Have you ever been deeply wounded by another person who, with deliberate action and malice aforethought, hurt you on purpose?

Have you waited for justice to be served?

And waited some more?

Are you still waiting?

(Maddening, isn’t it?)

In our broken world, wounds come in three ways. Sometimes people wound us unintentionally. It is to be expected in the rough and tumble of imperfect people living on Planet Earth. These wounds are easier to forgive because there was no malicious intent.

Sometimes we wound ourselves by our own poor choices. We make bad and/or foolish decisions. That pain is at the self-serve pump. No one to blame but ourselves.

Then there are the wounds inflicted by others who hurt us on purpose. They knew exactly what they were doing and they did it anyway. Perhaps it was a quick measured decision. Perhaps it was a long process of planning to do evil to us. And when we are blindsided by their harmful actions we stagger back, wondering how anyone could do so much intentional damage with no regard or conscience?

In the middle of our pain we console ourselves with the thought that certainly justice will be coming. The account will be set straight. They will have an attack of conscience and come to us with apology and we will have our satisfaction. Then we will be vindicated.

At first we hope for that.

Then we wait for that.

Then we wait some more.

Then we seethe over the delay and think, “It will happen. It must happen.”

(Not you, of course. But people I know. They think this way.)

Then one day we wake up and realize that the apology we’re waiting for will never come. Their conscience has cobwebs on it. More infuriating, the one who did evil to us is cruising through life without hitting so much as a speed bump.

What to do?

Here’s what my friend Jennifer has to say on the topic. I don’t think anyone could say it better. If you see yourself at all in the above paragraphs, this will hit you like a train. Read this carefully, let it sink in. Apply it to your life if you need to, then pass it along to anyone who could benefit.

“Picture yourself walking through your life at this moment. But turn yourself around in your picture….you’re walking backwards. Not traveling to the past, but moving forward into your future, while facing backwards.

Instead of seeing your future and all the new people in it, you are constantly staring at your awful past. Especially at those who did evil to you.

As long as you continue to want to be vindicated and wish for an apology while looking back at how wrongly you were treated, reflecting constantly on how you were gipped, you will walk your life moving in a forward motion, only facing backwards.

Walking forward, facing backwards you will miss all the beauty of the things and people in your life right now. Because in your soul you are not facing them, you are looking backwards. And because of that you will see your future through past events. It will cause you to guard your heart and miss out on all the joy because of your “facing backwards” perspective.

It will happen in your thoughts. It will happen during what should be happy moments. All are tainted by facing backwards.

When you decide to grab your healing by the horns and shout it out that you refuse to allow one more day to be stolen, you will find yourself turning around and walking forwards, facing forwards.  Then you will see the new things, the new people and the good things that are happening in your life.” - Jennifer Hildebrandt 

 ”This one thing I do: Forgetting what lies behind and straining toward what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 3:13b-14

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

The “junk drawer”.

Most often found in the kitchen, it usually barely opens. Pull it out five inches and a ruler or a tire pressure gauge or a plastic thingy from some forgotten project gets stuck cross ways and you have to jiggle the drawer back and forth.

Why the plastic thingy is there, you can’t remember.

What the plastic thingy is, you can’t remember.

Why you didn’t throw it away, you can’t remember.

Why you don’t throw it away now?

The reason there will always be a junk drawer.

And why it will always be full.

When I moved into my place here in Lubbock, I told myself I wasn’t going to have a junk drawer. No need for it. “A place for everything and everything in its place”, is what I said.

A year later the drawer by the stove that started out complete with organizer tray is full of pens that don’t work, jagged tip Sharpies, zip ties, twist ties, Zip-Lock bags, a padlock, matches, stray paper clips, hose washers, a partial roll of silicone tape, mini Phillips screwdrivers, a magnetic stud finder, an empty packing tape dispenser, a blue Crayon, an empty bottle of dry erase board cleaner, AAA batteries (some new, some not, who knows which are which), picture wire, paint samples, a phone charger, push pins, and a shopping list scrawled on a napkin.

The thing about junk drawers is that ours is the only one in the world that makes sense. If you’ve ever been to a friend’s house and in looking for a fork to eat your cake with you pull out their junk drawer, your first thought is, “Why the heck are they hanging on to all this crap?” Our friends are idiots for keeping leftover parts from the ceiling fan installation but somehow the two wooden dowel pegs, half a pack of Juicy Fruit and broken sprinkler heads in our drawer are the epitome of frugality and foresight.

The solution, it would seem, would be to give each other permission to clean out the other guy’s drawer.

It doesn’t make sense to hang on to an empty bottle of dry erase cleaner. It also doesn’t make sense to hang on to empty relationships. Or grudges. Or bitter feelings toward someone who did us wrong. But we do. Maybe we think we’ll use them again someday. Maybe we’re afraid of what will happen or how we’ll feel if we toss them out. The resentment and pain that keeps our drawer from opening all the way just gets jiggled around, but never thrown away.

A friend looking in the junk drawer of our heart would say, “Why the heck are you hanging on to all this crap?”

And they’d be right.

The solution, it would seem, would be to give someone permission to help us clean out our drawer. Someone to help us identify our emotional junk and why we need to get rid of it. A trusted friend, a wise counselor, someone who can help us with the process of dumping our drawer to clear the way for healthy relationships and make room for a healthy life.

It’s a smart thing to do.

Now if they could just help me with that drawer in my kitchen…

“Listen to counsel and accept discipline, that you may be wise the rest of your days.” – Proverbs 19:20 

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

A double glance in the rear view mirror (I’ve heard the stories about people backing before looking) tells me I’m cleared for takeoff. Out in the driveway I reach up, push the button to close the garage door and…

Nothing.

Ever notice that stuff like this never happens on days you have plenty of time?

Press the button again. And again. Harder. Really hard.

Nothing.

As if harder would fix it. Kind of like how every game of Pictionary has people who think their answer will be right if they just keep saying it louder.

Get out of the car. Check the wall mounted opener on the inside.

Nothing.

I was about to engage the manual override (pull that red cord thingy and drop the door like our grandparents, who were their own garage door opener) when I remembered a random thing my friend Brent had said in a conversation several months ago. He said during certain times of the year, during certain times of the day, his garage door won’t go down.

Could it be?

Remembering what he said, I checked the eastern sky and looked down at the safety sensor mounted at the bottom of the track. Positioning my body just so, I cast an intervening shadow…

…and pressed the button.

Door down.

The sensor was so blinded by the sun that it couldn’t read the steady signal being sent by it’s companion on the other side.

It happens to us, too. This blindness. For some, it’s an overbooked schedule that keeps us from hearing the requests for balance being sent by our families. For some, it’s a chronic circumstance or a painful past that, over time, we’ve allowed to define us. For some, it’s an addiction that dulls us to everything except our next fix of food or drugs or alcohol or pornography. Whatever “it” is, it’s in our face. Incessant and relentless, it prevents us from seeing the steady signals being sent by the other side; the side we need in order to function in the way we’re designed to do.

It takes an intervening shadow. Someone to step in between you and whatever is blinding your vision. A friend who stands in the gap long enough to get your attention and long enough for you to hear the messages you’ve not been receiving. In the extreme, it’s a full blown intervention. In the day to day, it should be a friend or friends we regularly invite to be the intervening shadow in our life.

These past couple years have been, in more ways than I can say, hell for me. Yet a decision I made early on has meant the difference between success and failure. The difference between sanity and insanity. The difference between hope and futility. The difference between character and cowardice. My decision? I purposely and pro-actively surrounded myself with intervening shadows. Counselors, advisors, mentors and friends, many of them older and all of them wiser than me. I gave every one of them permission to point out my blind spots. I gave every one of them permission to kick my butt if they thought I needed it.

Suffice it to say they did some pointing.

And no small amount of butt kicking.

And it made all the difference.

In relationships, there is a difference between “being transparent” and “being vulnerable”. Transparency means I control how much of me I let you see. Vulnerability means I give you permission to work truth into my life. We can be transparent with many. Vulnerable with only a few. A small circle of intervening shadows, committed to our growth and bent on doing their part in helping us to “be conformed to the image of His Son” (Romans 8:29). It’s hard work. Gut wrenching work, if you’re doing it right. You’ll cry and you’ll cuss. But the character and clarity of vision that comes from committed friendships is invaluable.   

Whatever’s in your face, whatever’s blinding you, get some intervening shadows in your life. You can’t afford to surround yourself with a bunch of “yes” people who tell you what you want to hear. You need people who will stand in the gap and tell you the truth until you’re able to tell the truth to  yourself.

My life and my future are too important. I can’t afford to be the leader of my own “rubber stamp parade”.

Neither can you.

“Better is open rebuke than love that is concealed. Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but deceitful are the kisses of an enemy.”

- Proverbs 27:5-6

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com 

A pleasant discovery upon moving to the Phoenix valley was how much life exists in the desert. God has created a number of both plants and animals to thrive in this climate.

One enjoyable way to get some exercise during the months October through May, the time when it isn’t a gazillion degrees hot, is to hike in the Superstition Mountains. Besides getting away from the incessant noise of the city, it’s fascinating to get a close look at the plant life. The green bark of the Palo Verde trees. The rubbery feel of the jojoba leaves. The spiny needle tips of the agaves. Fiery orange blooms of the ocotillo. And if you’ve ever been in the desert after a rain, you’ll never forget the scent of greasewood in the air.

And there are cactus. The names describe them well. Chain Fruit Cholla. Strawberry Hedgehog. Fishhook Barrel. Clock-face Prickly Pear. A couple of my visiting friends have gotten a bit too close to some of the cactus. They learned the hard way that the plant is called “Jumping Cholla” for a reason.

To me, the most impressive cactus in the desert is the Saguaro. Carnegiea gigantea for you botanists. Like human beings, it is the only living species in its genus. The usual life span of the saguaro is between 150 and 200 years, yet the odds against these giant cactus becoming giant are more than great. A saguaro may produce as many as 40 million seeds in its lifetime while only one of these seeds will likely mature into a plant that outlives its parent. A saguaro fortunate to develop as a seedling will, at the age of 3 years, measure only one half an inch in height. They don’t bloom for the first time until they are about 50 years old, and grow their first arm around age 75.

A fascinating feature of the saguaro is the way it responds to being wounded. When a Gila Woodpecker or a Northern Flicker pecks through the thick waxy skin and hollows out a hole to make a nest, the saguaro seals that part of itself with a callus. It limits the damage and prevents decay from taking over the rest of the plant.

When it comes to the wounds in our life, we can all learn something from the saguaro. This giant cactus can’t stop woodpeckers and flickers from poking holes in its skin. Instead it seals the wound to keep from “bleeding to death”. Otherwise the wound would be allowed opportunity to decay. Necrosis would set in and eventually kill the plant.

We don’t have woodpeckers trying to poke holes in us. But we get wounded just the same. Life is rough and tumble. The Bible is right up front about that. It says in Psalm 34:19 that “Many are the afflictions of the righteous…”. Which is another way of saying that life is hard for even the kindest among us. Being a good person doesn’t make you immune from pain. We can’t control that. We’ve all been wounded.

We can’t always stop people from poking emotional holes in us. But we do have full control of our decision to treat, or not treat, our wound. Some of us are emotionally bleeding to death because we have chosen not to seal off our wound. Some of us are decaying from a wound inflicted on us many years ago. We’re playing the blame game, replaying in our mind the injustice done to us like a loop tape in a VCR. Blame and self-pity are drugs we’ve become addicted to. In the meantime, we look for some park ranger to feel sorry for us while we sit and decay, bitterly waiting for the woodpecker to come back and apologize.

Yet even if the woodpecker returns, full of remorse and contrition,  a hole is a hole. An apology might make us feel better, but a wound is a wound. When choose not to treat our emotional wound, we’re choosing not to grow.

Reality is that we won’t begin to heal until we decide to seal off the wounded area, limit the damage, and focus on growing up. There’s a reason 200 year old saguaros grow to be 200 years old. They don’t allow one woodpecker hole to determine their future.

How are you doing with your woodpecker holes? Are they sealed off? If you still have some open wounds, you’re not alone in your experience. God cares about you. And your wounds. With gentle grace and forgiveness, He wants to heal and seal; for the purpose of strong growth. God wants you to grow tall!

Sometime soon go for a hike out in the desert. Even if you have to hop a plane to get here, it’s worth it. Take a close look at the saguaros; these stately persevering creations of God. Run your fingers over a cactus callus and see the beauty of a century old plant that refuses to quit.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” – Psalm 34:18