How to Heal a Shapeless Heart

It was just a few weeks ago, as my Pastor spoke in church, that I thought about a feature of God that I haven’t really thought about before.

I don’t really know how to jump into this, but I’ll start with asking you a question. Have you ever been so hurt, you either couldn’t speak, or speaking caused more hurt?

Maybe you’ve suffered through an abusive relationship. And you’re the only one of your group of friends who’ve experienced that. Maybe they don’t know how to help or try to justify the abuser’s actions — not to hurt you but because they are trying to understand it.

Or, maybe it’s a a medical diagnoses that you’re tired of explaining. Or, the loss of job, and you’re having a hard time telling your wife you can’t provide. I don’t know what your pain is, but I know my own. We all wish pain wasn’t a part of life, but it is. We have to figure out how to handle it without letting it cripple us.

But harder than the pain, sometimes, is figuring out how to share that pain. How to speak of it without falling a part. Or how to share it without being hurt by someone’s “well-meaning” but very hurtful comments.

Some pain leaves our hearts completely shattered. Kind of like The Shapeless Heart:

The Shapeless Heart

I once had a heart: beautiful, fully shaped,

beating strong and true.

Until I met him…I hadn’t felt more alive.

Til’ my heart felt hurt and grew dim

For I saw a knife thrusted inside… Pulling it out slowly,

Bleeding profusely, angry, mad, hurt, yet I had to forgive … Slowly …

I felt worthless.. Over time my heart grew.

I could feel it heal…

Beginning to feel free.

I started again…

I felt like I could soar, conquer, live fully.

My heart didn’t see it coming…it was sliced and diced.

Vicious words cutting chunks out every chance it got.

Stabbed, betrayed from all sides..

I could feel my very life start to drain away… How could this happen

Why?

I stared at my heart and had no idea where to begin again.

Slowly… over time…

My heart started to heal…

It wasn’t the same though. The shape it once knew was no more. It didn’t beat as strong, but it still beat… Yet, still quite disfigured…

But, it is only heart I have to work with… I hated seeing my heart in this condition.

I could not tell what form it resembled… It was a mess: mushy, draping, struggling for any shape.

Angry at the sight of something once so strong — now so weak.

When I thought my heart couldn’t take one more blow, it then, was torn apart. Ripped in two. Lifeless, left bleeding out on the floor…

You, world, have won… I have no desire to try again. This heart is done… completely without shape… Flat lined… I heard a whisper…

“Beat again”

“I can’t… There’s nothing left….My heart’s been stabbed, broken, punctured, torn in two.”

“Give it to Me.”

“It’s useless… Use someone else. My heart is unrecognizable … Why would you want this?”

“It’s the broken and disfigured hearts that I use… perfectly formed hearts cannot recognize other battered hearts… The ones that have been torn, stabbed, and chipped to pieces are the ones that became a balm that reaches out to other. The tears that come from a broken heart are the tears that comfort the next. It’s the shapeless hearts that bandage wounds. It’s the shapeless hearts that help shape other shapeless hearts. Your shapeless heart is my gift to the world”

But when our hearts are shapeless before they have been reconstructed, that is when they need the feature I realized that God has… gentle hands.

When you’re wounded, you need gentle hands. Any sudden movement will cause shooting pain. Gentle hands can slowly… ever so slowly reshape and construct the heart that once was full. But without those gentle hands, the heart will remain shapeless, bleeding out and unable to function.

I want to learn this lesson because I want to be the gentle hands and moldable heart for someone else. God binds up the broken hearted, but oftentimes He uses the broken-hearted to bind up another broken-hearted. His heart was broken for us; yet, He still bound up our hearts.

I realized after this thought about God’s gentle hands popped in my head that I had witnessed gentle hands in my physical presence. It was the hands of my family and friends, and my Pastor and his wife who have all had heartbreak, but faithfully turn around and help the broken hearts in their community. It’s their broken-hearts that reached out to mine. And for that, I will forever be grateful ❤️!

Eleven Letters

B1D79461-5E6D-471D-8BD9-6C0BDFA12993.png

I stared at the blinking curser. I reread the text message. I put my iPhone down. I had to pray because I couldn’t handle the hurt. I picked up my phone and wrote eleven letters. I never knew eleven letters could be so hard to write.

Before I was able to write those eleven letters, my mind, and emotions went on a roller coaster ride. Why would this person even write me? I thought. They haven’t written, texted, called in over a year and suddenly they feel bad when I lost my Dad? This person obviously still had my number. When I was hung out to dry, where were they? When I sent the goodbye email to them? Where was their response?

I could feel the anger, frustration and hurt rising up. I wanted to put my fist through the wall. But then I remembered something… I quickly looked up the passage of the Bible that was brought to mind. I counted the letters and realized that Jesus spoke eleven letters that I’m sure took every ounce of strength to say… He said, “Forgive them.”

I looked down at my phone and saw all the letters I managed to piece together “Thank you _ _ _” There were eleven letters. I knew I had to hit send. I hesitated for a moment, but was able to send it.

The person on the other end of the text wanted to continue the conversation, but I didn’t feel the need to respond.

This blog was started a year ago, but I remembered it tonight because this individual reached out for a second time.

I don’t feel the need to get into all the details, but I think it’s important to understand that when boundaries have been crossed, confidentially broken and an alignment is made with the side that is not trustworthy, or truthful, one needs to keep his/her own boundaries.

I had a very godly leader tell me that just because he’d forgiven someone who had crossed boundaries with his family (multiple times) that individual was not to be around his family. Every situation is different.

However, I think it’s important to understand that forgiving doesn’t mean allowing the one who has not sought reconciliation to walk back into your life. Quite frankly, they could do more damage.

I really wrestled with what to do with that text message. I cried from a deep part of me that still is tender to talk about at times. It’s a place that unless you’ve been through it, you can’t understand. The pain goes so deep. It’s hard to know how to explain it. I’ve never been hurt as badly as I have by those few people. But time, and healthy relationships have helped more than I could have imagined.

Writing those eleven letters, took a lot of pray and supernatural strength. I could not do it on my own. But, if I believe in grace and have received grace then when someone is showing a glimmer of remorse, I need to extend grace. This does not mean I open my life to them, but I can be kind. God is love and love is kind and because God loved me, and was kind to me, I can love and be kind to others. But, I cannot do this on my own.

Forgiveness is a process and a powerful tool.