Lectio
“These wounds have become a way for grace to erupt in unexpected beauty.”
— Cecilia González-Andrieu, Wounded Grace and the Disquieting Invitation of the Real
Meditatio
When Jesus rose from the grave, he arose with a body still bearing the wounds of the crucifixion. The risen God is the wounded God. Wounded by and for us, out of his love for us, Jesus is every victim, every martyr, and every sufferer.
Christ is every man, woman, and child who has been beaten, betrayed, or taken advantage of. He is the refugee, the unhoused, and the unfed. He is the outcast and the outsider. He is the least of us, and he is all of us — even when we reject or deny him.
Our wounds, especially the wounds the world has given us — the wounds of injustice, unfairness, and inequity — are the wounds of Christ. When we suffer, he suffers. When we cry out for mercy, he not only hears us, but cries out along with us (cf. Psalm 22:24).
And so through our woundedness we find that we are loved. Grace reveals itself through our brokenness. In our suffering, we discover our divinity.
For when we are poor in spirit, when we are brokenhearted, when we mourn or grieve — if we invite Christ into these moments with us, our suffering is transformed through love. We become the meek, the righteous, and the merciful (Matthew 5:3–9).
Our wounds become the entry points through which the light of Christ enters our hearts — and, in an eruption of unexpected beauty, through which his light shines forth into the world (cf. 2 Corinthians 4:7).
This is the cross. This is the crucifixion. This is the death and the resurrection.
Through our wounds, we become Christ, and Christ becomes us.
Oratio
Dear wounded healer
stranger on the road
take me with you
where you lead
I will follow
even to the cross
I am ripped open
torn apart
shattered to pieces
an empty vessel
poured out for you
use my suffering
to your purpose
make my pain your instrument
through my broken heart
bring love into the world
made whole through you
dear wounded healer
risen from the grave
though I know not what I ask
Contemplatio
Where in your own life have you noticed grace erupting through a wound you wished you didn’t have?
Related Scripture
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? … For he did not despise or abhor the affliction of the afflicted; he did not hide his face from me, but heard when I cried to him.”
— Psalm 22:1, 24
For Further Reading
If you enjoyed this post, you may also like What Are You Going Through?, which explores how Christ’s solidarity with the suffering calls us to meet one another in our wounds with the same attentive love he showed blind Bartimaeus.
~Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity.
Wrestling With God.
Returning To Love.
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