When Love Hurts
Pouring grace over our deepest wounds.
One of the hardest things I’ve ever done is sit in a chair and watch my friend make me soup.
Even now, I can still feel the shortness of my breath and the pressure in my chest. The very act of breathing in and out felt heavy, like I couldn’t get enough oxygen. The burning sensation in my chest felt like it would rip me open from the inside out.
And yet, there I sat in a hard, wooden chair under the yellow glow of my friend’s kitchen lights. Voiceless and motionless, I willed the room to stop spinning for one second so I could catch my breath.
It is a strange sensation to sit on the edge of anxiety and panic. I tried to concentrate on anything except the torrent of emotions coursing through me. The chair, my hands, the napkins on the table. My quiet, still presence reflected anything but the dizziness in my head, the crawling sensation on my skin, and the ironic sense that I needed to run out of there, be anywhere but here.
I looked up at my friend, whose back was turned to me, stirring the pot of soup. And, I wondered if there was any excuse for me to quietly leave. Exit right.
Later, as we sat at her dining room table, I agonized over every bite. Hoping my friend wouldn’t see my hands shaking or ask me if I was really okay. I needed to let go. I needed to let my body release the screaming inside me, to speak, to feel the feelings. But, it felt easier to breathe under the crushing heaviness of my own internal torment than to attempt to bear the weight of any more kindness.
Have you ever been undone by a small act of care or concern? In the midst of your own dysregulation, weakness, anxiety, or debilitating grief has love ever surprised you? Has a small intimate gesture offered freely ever felt like everything you needed but simultaneously dangerous and terrifyingly unsafe? Has someone’s kindness ever felt hard to accept? Does it ever feel safer to isolate or shut down than to face the rejection or abandonment your heart tells you will inevitably follow your vulnerability?
In my life, love often came at a price. It was given conditionally and demanded to be repaid. Nothing was free. Patience was lacking and punishment was quick.
I learned how to survive and thrive within this mindset. Strictly follow the rules around you. Figure out what other people need, so you don’t accidentally take something from them. Deflect kindness. Don’t ask for help. Accept nothing more than what you have given or can repay. Keep the scales always weighted on your side, so you never end up in debt.
The problem is that an inability to receive freely goes directly against the grain of the gospel. And, it always leads to heartache and bondage.
We were created to be loved unconditionally. We were created to be provided for. Love was not meant to be a heavy burden, but a source of strength and freedom.
But, broken pieces of our story and the voices of the broken people in it too often speak louder than the softer, gentler whispers of love. The depravity of man and the deceitfulness of sin slowly hardens our hearts, until we can no longer receive grace.
The problem is that an inability to receive freely goes directly against the grain of the gospel. And, it always leads to heartache and bondage. We were created to be loved unconditionally.
Whatever you label it, panic or anxiety or attachment disorder, the heart has learned for so long that love hurts immeasurably and comes at a cost that can not be borne, and it shuts down. Perceived no longer as a source of safety or comfort, kindness instead triggers a defensive reflex that sounds like warning bells.
And, we lock up our hearts and move on.
As a Christian, we too often paint these walls around our broken hearts with acts of service and good doctrine. One religious platitude and one good deed at a time, we cover over our own heart’s cry with productivity and a practiced smile. And, we tell ourselves that this is our sacrifice of praise.
Until one day we realize it all feels heavy. And we do not feel free.
Until one day when you’re spread thin and tired and triggered. When that thing from your past comes clawing up or that person hurts you, again. And, then someone who loves you makes you soup. Or shows up at your door when you said you were fine. Or gives you a hug that lasts longer than you can hold your breath. Or asks if you are okay. Twice.
And a vein in your heart is brushed that reminds you how hungry your heart has been all this time. And, you realize that you are broken. Desperately needy. Poor and needy. Starving.
And, it scares you to death. It feels like the depth of it will consume you or the person in front of you. And, all you want to do is run. Or, smile. And say, yes I’m fine. What can I do for you?
Or maybe it’s just another day alone. One day too many that you have suffered in silence.
It is in this moment that Satan often rises up to accuse you. You will know his voice because it always leads to condemnation. Yes, you are unworthy, weak. This is your fault. These people don’t actually love you. You are too much for them. If you open these floodgates, you will drown yourself, and everyone around you will leave. Or, if you’ve been listening long enough, he will get even craftier. He will say things like, you’re better than this. You’re tougher than this. Don’t be selfish. You should be over this by now. Just get out of your own head. Serve others and you will feel better. Hold your peace.
The problem is eventually you will break. It might not happen today or tomorrow or this year. Or next. But, at some point, God willing, you will wear yourself down enough that you will no longer be able to ignore the deep wounds He has been waiting to help you heal.
You will start to realize that every sentence you try to tell yourself is starting to begin with, “I can’t.” I can no longer do this feeling, this relationship, this ministry. Your body will start to break. Your heart will start to freeze over and freeze up.
When you reach this place where you realize you can no longer “do it” anymore. When the fruitfulness of your days begins to falter and the fruit produced is less and less desirable.
Remember this parable from Jesus.
“A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it but did not find any. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, ‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’
“‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’”
~ Luke 13:6-9
Jesus’ response to the tree that isn’t able to bear fruit is grace upon grace. He says, I know it’s been a long time. The problem isn’t the tree. The problem is the hardened soil around it. It needs tending to, and it needs time and nourishment to regain the strength to bear fruit.
And, it needs to accept that nourishment and draw it up into the heart of the tree, so it can be healed and strengthened.
In life, we don’t get to choose where we are planted. Sometimes, the conditions around us don’t kill us entirely, but they slowly kill our ability to bear up and bear fruit. The world’s response is to give up on us, to say we’re not useful or valuable. “Cut it down!”
Jesus’ response is special care and concern. He wants to get to the root of the cause. It doesn’t always smell good or look good or feel good when Jesus is digging around in the roots of your story and who you are, but it is holy and it is necessary.
I have too often measured my value and worth by productivity and my ability to bear fruit. Jesus is helping me to rewrite these lies I have carried for far too long. He is teaching me many things about healing, wholeness, boundaries, rest, and what it looks like to live in such a way that leads to cheerful giving and gracious ministry.
It doesn’t always smell good or look good or feel good when Jesus is digging around in the roots of your story and who you are, but it is holy and it is necessary.
Even still, during certain times or seasons, like the holidays, my anxiety rises around relationships and my blood runs thicker with the body memories of far too many moments of pain. Sometimes, I can’t even identify the trigger, but I can feel it scraping up against old wounds.
When this happens, I remind myself of three divine truths.
#1 You don’t have to be fruitful all the time.
This isn’t natural, and it isn’t biblical. In creation, a tree goes through seasons of dormancy and rest, new life and growth, and then the bearing of fruit. What season are you in? I am learning there are times when I need to rest and heal. There are times when I feel great, but God is still working on and preparing me for what’s next. And, there are times when I am actively working and bearing fruit in answer to His call. God is faithful to call you into His work when you are ready. Learn to accept seasons of rest and blessing. Look for where He is calling you to rest, study, pray, and grow. Listen and wait for Him to call you to your next step. Don’t force your way forward ahead of Him. It is always better and more fruitful to walk in step with the Spirit.
#2 If it feels heavy, it is not from the Lord.
This is a truth I am still learning to accept and understand, but I have found this to be a good question to ask myself: Does this feel heavy? Jesus says His burden is light and He came to set us free. He loves a cheerful giver and a servant who does not give under compulsion. Don’t give in to pride. Jesus doesn’t need you. Just like when Mordecai goes to the queen in the story of Esther. He tells her that if she doesn’t go to the King to speak on behalf of the Jews, salvation will come from somewhere else. We love Esther’s story, but we read right past Mordecai’s understanding faith. God’s plan will go forth with or without you. He doesn’t need us. But, we’re invited. That said, what Jesus does want is your whole, willing heart. I am learning that if “it” feels heavy, I’m probably in a season of healing, preparation, or growth. And, then I say “no.” It’s the hardest word for me, and I’m terrible at doing it. But, it’s getting easier. Jesus doesn’t want your obligatory service. He doesn’t want your guilty, compelled, “yes.” If you can’t serve with willingness and cheerfulness, own it! When you free yourself to say “no” you will start to notice the deep joy of your “yes.”
#3 Flashlights over floodlights.
This is a concept my counselor shared with me. When you are working through heavy issues, like relationships or healing from abuse, trauma, grief, or loss it’s easy to look at the great big picture and either feel overwhelmed or like the step you are taking is far too small. When Jesus engages with challenging people, He often starts small. He asks you for a cup of water. He invites you to lunch. Sometimes, flashlights are better than floodlights. For example, if you can hardly stand the idea of spending the entire holiday with “that person” then maybe don’t. Go for half the day, or an hour, or make a phone call, send a card. Or, don’t. You will make no positive progress for yourself or the well-being of the relationship by doing the exact same thing you’ve been doing that is eating you alive. Choose something small that feels like freedom and that you can do with your whole heart. Whatever you are up against, pull out your flashlight not your floodlight. And, just take the next small step.
Most importantly, when it feels like the whole world is against you and the loudest voice is your own, remember that how you feel doesn’t define who you are. Your heart matters to God, at all times and in every season.
In Psalm 51, David writes:
My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart
you, God, will not despise.
~ Psalm 51:17
You may despise your broken spirit, but God does not. Sometimes, the only gift you have to give and the only sacrifice you have to offer Jesus is your broken heart. He wants it. Only then can He pour grace over every fractured piece. It is only when we dare to trust Jesus with our whole heart and our whole story that we unleash the full redemptive power of the gospel in our lives.
Sometimes, the only gift you have to give and the only sacrifice you have to offer Jesus is your broken heart.
Sometimes, I think we forget that the very reason Jesus came to earth was to care for our broken hearts. In Isaiah 61, Jesus says he was sent “to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom.”
Jesus didn’t just come to save you from sin. He came to heal you, to lead you toward wholeness. To remove your burdens. To set you free.
And, this love is free.
You can’t earn His grace or your salvation. It is freely given.
Almost a year after my friend made me soup in her kitchen that day, she made me soup again. Since that day, I had gone to counseling, spent countless time at the feet of Jesus, healed from a lot of trauma, processed depression and grief I thought might never end, and was finally starting to see light.
This time, we were at my house. I was sitting at my kitchen table. I was animatedly telling her a lengthy story, when all of a sudden, I realized she had just finished making me soup. The same soup she made me a year prior. We had been visiting the whole time. I had not helped at all. And, it felt right. It felt whole. I was letting her love me, and she was loving doing it. And, that was enough. I felt a warm wave of emotion course through my entire body.
This is what Jesus wants from you. He wants you to open your hands and let Him fill them. He wants you to bring all of your brokenness to Him. He wants to sit down and reveal what you have so desperately kept hidden from yourself. And heal it. Fully. Maybe not quickly, but in its time and its season.
Jesus wants to love you. And, this love is free.
Today, if you are feeling broken and unworthy, weak, and like everything comes at a price you can not pay, it’s okay. If the sight of Starbucks holiday cups and people out buying presents and laughing and talking about holiday plans sometimes makes you cringe, it’s okay. When everyone else at church is giving above and beyond in this season and you feel like you have nothing to bring, it’s okay. If you feel like locking all your doors and not coming out until January, it’s okay.
But, please don’t.
Pull out your flashlight and ask yourself what your heart needs. Dare to ask for help. Dare to invite yourself over. Dare to let someone love you back.
And, remember that Jesus created you to be loved. You are a masterpiece of God, and there is nothing His grace can’t paint into beauty. There is only one unique “you” and you were made in the image of God. Something about you reflects the divine nature of Jesus that only you possess. Even in your brokenness. No one and nothing can change the fact that you are loved deeply and fully and unconditionally by the One who gets the final say.
Jesus paid all your debt, and you don’t pay Jesus back. You couldn’t if you wanted to. You receive and rest in the glorious freedom He offers. You join Him in binding up your broken heart and the hearts of those around you.
Friend, you are loved. God loves you first, and He loves you still. More than you could ever imagine.
Today, let Him love you. Let others love you. And, love the people around you well.
Friend, are you letting God love you, first?
Ask yourself these three questions, and ask Jesus how to take your next step towards joining Him in binding up broken hearts - including your own!
1
Am I willing to give myself grace in this time and this season of my life?
2
Do I believe that Jesus created me to be loved unconditionally?
3
Am I living and serving freely in the grace of God?
One more thing…
Looking for a little more?
Friend, if you resonated with this post, here are some related resources you may find helpful on your journey toward healing and wholeness:
BOOKS:
When God Loves You First
Redeeming Heartache
Safe People
PODCAST:
View more of our recommended
books & resources, here.
