I have always been one who feels and cares deeply; words spoken and actions expressed can have a deep impact on me–whether for myself or for others.
I used to internalize every word spoken over me and every action expressed towards me. I embraced every act of love, and was wounded by every sting, slap, and jab of both the careless words and those meant to cut deep. Abba has taught me to receive the love and give the rest to him; only pausing to learn from the hurt but not to hold onto it. Because of this, I try to use words with care, and am sensitive to the hearts of others when I hear unkind words flung at people. I see their pain, and feel it deeply; my heart goes out to them.
Growing up, I had few friends–partly, I believe–because I was the compassionate child who reached out to those labeled “outcasts.” I chose them and they chose me. It was a lonely road which marked me as an outcast among my peers, and often left me abandoned by the only “friends” I knew; for whom I had sacrificed much and had stuck beside out of a sense of loyalty and compassion.
I know what betrayal tastes like. I know what it was like to be utterly abandoned and mocked by the majority of my peers. Because of this, and in spite of it, I have compassion for the hurting ones who silently walk the fringes and feel forsaken.
I know what it was like to feel as though no one was listening; as though my heart and voice did not matter. I see the timid ones longing to be seen and heard; yet, afraid they are not worthy. I see them and want them to know that they are worthy; that they matter, that they are seen; that they have a voice and a story worth telling.
I see the silent ones who shrink back in fear, hoping to stay invisible, and, somehow, protected from further ridicule. I see the timid ones who want to be seen and loved and share the beauty of their lives, but are afraid to risk being hurt or silenced once more. I see the ones longing for a friend; yearning to know that they are loved and that their lives matter. I see the ones the world dismisses as shy, quiet, plain, boring?, different; I see the pain in their eyes as they shuffle by.
I see them, because I was that girl. Their pain was mine. I’m familiar with the prisons of fear that used to keep me silent and feeling as though I was alone. I’m familiar with the language of pain, and the orphan heart; the tears which drenched my pillow and the countless prayers to a G-d I was desperate to know, and, yet, wondered if He loved or saw me. My heart is moved with compassion for these dear ones.
I care for people out of the ashes of my pain, because people cared enough to reach out to me in the depths of my despair. I care because these beautiful ones saw me and introduced me to a Father who loves perfectly and redeems the broken. It is out of this place of knowing I am loved and no longer an orphan–of knowing I was never utterly abandoned or all-together forsaken; it is out of this place of redemption and beauty, that the seeds of compassion and love have taken deep root in my heart.
I believe G-d placed this attribute of compassion in me from birth, but before encountering LOVE it was weak and poured out of my limited strength. Now, it is by His strength, and from the overflow of His love for and in me. To G-d be the glory!
“Catch me up in Your story. All my life for Your glory!”
**NOTE: This is a semi-rough draft of something I wrote for a small group assignment in March. G-d has done miraculous wonders in my heart and life since then, but these words still ring true, and I felt like someone may need to hear them. I pray that G-d would meet you in the place of brokenness and encounter you with His vast, transforming love. And, I pray that this will be your reality: “
“In the midst of my tears, I know I’m seen. In the midst of my pain, I know I’m held. In the midst of my questions, I know G-d is working all things together for my good. The ache of a lovesick heart longing for Him triumphs the ache of loneliness, for I am never truly alone. I am loved, and Love has won me.”
Blessings!
The Birthing Room 