This Christmas season I have been pondering an aspect of the power of Jesus Christ which I don't know quite how to name, but I want to write it down while it's on my mind. I noticed it in these lines from "Joy to the World":
This could mean just generally "the good done by Jesus Christ will be bigger than all the bad things on the earth," but this year I heard it much more precisely, as meaning "the blessings of Jesus Christ will flow to heal every dark and hidden thing that was previously a curse to us."
Or said another way, "When Jesus comes again, every single wilderness of sadness or despair or pain or unfairness, every single trial and seeming-curse in our lives will be flooded with blessings."
Or maybe "To the exact extent that bad things affected us, to that identical extent the blessings of Jesus Christ will come."
The picture I'm seeing as I imagine this comes from Ezekiel, chapter 47 where he is talking about the temple and the healing waters that will flow from it after Jesus Christ comes again:
Afterward he brought me again unto the door of the house; and, behold, waters issued out from under the threshold of the house eastward: for the forefront of the house stood toward the east, and the waters came down from under from the right side of the house, at the south side of the altar.
Then brought he me out of the way of the gate northward, and led me about the way without unto the utter gate by the way that looketh eastward; and, behold, there ran out waters on the right side.
And when the man that had the line in his hand went forth eastward, he measured a thousand cubits, and he brought me through the waters; the waters were to the ankles.
Again he measured a thousand, and brought me through the waters; the waters were to the knees. Again he measured a thousand, and brought me through; the waters were to the loins.
Afterward he measured a thousand; and it was a river that I could not pass over: for the waters were risen, waters to swim in, a river that could not be passed over.
Everywhere the waters flow, the earth and the land and the waters are healed:
Then said he unto me, These waters issue out toward the east country, and go down into the desert, and go into the sea: which being brought forth into the sea, the waters shall be healed.
And it shall come to pass, that every thing that liveth, which moveth, whithersoever the rivers shall come, shall live: and there shall be a very great multitude of fish, because these waters shall come thither: for they shall be healed; and every thing shall live whither the river cometh.
To me, this doesn't seem the same as Job losing his children and then later, he has new children and it heals some of his sorrow. This is every dead thing being healed—the actual thing that was barren or thirsty or afflicted—this very thing coming back to life as it is bathed in the waters of life. And to me, that means that each specific pain, each figurative hole left in my heart by sin or hurt or misunderstanding, will be specifically and individually healed. Not just "made up for by a different good thing later"—but healed and made, in itself, whole.
Maybe there isn't that much difference between "bad made up for by good later" and "bad turned to good," I don't know. To me it seems significant. I'll try to describe why with an example I can't actually give much detail on, so forgive me, but it's this:
When I was pregnant with Clementine, one of my children said some things that hurt me deeply. This child did not intend or realize the extent of the hurt caused, and indeed apologized soon after, and the whole incident only spanned a few days and I forgave and we all moved on. But the "scar" (for lack of a better word) from the hurt was still there and I could not imagine it ever leaving. Every time I thought about it, it hurt again. It became fainter, but it was like an old wound aching and it was deep and real. I couldn't ever imagine looking back and laughing over this thing, or even dismissing it with "oh, kids are so self-centered" or whatever—it was just a pain in my soul that couldn't go away.
It was actually easy to imagine this thing (and I emphasize it was objectively a small thing, but not small to me) being "swallowed up" by all the other good things in my life. It wasn't something I thought about a lot or was bitter about. It was easily and rapidly balanced out by the many good interactions I had with this child, not to mention all the other blessings in my life. As far as "fairness," I had been "repaid" for this bitter wound a thousandfold. But the actual scar from the actual wound did not disappear no matter how much the rest of me was happy, healthy, and blessed—nor did I think it ever would—and it was fine! It didn't affect my life at all and when I did think of it, I just thought of it as a past sadness that was now part of me.
But recently, to my great astonishment, I have felt certain interactions, words, and experiences go down into that wound and start to heal it! It's as if a specific balm for that specific pain was suddenly devised, something that can fit into the hole left by it and actually start to make that scarred skin re-grow! I didn't ask for this or know it could happen. I could not have orchestrated it on my own. But somehow, it's as if I've been given the perfect parallels to the pain I felt—experiences of joy in those very distinct, specific places that were hurt—to the point that though I still can't laugh about that long-past day, I can imagine a day where the hurt really is gone—healed—the skin made new, with no scar.
It's not that scars are all bad. Like I wrote about last week, there are many pains and trials I don't
want to forget, or
holes I don't want filled, because they contribute to the fullness I am seeking. But this feels like something different—like a promise that we will not just be "compensated" for the pains of this life, but truly blessed through them. Made whole amidst them. And while that seems so paradoxical, somehow through Jesus Christ, it becomes reality.
It's just made me think that if I can begin to feel this with such a small and unimportant and relatively insignificant wound—what of those even-more-painful wounds, losses, and unfairnesses so many people have experienced? Of course Jesus Christ wouldn't forget them! He can send his healing waters into every single dry spot, every dark corner, and when He does, the very thorns that lurked there, the actual dead plants that withered there, will be transformed by those waters. Not sorrows simply balanced out by joy—but each distinct sorrow healed by its perfectly reciprocal and distinct joy.
I am so grateful for the blessings that flow from Jesus Christ—into the dry wilderness, into the thorny wastes, over the parched earth of sadness and regret and unfairness. I marvel at the detailed, specific, perfectly suited ways that He has healed me, and is healing me, and will heal me. How can I help but rejoice at that news?
