A Foreshadowing

I can’t think about what happened these past three years. When I find my mind moving in that direction, I shut it down. Focus intently upon something else. Something mundane. Anything but what happened.
If I think, then I’ll cry. If I cry, the tears won’t stop. And what good would that be? What good is a broken mess?

Wait, I already am a broken mess.

But in this brokenness I find Christ’s light. Cracked, bruised, broken: and yet His light continues to shine from every crack and crevice and scrape and hurt. This light is not mine; I’m merely the vessel by which His light shines out.

Back to my original thought. The point of all this. I’ve been running from my past for too long now. I greet a ghost every morning; shadows follow my footsteps. I catch glimpses here and there from the corner of my eye of what used to be, what could be, what I am, and who I desire to be.

The stealthy chase is ending. I’ve been caught.

I must face these problems with an unwavering resolve. My feet are firmly planted, my heart is racing, my arms are outstretched, and my eyes look Heavenward. I would collapse at any moment if Christ was not behind me steadying my trembling body.

You can’t run from past hurts forever. They will find you at your weakest, and you will be broken.
But that’s the beauty of it. In our brokenness we find Christ.