wore for all the years I’ve known him. And I just about wanted to die.
Looking back, I think I was having a mild panic attack in the middle of worship. I felt like I was in the middle of a wind tunnel, and I was running out of breath. I couldn’t even look at the person. Their outfit was a trigger to all my anxieties. It took me back to sitting in my home office at 4:00 PM on a weekday, dreading the moment I would hear the garage door open. Because that meant a fight, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, or a barrage of plain meanness was about to come my way.
In that moment, I could feel a whisper in my head saying, “See. You’re happy, but you are not healed.” And that’s when I remembered 1 Peter 5:6-7:
‘So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up in honor. Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.’1 Peter 5:6-7
I don’t have a fast and ready solution to this. Submitting a part of yourself that you keep so hidden or try to flat out ignore is not easy, a one-and-done thing, and it will not happen overnight. Every day I have to choose to submit that hurt and pain to God. And every day, that wound hurts and bleeds a little less. It ceases to be a factor in my decision-making. It becomes a scar.
I can’t wait for the day I can confidently say, “Oh, that old thing? That scar doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
Yours in healing,