Wounds Make Terrible Roommates

There are mornings when God doesn’t completely rearrange my theology.

He just quietly exposes where my thinking has been taking up too much space.

This morning was one of those mornings.

I realized how much of my mental real estate has been occupied by things God never intended to live there.

Offense.

Comparison.

Old conversations.

Past disappointments.

People who probably haven’t thought about me in months.

Meanwhile, the very purpose God created me for has been standing outside, politely waiting for room.

It reminded me of something that has been bouncing around in my heart all morning.

A thing affects everything.

Just one thing.

One disappointment.

One betrayal.

One unanswered prayer.

One insecurity.

One offense.

One wound.

We like to believe we can neatly tuck those things into one corner of our lives. That they’ll stay contained. That they’ll only affect one relationship or one season.

They don’t.

They spread.

One thing affects everything.

It changes how we hear people.

It changes how we love people.

It changes how we trust God.

It changes how we view ourselves.

It even changes how we interpret our calling.

Hi, Jazmin.

Because apparently I needed to hear that too.

Judges 6 has been sitting with me all day.

Israel had walked away from God, and for seven years the Midianites oppressed them. But what fascinated me wasn’t simply that Israel was under attack.

It was when they were attacked.

The Midianites didn’t waste their energy showing up every Tuesday just to make everyone’s life miserable.

No.

They waited.

They waited until harvest.

Imagine spending months planting crops.

Preparing the soil.

Watering.

Waiting.

Trusting.

Believing.

Only to have someone sweep in at the exact moment everything was finally ready.

Judges tells us that every time Israel planted, the Midianites would descend “like swarms of locusts.” They would destroy the crops, steal the livestock, and leave absolutely nothing behind.

Not because they wanted Israel dead.

Because they wanted Israel discouraged.

Because if you can convince someone that their work never produces fruit, eventually they’ll stop planting altogether.

Honestly…

The enemy still seems to like that strategy.

He doesn’t always come after my life.

Sometimes he comes after my harvest.

He waits until God has been doing something beautiful beneath the surface.

Healing.

Growth.

Forgiveness.

Freedom.

Then whispers…

“See? None of it mattered.”

Harvest theft.

That’s what it is.

Which brings us to Gideon.

When we first meet him, he’s threshing wheat in a winepress.

That sounds odd because…

It is.

Winepresses weren’t built for wheat.

Threshing wheat happened on hilltops where the wind could separate the grain from the chaff.

Winepresses were dug into the ground.

Hidden.

Enclosed.

The absolute worst place to process wheat…

Unless you were terrified someone would steal it.

Gideon wasn’t confused.

He was surviving.

Fear had become so normal that hiding simply felt wise.

If I’m honest…

I’ve done that spiritually.

Maybe not in a winepress.

But I’ve hidden pieces of myself because disappointment convinced me it was safer than hope.

Then God says something that honestly makes me laugh every time I read it.

“The Lord is with you, mighty warrior.”

Judges 6:12 (NIV)

Excuse me…

Who?

Because from Gideon’s perspective, there wasn’t a mighty warrior in sight.

There was just a guy hiding underground hoping nobody noticed him.

If I were Gideon, I’d probably do what I do every time someone calls me “organized.”

I’d immediately start explaining why they’re mistaken.

“Oh no… you’ve got the wrong person.”

Which is basically Gideon’s response.

“Pardon me, my lord,” Gideon replied, “but if the Lord is with us, why has all this happened to us?”

Judges 6:13 (NIV)

Translation?

“If You’re so good… explain my circumstances.”

I’ve prayed that prayer.

Maybe not with those exact words.

But definitely with that exact heart.

Then Gideon continues.

“Pardon me, my lord, but how can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family.”

Judges 6:15 (NIV)

Translation?

“I’m underqualified.”

“I’m overlooked.”

“I’m from the wrong family.”

“I don’t have what it takes.”

Funny how insecurity always sounds incredibly logical.

Here’s what humbled me though.

Gideon was complaining about the miracle he didn’t have…

while completely overlooking the miracle he was standing in.

God was speaking to him.

God had found him.

God had not abandoned Israel.

The conversation itself was the miracle.

Yet Gideon couldn’t see it because disappointment had become louder than God’s presence.

Oof.

I wish I couldn’t relate.

But I can.

Sometimes I spend so much time asking God for the next miracle that I accidentally minimize the hundreds He’s already performed.

I’ll pray for open doors…

while completely ignoring the fact that years ago I was praying to simply survive.

I’ll ask God for clarity…

while forgetting He already rescued me from confusion.

I’ll ask Him to use me…

while actively being used by Him.

It’s amazing how quickly gratitude leaves the room when comparison walks in.

And isn’t that exactly what offense does too?

It occupies space.

More space than it deserves.

I’ve learned something uncomfortable lately.

Some relationship issues…

are actually purpose issues.

Because if the enemy can keep me mentally replaying what someone said…

what someone didn’t say…

how someone hurt me…

how someone disappointed me…

I’ll spend so much energy managing old pain that I won’t have enough left to pursue present purpose.

That’s expensive.

Jeremiah said,

“They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious. ‘Peace, peace,’ they say, when there is no peace.”

Jeremiah 6:14 (NIV)

That verse wrecked me.

Because I’ve become really good at putting spiritual Band-Aids on wounds that actually needed surgery.

“You’re fine.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“I’ve moved on.”

“I forgave them.”

Meanwhile…

The wound is still quietly influencing every decision I’m making.

A thing affects everything.

God isn’t interested in pretending I’m healed.

He’s interested in actually healing me.

Because unhealed wounds don’t just affect yesterday.

They infect tomorrow.

They distort conversations that haven’t even happened yet.

They make innocent people pay for guilty people.

They make me hear rejection where none exists.

They make me expect abandonment before anyone has left.

They convince me to protect myself instead of becoming myself.

That’s not healing.

That’s infection.

And infection always spreads if it’s ignored.

I also realized something else today.

God calls people into different roles.

Sometimes I’m leading.

Sometimes I’m learning.

Sometimes I’m building.

Sometimes I’m resting.

Sometimes I’m speaking.

Sometimes I’m quietly sitting with a cup of coffee trying to convince myself that one more splash of salted caramel creamer is absolutely what the Holy Spirit had in mind.

Those roles change.

Seasons change.

Responsibilities change.

But God has never once called me to become someone else.

Only another version of who He created me to be.

That was freeing.

Because I’ve spent far too much of my life becoming a spiritual chameleon.

Walk into one room…

Become that personality.

Walk into another…

Become someone different.

Admire someone’s gifting…

Try to sound like them.

Respect someone’s leadership…

Try to lead like them.

Compare enough…

Eventually forget who God actually made me to be.

Purpose doesn’t work that way.

The Creator determines the purpose of His creation.

Not the creation.

Purpose isn’t whatever I’m good at.

Purpose is what God had in mind when He formed me.

Which means everything I can do…

isn’t necessarily everything I’m called to do.

That one humbled me.

Then one last thought gave me an incredible amount of peace.

If Gideon had said no…

God still would’ve delivered Israel.

He would’ve called someone else.

That doesn’t make me feel insignificant.

It actually reminds me that God’s sovereignty has never depended on my perfection.

He invites me into His work.

He doesn’t need me because He’s lacking.

He wants me because He loves me.

There’s a difference.

A really big one.

So today I’m asking God to evict a few things.

Offense can leave.

Comparison can leave.

Old conversations can leave.

Fear can leave.

The need to prove myself can leave.

The pressure to become somebody else can leave too.

Because they’re taking up space that belongs to purpose.

Get off the line of trying to become someone God never asked you to be.

Stay on the line God drew for you before you ever took your first breath.

Because here’s what I’ll be resting in today…

I am not an accident.

God has a vested interest in my well-being.

The Creator doesn’t lose interest in His creation.

He doesn’t accidentally assign the wrong purpose.

He doesn’t forget what He formed.

He sees me more clearly than I see myself.

& if the same God who looked at a man hiding in a winepress and called him “mighty warrior” is looking at me today…

Maybe I can finally stop arguing with Him about who I am…

and simply become who He’s been calling me all along.