The other night I was out at dinner with two friends. They had met before but didn’t really know the other. I have journeyed with both, hearing their stories of heartbreak, listening as past wounds were shared. I knew that their stories shared a similar theme. Both had been violated by someone who should have been trusted, someone who professed a faith in God, someone who was tasked with being a protector. Yet the abject horror had occurred. Lives so young were ineradicably changed. Deep wounds were formed, and those wounds were costly.
Then the other day I was listening to a speaker talk about healing. What would it look like to to not only have a heart healed, but for it to be so restored it was like the hurt never happened? As I listened to her share, how I longed for this to be reality. That Jesus could enter into a life and bring about a complete and utter transformation. Yet this is exactly what He promises. I think of the woman at the well, who set down her water jug and ran into the village that most likely ridiculed her to tell of her experience with this man. Or as I read about the Prodigal son and the Father’s loving embrace of running to the wayward son with nothing but grace, forgiveness, and acceptance. I can only imagine what that embrace felt like after the experience of being far off.
How I long for that sort of restoration in the lives of those around me. I have watched how those deep moves have moved these women to different paths. Paths of destruction, paths of self discovery, paths of healing, paths of hope. But most of all I am confident that there is a path to restoration but it isn’t always easy. I also long for this for myself. To be so free from a broken heart it is like it never happened. To be enveloped in my Heavenly Father’s love that I can boldly move out and love others with a generous love that is without equal.