I saw the warrior in Cheryl the first time I met her.
To be honest, she intimidated me. But I heard God clearly tell me to be friends, so I stepped out of my comfort zone and took timid steps toward connection.
She did too. She let me see past her armor to her wounds, and I knew it was safe to show her mine.
Cheryl is beautiful in her honesty and brokenness. Brave and bold in her witness of the Lord’s healing in the midst of pain. She cries with us, the wounded. She shares the Healer and her healing. She takes up her sword and battles for all of us–for whole and complete healing.
It’s a beautiful thing.
I AM WOUNDED
The father of lies would have me interpret my wounds as evidence of damaged goods, beyond repair, hopeless, destroyed beauty, marred beyond recognition. And I will confess that I wrestle with believing these lies.
In any given week you will find me with days of believing the lies, of mourning the conquest they seem to have won. But you will also find me with days of joy and triumph, sometimes tears of a human frame overwhelmed by the greatness of God’s love.
This last year has been a journey through the highest highs and lowest lows. I have seen God’s favor and blessing in my life as I write and tell of His story being worked out in me. But I have also gone through a season of flashbacks to childhood abuse–nightmares experienced awake and asleep.
These are my darkest days.
I have never, in my life, experienced my soul juxtapositioned between words of life and memories of death.
So to say I am wounded is spot on. The deepest part of my soul has been chewed on by a vicious lion who sought me out to steal, kill and destroy. Yes, damage has been done.
But the sweetness of God, the beauty of the I AM, the grace given through the cross of Christ is healing me.
His words are ebbing their way into my darkest memories, the dirtiest of wounds, and He is purging out the sickness of lies with the crimson tide of His love.
But to taste His sweetness, see His beauty, and know the power of the Cross means I must journey into my darkness. I must face the deepest of pains; feel today what I couldn’t feel as a child. I must go where I fear. I must see what has set in motion coping mechanisms turned to expressions of sin.
And I am finding that this journey is hard, long and difficult… and I could never make it by myself. I can’t tell you the perfection of gifts that God has placed before, behind, above and below me.
They all have names. Yes, they are people, God’s people… whom God called to intercede for me, to listen, to war for my protection, to believe in the victory of the cross.
They see me…the real me…the redeemed me…the me that God designed before sin distorted his image. They tenaciously hang on to that vision and they speak it back to me, especially when I can’t see it. They hold high the banner of the cross, so when I fall, I look up and see hope.
I hope YOU will find a banner of Hope, lifted high for you to see no matter where you are in your wounded-ness and in your healing.
I am Wounded.
I am being Healed.
I am learning to be a Warrior.
Cheryl is a speaker and writer, sharing vision and purpose for igniting the power of women who exchange curses for blessings, insecurities for confidence, and self-reliance for giving and receiving. Cheryl encourages every heart to wrestle with the Lord, not letting go until they find His blessing. Her healed wounds make her a qualified member of this glorious race we call WOMEN! Connect with Cheryl at: WoundedHealerWarrior.com
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