A Lasting Hope

"I finally started cutting for real. It bled. It hurt. But it's spring, and I'm going to stop. I don't want people to see the cuts on my arm and feel bad. So what will I do to stop the pain now? Isn't it obvious? I cut on my hip instead. And I'm only eleven. Is there no way out?" ~Six Billion Secrets

There are very few things more sad than this. More heart-breaking. But what may be even more sad than this "secret" is the sort of response this young lady received. Several people declaring that she needed to "go out and get a freakin' life." "You're flippin' eleven, live your life." And so on. Those who actually seemed to care repeated the same sentiment over and over: Cutting is not the answer.

But none of them seemed to know what the answer actually is.

This world is obsessed with quick fixes. People offered this girl options for what she could do instead of cutting: Squeeze an ice cube, write in a journal, hit a pillow. All excellent distractions that keep you from self-harm. I've done many of those things myself. But these are all immediate distractions, not a solution to the deeper problem that has to be eating away at this girl's heart. Even cutting is something of a "quick fix"; a symptom of a much more deep-seeded problem.

And no one had any idea how to address that. And that's what breaks my heart.

Five years ago, Jesus saw poor, pitiful little me. Huddled in a freezing cold study. Ready to go beyond just scratching myself, ready to gather the courage to actually make myself bleed. But before I could put anything to my arm, He gently whispered to my heart, I already took that cut. And I never cut, or even came close, again.

Two thousand years ago, Jesus saw that darling eleven-year-old girl. He saw her breaking heart. He saw the pain she couldn't keep inside any longer. He saw what she did to try and make it go away. And He gave up His life so that she could keep hers. But who is ever going to actually tell her what He did for her? Who is going to intercede on her behalf? Who is going to plead that someone will come into her life and let her know she is worthy of love? Who is going to be the hands and feet of Christ to this child?

I was blessed to grow up in a Christian home. I was blessed to have parents that gave me a solid foundation. I knew Bible verses. I knew who Jesus was. I knew the Gospel story. So that, in my darkest hour, when I heard Jesus' voice, I knew exactly who it was. But that is not a luxury that many have these days. If people know the Gospel, they tend to know the watered-down, fictional version.

But the Gospel has power. Jesus Christ has power. This world needs to know that when the blow was about to fall; when the blade was about to be lowered; when the whip was about to strike; Jesus stood in their place. His body took the hit. His arm took the cut. His back took the lashes that were rightfully ours. He removed the chains from our wrists and put them on His own, so that we could walk out of our prison cell and live in freedom. And not only did He take our chains -- He shattered them.

And even in America, when there's a church just about every five minutes down every given street, I never cease to be amazed how few people actually know this. When people ask, "Is there no way out?" why are Christ's children not stepping up and crying, "Yes! There is a way out! There is a God who loves you no matter what you do, who gave up His very life because He adores you so much. He doesn't want you to be perfect. He wants all your broken pieces. He wants your heartbreak, your depression, your anger, your sadness. He wants your ashes so that He can make them something beautiful. Please, just give them to Him!"

Instead, we write people off as lost causes.

Our God is alive. Our God is working. Our God stood in the gap, our God took the blow, our God aches for people to just come sit at His feet and be loved by Him. He doesn't want people to try harder. He doesn't want the prodigal to work for Him; He wants the prodigal to be wrapped up in His arms until everything that happened in the past is washed away.

Too often, I treat people as though they need to do more. As though they aren't trying hard enough to obey God. As though until they have exactly the same relationship with God that I have, they're not good enough.

But then I remember where I was five years ago. And I realize that some of these people have not learned to hear the voice of God. That they may never have even heard His Name. That they need someone, not to judge them, but to be Jesus' hands and feet. They need someone to tell them, He already took that cut.

They don't need to do more. They just need to be loved.

Let the Living God work and love through you. The world is starving for hope, and hope that lasts beyond a quick fix can only be found in Christ. Hope that saves lives comes from God. Hope that changes lives comes from the One who was cut, so that we don't have to be.

Hope comes from the Risen Christ. And we have the privilege of telling this world about Him.

Behind His Back

For my tenth birthday, my mom redecorated my room. She bought me a beautiful canopy, a new lamp, and an adorable fairy bedspread and sheets. Unfortunately, when she went to put on the new sheets and comforter, they didn't fit. The label that stated "Full/Queen" only fit a full-sized bed. So she returned my fairy bed fixings and went on a hunt for more.

She spent hours looking for the perfect bedspread and sheets. She never found little girl ones that would fit. She told me that she cried at the cashier, saying all she wanted to do was make my birthday special.

Well, eventually my mommy and I went out shopping together for my bed. We picked out a quilt that was far from little-girl, like she and I had both wanted. But it's still on my bed today. I love that quilt.

But every once in a while, I would feel horrible. I would think, "If it hadn't been for me, my mommy wouldn't have cried that day." I felt awful that she had gone to so much trouble for me. I would trace my finger over the embroidered flowers on my quilt and match tear-for-tear the tears my sweet mommy had cried.

About two months ago, I reminded her of her hunt for my perfect bedspread and confessed that I felt dreadful about it. She blinked. "What in the world are you talking about?"

I stared at her. "You mean you don't remember that?"

"I remember that we got you that new quilt, but I haven't thought about that in years. You mean you've been feeling bad about that all this time?"

Well.

How often do we do that with God? We sit around feeling horrible about a sin that we know He's already forgiven, and we feel so bad that we made Him sad. We agonize over our decisions. We drag up things we've already given to God.

I think when we do that, He just blinks. "You mean you've been feeling bad about that all this time? I haven't thought about that in years. Why in the world are you bringing it up now?"

Do we really believe that He's removed our sins from us as far as the east is from the west? I like to claim that I do. But if I really believe that, why do I drudge up the past so often?

Isaiah 38:17 says, "In Your love You kept me from the pit of destruction; You have put all my sins behind Your back." Does God "forget" our sins, as people commonly say? I don't think so. That's crazy to come to an omniscient God and say, "So, do You remember that horrible thing that I did on April 12, 2010?" and expect Him to scratch His head and reply, "April 12? Gosh, I think that day might be erased from My infinite memory... This is perplexing." No. I don't think He forgets in the way that we forget things. But He forgives. And He puts our sins behind His back, never to think about them again.

But we like to run behind His back, pick them up, and stick them in His face again. "See? Isn't that horrible what I did? Oh, You must hate me now..."

"Um, didn't I already deal with this one?"

"Well, yeah, but I thought You might have forgotten something the first time You forgave me. Or maybe You weren't paying attention and didn't really mean that You still love me. I mean, look at this! Obviously You missed this part right here. This is truly unforgivable. This part is too big for even You to forgive. I mean, seriously, there has to be a limit to what Jesus' sacrifice can cover, and if there is, this is it! I'm the unforgivable one! You found me! Oh, woe is me!"

Why in the world do we try to convince God not to forgive us?

Hand it over to God. Leave it there. And trust that He has covered your sins. We yank our sins back from God's hands and feel guilty about them all over again because of a lack of faith in the cleansing blood of Jesus Christ. Think about it: Who are you to think that you're the one special person in the universe whose sins God can't put behind His back?