You Can't Heal a Wound By Saying It's Not There

PART I. ANATOMY OF THE WOUND Principle One: Acknowledging the Wound There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. - -1- The Wound: Defining it Spiritually and Emotionally Around the world, thousands of people are in the midst of rebuilding lives which have been torn apart by earthquakes and floods. After the major devastation of a natural disaster, the work of rebuilding begins from ground up, layer upon layer. Others face similar rebuilding after dealing with deeply personal devastations. The difference between the two is that those who come for treatment still have their possessions intact. But what they find is that they still feel empty and disoriented. A typical example is Ben, a man who came to our first session explaining he had several luxury cars, a beautiful wife, had made a great deal of money, but was unhappy and restless with all the turmoil in his life. Ben’s wife was binge drinking and partying with her friends, while he sat at home wallowing in his addiction to alcohol and pornography. This was not the way he wanted their life to go. He loved his wife, and had recently reunited with her after a two-month trial separation. However, not much had changed since reuniting. Ben was raised Catholic, but found “some of the doctrines too complicated.” As part of his search he went to a Bible teaching church, which he liked very much, and his wife attended with him. Soon he began thinking about starting a family and saving money. Ben desperately wanted to know why he was addicted and how to be rid of it. This became the focus of our next few sessions. No matter how it’s packaged, what drives people to seek help reflects our first principle: acknowledging a wound. (1) Donald Miller put it this way, "I do buy the idea we are flawed, that there is something in us that is broken." I, too, believe we have a deep sense of knowing about this flaw, which gnaws away inside until we can run from it no longer. Acknowledging the wound is important for two reasons: First, because it gives voice to the pain inside that has long been covered over with addictions or even socially acceptable things like work and achievement. Such was my own case. I recall the event which forced me to acknowledge my wound. Prior to entering seminary, I was preparing a speech to give at my former church in honor of Mental Health Month, encouraging people to be aware of how important it is to maintain a lifestyle of good mental health. I never gave that speech. A tragic family situation occurred which made me realize I was living a lie and had no right to stand before an audience as a mental health expert because my own life was a mess. God moved me to throw away my notes and talk from my heart instead. For the first time I got real as I publicly spoke about the event that enabled me to acknowledge I was a wounded woman who had, until then, hidden behind my education and achievements. Acknowledging the wound also allows one to own the problem and accept the need to work on it if there is ever going to be any change. After I spoke honestly at my former church and owned my wound publicly, I became one of them. People saw me differently and began to share one on one with me about their own wounds. In a formal counseling setting, the patient is aware there is a reason their life is not working. For example, Ben, though troubled with his wife’s behavior, knew he had a problem with drinking, pornography, and frequent masturbation. He realized that while his wife’s behavior was disturbing, he needed to begin working on himself by looking at the issues that compulsively drove him to excel at work, only to find he was unable to deal with life once he came home. Soft spoken, uncomfortable with chaos, disorder, and drama, what began to eat away at him inside was the increasing tension he experienced at home with his wife. She would periodically erupt, raising her voice. He complained she kept the house sloppy by allowing their dogs to mess on the carpet. And she mismanaged money. Ben grew up the only son of a single mother. His father left when Ben was a young boy, so he never knew him. Ben’s mother was loving and kind. She struggled to keep things together financially. Ben grew to play the role of caretaker at a young age. Since he was fourteen-years-old he worked at developing computer software. In his marriage he repeated the role of caretaker. (The transference carried over to the way he related to his wife, although that was not what he consciously wanted.) This kind of scenario will vary from person to person. The important thing is acknowledging the wound in order to own your part in the problem so you may begin to change and heal. Ben acknowledged the problem which meant he “owned it” and “gave voice” to it so he could begin the work of change. Of course we can ignore obvious signs, but things will not change. It reminds me of a recent incident with my GPS. I was traveling to meet friends at a birthday celebration. I was generally familiar with the area but unable to locate the actual street. My GPS almost led me to my destination, except for the last two turns which were critical to my finding the correct place. Unbeknownst to me the address printed on the invitation was off. So, the GPS went berserk telling me to make a U-turn and go south, and when I did, it told me to go north. After two reversals I was aware that either my GPS system needed to be reprogrammed, or I was off track. To end going around in circles I phoned my friends and learned that the destination was “avenue” instead of “street”. With their input I found the place in a few minutes. This is a word picture of what we experience until we acknowledge our wound. We will stay off track, covering the same terrain, and go nowhere. It reminds me of the Jeremiah 6:14 passage from which the title of this book comes. This passage is relevant because the people of ancient Israel took their focus away from God and failed to acknowledge they had a wound. They got off track, kept repeating the same cycles, and became attached to things. It is what Dallas Willard calls “obsession with unsatisfied desires,” or what we know as addictions. That is equally true for us. No matter what we drive, where we shop, or what we possess, nothing really satisfies. Like ancient Israel we struggle with, but never are satisfied with, what we have. And like them we push moral and social boundaries until we cross over the line.