Looking Beyond the Pain

Our Lord sees our pain but also sees past our pain to who we really are. He reveals us to ourselves, opening our eyes to see ourselves clearly and calling us back to our true identity.

She wiped the sweat from her brow before stepping out from the shadows. She looked up and gasped. A man was there, sitting on the stone wall. Why was he there? No one was ever there at this time of day.

She almost didn’t go, but her thirst got the best of her. A man. What would he think of her? Who was he? She cautiously stepped closer as she studied him. A Jew… she sighed heavily. Great, as if who she was wasn’t enough. Now she might be judged for being a Samaritan also.

But his being a Jew, perhaps he didn’t know her. Perhaps her reputation wouldn’t proceed her here at least, in this particular company. She could hide behind the countenance of being a Samaritan woman; as much as she would be looked down on for that, it was far better than the reality.

The man turned to look at her. His look was intense. Oh no, what did he want? She had seen that look before, she thought. Her heart fluttered then went numb, and she continued ahead mechanically, avoiding his stare.

At first, when he spoke, she barely looked up to answer. Then he said something unusual. Living water? What was this? She knew her answer was bordering on defensive, but she couldn’t help it.

Yet there was something different about this man. She felt a comfort, as if she had known him all her life. No! She wouldn’t trust him. She couldn’t. She instinctively cut off her feelings again. And now, the way he acknowledged that she had had five husbands and now lived with someone she was not married to… she was no longer anonymous. He knew everything. How? She protectively clutched her heart tighter.

Then her eyes met his. What was this? It was not condemnation. Neither was it lust nor unholy desire. It was compassion. It was as if he saw past all the wounds and sin that had made her what she had become. He saw… what? What was left? For the first time since she was young, she sensed there was something else. Past the brokenness that was all she knew was… something good. Something pure. Something whole. She felt a burning behind her eyes and life stirring in her heart as she looked again at him.

What was it about this man? Was he a prophet? He spoke so mysteriously. Perhaps something more. She found herself talking about the Messiah.

When he answered, “I who speak to you am he,” her heart soared. The Messiah? The Messiah? Speaking to her? The one who would reveal all things and would save them? The Messiah did not condemn her, she realized with a start. He saw her. He loved her like no one had ever loved her before. Not wishing to take from her but to give.

Hope rushed in. She had a feeling like she was seeing herself for the first time. Like she was being filled with life, breathed into. As if he was saving her, not from all that had ever happened to her but from herself. Suddenly the nasty looks and hateful words didn’t matter anymore. Suddenly she no longer despised herself and what she had become. For what she had become had been brought into the light and washed clean with mercy and compassion. Suddenly her shame was gone and replaced by the love of the Savior.

She ran back to town, no longer hiding or sticking to the shadows. No longer despising herself. “Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did! A man who knows everything about me and yet loves me! Could he be the Christ?”

Wounds and sins tell one story about us. They speak of weakness and shortcomings and of the shortcomings of others. They speak of condemnation and shame, lies and half-truths, loneliness and self-protection.

Wounds and sin have a way of distorting our identity. We are made in the image and likeness of God, made for love by He who is love, but pain keeps us from seeing and living that.

When who we are is distorted and when lies are spoken into us enough times, we start to believe it. We begin to live it and perpetuate it.

I have been living this life. Lies have spoken louder than God’s truth and echoed in my head until I hear little else. They have been keeping me from living into the light God has put in me. From knowing His love, His strength, and His truth and reflecting it to those around me.

Even the lies that I reject have spoken deeply into my heart and have condemned me until I knew little but shame. Until it colored everything gray.

We have a God who sees us and who reveals us to ourselves. Yes, we are wounded, and, yes, we sin, but we are much more than the sum of the pain we experience or the mistakes we’ve made.

I am learning that what I have hidden away needs to be brought into the light of God’s love and mercy. Our wounds will not heal until they have been touched by the Divine Physician. If we try to stitch them closed while they are infected, they will only continue to fester under the surface and affect healthy tissue and will eventually tear again through the stitches.

Sharing our stories with others who are ready to receive them with compassion is also critical in our working through them. What wounds us in relationship also, most often, needs safe relationship to heal. God can use people to hear our pain and witness the heaviness of our emotions. He can speak truth back into us through them.

We have a God who redeems and restores, who never stops calling us back to Himself. Who never tires of loving us and who sees our pain but also sees past our pain to who we really are. He reveals us to ourselves, opening our eyes to see ourselves clearly and calling us back to our true identity.

Our wounds and sins are real, but they are far from the whole story. We are God’s creation, His handiwork. When we see ourselves through His eyes, we begin to come alive again.

Healing is a process. It takes honesty and humility. Working through the wounds and repenting of our sins takes time and can be very painful. But healing is part of the journey to wholeness and holiness, to becoming who we were created to be and living as His sons and daughters, made in His image and likeness and carrying His life within us.

Reflection based on John 4.

Photo by Pavlo Semeniuk on Unsplash