Bullets

Have you ever spent an entire week or more on a single verse of the Bible?

That's where I have found myself the last several days. Hebrews chapter twelve, verse one, a verse many of us can quote.

The Passion Translation reads like this:

"As for us, we have all of these great witnesses who encircle us like clouds. So, we must let go of every wound that has pierced us. Then we will be able to run life's marathon race with passion and determination, for the path has been already marked out before us."

This verse has so much spiritual gold that an entire sermon series could be devoted to it. But the Holy Spirit has kept me pondering just one line, "... we must let go of every wound that has pierced us..."

The commentary accompanying explains it this way, "Or 'get rid of every arrow tip in us.' The implication is carrying an arrow tip inside, a wound that weighs us down and keeps us from running our race with freedom."

Immediately, childhood memories of sitting beside my dad in his recliner and watching TV came flooding back to me.

In the early 1960s, westerns dominated weekly television shows. Without fail, every episode featured a character wounded by an arrow or gunshot, with no doctor in sight. The injured person would bite down on a stick while someone crudely used a sharp knife to extract the arrowhead or bullet.

The victim faced an uncertain fate, but removing the projectile significantly improved their chances of survival.

With that vivid image in mind, I whispered a prayer, "Okay, Lord, where is the festering bullet? What wound remains unhealed because I haven't let go? Is there more than one?"

Be careful what you ask for in prayer; you just might get it.

Memories of events decades old played across my mind like a movie trailer.

Could my prayers remain unanswered simply because I have yet to surrender past wounds? None of us would like to admit it, but the answer to that question is often, 'yes.'

Days turn into months, and months into years in this life journey. With it comes many changes, some expected, some not. There is both tragedy and rejoicing. In each moment, we either give them to God or hold them as our own.

It's our choice.

Spring is drawing near, my friends. The daffodils hidden under the colorless ground are now peaking through, begging us to believe again.

Let's dig out the wounds and allow them to heal. Let's allow the scars from old hurts to become colorful blooms of hope in a new season.

Dare with me to dream again and see where the path will lead.