This is such a fantastic post to follow the previous. God balances me sometimes.
I know we are broken people, in a broken world, with all kinds of scars and baggage following all of us. But there are days when I would just rather forget mine and pretend that I don’t know so much about everybody else’s. I want to pretend that we’re all just so “blessed with the joy of Jesus” and that nobody has to glue a smile over all the memories of where they came from.
It never ceases to amaze me how degraded and…well…human we are. I forget that the people I laugh with have cried, that those I wrap my arms around have been hit by someone else’s, that confidence can be a way to escape the knowledge that they actually hate themselves for their mistakes. The truth is, I know so little about so many people. I know who they are and who they’ve been since I’ve met them (a little of it at least). I know what they tell me. People know of me what I tell them too. I don’t know how God deals with all the pain we feel ourselves and cause Him as well. Everybody has a story. And we’ve all wanted to rip pages out.
I will never look down on you because of your history, because I am far from perfect and put together. I will never not want to know your story, because I’ve met a healer beyond my greatest comprehension and I’d love to introduce him to you. He has rescued me from myself, cried with me, loved me, freed me, and has ever since been restoring my life to me in ways you could never imagine.
Well, actually… maybe you could. We’re just not that different.
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