Dear Wounded Warrior,
You are strong.
Stronger than you think you really are.
You’re winning even when you think you’re losing, and sometimes, your healing might come through your tears, and your blessings might drip like the raindrops.
Doesn’t He who bring you to the point of birth not bring forth the new and great within you?
So don’t for a second ever doubt that God’s silent behind your heartbreaks, or that He’s quiet in all your sufferings.
What if these trials that parch you are meant to bring the showers of blessings that purify you, and that those drips would satisfy you.
Hear this, Mighty Ones: You’re larger than the mountains that loom before you, stronger than the strongest giant that taunt you.
Stand right still, and set your sight on Him, let your hope up and let your praise flow, that’s how you change your disappointment into divine realignment.
Know this: Your pain is shaping your strength, so don’t discard the hard years, because there’s a healing tree that can make you whole, right there in your dry desert years, in what you think are your deserted paths.
Your pain’s forming your own triumphant song. Chant it.
Flaunt your new broken strength, your own success-servant-story — because hope in Christ never shames, and at the end of your story, you can sing it triumphant: “…because God’s meant it for good all these whiles.”
Yeah, you can face the darkness around you, break the chains that surround you, and let His Word really transform you, because what’s happening around you isn’t as important as what’s happening within you.
The series of what may seem like random, independent incidences — they are for the stringing of a thousand broken hearts, for the deliverance of the nations, so you must guard what you allow to break within you.
I know how the memory seems to sting you at times, and how you’d ooze out in pain every time it brushes against you, but remember: your bruises aren’t meant to be your badges, and really, He’s breaking you so He can bless you, and when you’re broken into pieces, you’re really held in the safest of all places that becomes your eternal Peace.
They’re to build you, so that the lowest point of your valley can make you see all the pinnacles of every mountain you’re meant to scale, every mountain you’re meant to overcome.
“He will fling open a wide door of hope and give you back the years the locusts have devoured.” (Joel 2:25)
What if every betrayal’s meant to remind you that when you feel most alone, you can be right alone with God, and that’s most okay.
He is the One closest, the One you need the most. Rest in that.
And when the road you travel demands you travel alone, You can find Him a companion that never ever leaves.
Brave one, remember this: suffering’s unavoidable, trials — they come with life, but His love is too deep to give us any lesser of things.
So feel along those pain, and never fear those dark, endless nights, because what you pray forth in the dark will penetrate you into the light.
Remember that you’d never know the whole story and that’s why we should never grow resentful within any part of the story. We can trust in the Story Maker.
You can submit to His sovereignty, and cease your struggles to get even, because when He’s on your case as your Judge, no man’s too big to bring you down, no problem’s too powerful to have their hold over you.
We who’d know only a fraction of the story, can be content with that fragment, and not to be confused by the segment on the other side of Eternity we’d never know now.
So Strong One, bring part of your story, and let your suffering join us in His healing, because who can know the soul of another until we see the rawest pain of each other, which will turn into our greatest testimony together.
Our storms can help the world see our Saviour.
Sufferings can help us sparkle with kindness, sit with the littlest, sing with the oldest – and it’s the simplest things in life that produce the realest joy of life.
So darn the pain, shun the shame, and praise God for the suffering, because He will meet us in the storm and shape His glory through our songs, that become our strengths.