The Edges are Sharp

So often, drugs and alcohol are used to numb the pain. There has been so much hurt—both physical and emotional, from the time they were very small—that they have had to find a way to deal with it. And drugs and alcohol are often their coping mechanism. So, when I meet them in the jail, they are sober—perhaps for the first time in a long time. And I see the struggle. The struggle to deal with the things that have been done to them . . . the things they have done to others. Especially pain they may have caused the ones they love the most—their families, their spouses, their children . . . And it is a tremendous struggle. The pain is raw and the tears are real. They are having to face things they have shoved down, covered up, numbed over.

As my husband and I were discussing this one day, he made the simple comment, “The edges are sharp.” How true it is. Like anesthetic that numbs the pain of the surgeon’s scalpel, drugs and alcohol have numbed the pain of all the injustice life has delivered to them, as well as the consequences of their own poor choices. Now, they are undergoing surgery of the soul . . . with no anesthetic. It is so hard to watch.

Yet, it is in this place where God often meets them . . . where they meet God. They find the gift of forgiveness—for others, for themselves. They find peace. A glimmer of hope. Even joy! So, when they leave the jail, they leave the walls that we may see as confining but that some of them have found to be comforting. In that place their needs are met, their responsibilities are removed, they can simply rest and . . . be. They can spend hours in the Word, in prayer, in fellowship.

And so, when they leave that place and face the world once again, the onslaught ensues. They need to find a home, find a job, take care of children, face past relationships. They must get a license, get a car, make supper, do dishes, do laundry, help with homework, pay bills. Often alone. The people they used to do life with would bring triggers and temptations, reminders of who they were. The people who they should do life with often will not receive them, because of who they were. And so, they struggle, alone.

This is where their newfound faith is tested. Will they continue to follow God? Or slide back into the life they just left. This is where the church is tested. Will we extend mercy and grace? Or more judgment and condemnation. This is where we are given the opportunity to give and to receive true unconditional love. This is where we have the chance to look like Christ to a watching world. Will we welcome the prostitute and the tax collector? Or will we “pray loudly from the street corners”—wearing our cross necklaces, carrying our Bibles, doling out our weekly tithe—yet failing to love at all.

I fear that we can have our own addictions—to control and comfort. Our own “drugs” to soften the edges, numb the pain. Will we relinquish our control in servitude to our Lord and Master? Step out of comfort into obedient service? It will be messy. It will be painful. The edges are sharp. But then, sometimes it takes pain to get us to jump into action. The Bible forewarns that with our yes, we must pick up our cross and follow Him. He bore our pain—with nothing to numb it but the love of His Father. Dear God, may you be our comfort. The balm of Gilead, that soothes our souls. May we step willingly into the hard places you may be sending us, knowing that you will go before us. That you will never leave us or forsake us.

”If we confess our sins, he is

faithful and just and will forgive

us our sins and purify us

from all unrighteousness.”

1 John 1:9 NIV

“May the God of hope fill you with all

joy and peace as you trust in him,

so that you may overflow with hope by

the power of the Holy Spirit.”

Romans 15:13 NIV

“To some who were confident of their

own righteousness and looked down on

everyone else, Jesus told this parable:

“Two men went up to the temple to

pray, one a Pharisee and the other a

tax collector. The Pharisee stood by

himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you

that I am not like other people—

robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even

like this tax collector. I fast twice a

week and give a tenth of all I get.’ But

the tax collector stood at a distance.

He would not even look up to heaven,

but beat his breast and said, ‘God,

have mercy on me, a sinner.’ I tell you

that this man, rather than the other,

went home justified before God. For all

those who exalt themselves will be

humbled, and those who humble

themselves will be exalted.””

Luke 18:9-14 NIV