What happens when an incident brings to light the abuses that so many have suffered?
A scab is picked yet
again, a wound is revisited, and one would think the pain should have subsided,
the shame should have been victorious through countless brave testimonies throughout
the years. Testimonies by people that were never in the rooms where you were
victimized, they had a room and a trauma of their own to endure. Forgiveness is plenteous, but in the quiet
hours, and the still hours, the hours when we sink to our knees and ask the
Lord to take hold of our thoughts, we are left to champion a battle that should
have never been fought. The scab is
revisited, it bleeds and aches and longs for healing. We profess…Lord I believe I am healed, help
my unbelief! We wonder if we are double
minded in our profession of faith, we wonder if we speak our truth, do we
abandon the notion that healing is indeed our bread? Do we succumb to a string
of new reports that belie our healing? Why do we chain ourselves to the torment? We
are revisiting a scab, and it fetters as it festers, others might see and we
are consumed with shame, we are exposed. Lord help me to be as brave as I
appear to be, for in the quiet hours courage is elusive, and the quiet is a
bandit. My peace is subjugated and the wounds are reopened, I have revisited
the scab. My dreams are dragooned by past injustices, yet I refuse to be a
prisoner. We have wounds and scars that are invisible to the naked eye. We
mustn't pick that scab. Making a commitment to taking hold of every thought is
the beginning of this battle, this race, this promise to overcome. I remind
myself…I command my thoughts, my words are my sword in this armor…I speak to
copyright 2021 Michelle Carter
The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not
He makes me to lie down in green pastures: he leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul: he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies: You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
Lord I believe…Help my unbelief!
As the deer pants for the water brooks, so pants
my soul for You, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When
shall I come and appear before God? My tears have been my food day and
night, while they continually say to me, “Where is your God?”
Deep calls unto deep at the noise of Your waterfalls; All Your waves and billows have gone over me. The Lord will command His lovingkindness in the daytime, and in the night His song shall be with me—A prayer to the God of my life. I will say to God my Rock, “Why have You forgotten me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?” As with a breaking of my bones, my enemies reproach me, while they say to me all day long, "where is your God?” Why are you cast down, O my soul? And why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; For I shall yet praise Him, The help of my countenance and my God.
I am clothed with the armor of God, my words are my sword in this armor!
I remind myself…
I will not pick this scab!