Rescuing Jesus

"Thus says the Lord:
Share your bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them, and do not turn your back on your own. Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your wound shall be healed; your vindication shall go before you, and the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord shall answer, you shall cry for help, and He will say: 'Here I am!' If you remove from your midst oppression, false accusation and malicious speech; if you bestow your bread on the hungry and satisfy the afflicted; then light shall rise for you in the darkness, and the gloom shall become for you like midday." -[ Isaiah 58: 7-10].


I have many wounds. They arise from the many traumas of my childhood. My near-drowning in a neighbor's pool, when I was about four. The scorched and ashy walls, and the acrid stench, after the fire in my grandmother's house. The bullying taunts from the kids in my old neighborhood. The bruises from a sibling who would hit me. The verbal abuse from my sibling and mother; those cruel words did not bounce off me, like water trickling down harmlessly.  No-- These words, as Maya Angelou used to say, were "Things".

Maya Angelou once said, "Some day we'll be able to measure the power of words. I think they are "Things". They get on the walls. They get in your wallpaper. They get in your rugs, in your upholstery, and your clothes, and finally in to you."

Then, there was my father's anger, expressed as abuse; his face red and fiery, no more than an inch from my own; his lips twisted, his words bitter.

I carried the wounds deep inside me for more decades than I can count. I pushed the pain deep down. I left home at age 18, and tried to pretend that I was simply turning the page in a book, to a new and glorious chapter. I could move on unscathed, I vowed. I could find a new family. . .

But decades later, the pain from the wounds flared up, like some kind of untamable dragon. I could no more control that Pain Dragon, than you could a T-Rex which might come roaring whole out of a fossil-- a raging, complete beast ravaging my world.

Where to put the pain? How to escape it? The pain and fear were even in my nightmares. There was no escape, not sleeping, not awakening.

Yes, I could have anesthetized myself with drink or drugs. But that would have made me confused, weaker, less able to battle the Beast. I was not going to go down without a fight.

I could have taken my anger out on others. But, I visualize Anger as a heavy military vehicle, loaded with ammunition and weapons, but bogged down in mud and swamp. It may look intimidating, its tires squealing, loud, spouting up dirty spray and steam. But the Anger Truck goes nowhere. It sinks, and becomes stuck, in its own mire.

I asked the Pastoral Minister at my church? -- 'Where do I put the pain?'  She told me, 'Put your pain at the foot of the cross, with the Christ crucified. He knows and understands your pain.'

I thought that was beautiful. But the more I imagined Jesus on the cross, the more pained I became. You see, there are deep wounds everywhere in our world, unjust, vicious, cruel. There are even unimaginable wounds ravaging God's Only Son. Sometimes, I cannot bear to look.

And so, I went back to what I did as a child. I refused to accept the abuse. I loved in turn, fiercely.

Traditional psychology teaches that the wounded must take care of themselves, tenderly, endlessly. And yes, we must NOT continue to abuse OURSELVES, long after the abusers are gone -- putting ourselves down, eating poorly, beating ourselves up emotionally, harming ourselves physically. We are created in the image of God, who IS Love. We need the dignity of Love, to survive. Our bodies and souls ARE the Temples of God.

Scripture, however, teaches us that our wounds will heal, not so much through Self-Love, but through Love for others.

"Share our bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them. . . Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your wound shall be quickly healed."

I call this more than social Justice. I call this Spiritual Warfare. Yes, when I feed and clothe the homeless and the oppressed, I am rescuing the marginalized. But at the same time, in a way, I am the Wounded who is endlessly rescuing myself, even as I rescue others.

But, in my Spiritual Warfare, I am also loving Jesus Himself. Mother Teresa said, "I see Jesus in every human being. I say to myself, this is hungry Jesus, I must feed Him.  This is sick Jesus. . . I must wash Him and tend to Him. I serve because I love Jesus."

To live well, after all -- we MUST do good.

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