I Bleed When Pricked

I ended up with one of the worst migraines I've had in a very long time. I couldn't open my eyes because I was so sensitive to any ray of light. I could barely feel my arm and hand because they both kept tingling with numbness. I was so nauseated I couldn't eat. I actually had tears falling because I hurt so badly. I was unable to function.  It resulted in such debilitating pain I found myself in the doctor's office waiting to get a shot of pain medication.

As the nurse pricked my arm with the needle that would deliver the medicine to help me feel better, I heard her remark, "Oops, you bleed when pricked, huh?" I looked down to see drops of blood where the needle had pricked my skin. Ordinarily the sight of blood would cause me to be queazy but I was in so much pain I couldn't even bring myself to care.

It's true. I bleed when pricked.

I've found myself in such a debilitating state that I can't move or function. I've been rendered useless because of my actions, my sin, and even worse, my pride.

I've been numb to my cirumstance and my own actions that have resulted in my paralyzed state.

I've found myself  blinded by the light that seeks to reveal the areas I've so desperately tried to conceal.

I've been literally physically sick to my stomach because of the wretchesness of my choices and my decisions.

:Layer after layer can be built around my hardened heart but one truth remains...I bleed when pricked.

So I'm left with this fact and the reality that all it takes is one prick.

If I will but allow the Lord that one tiny place where He can enter in and deliver the redeeming balm I so desperately need...

If I surrender my lifeless, helpless state and allow Him to inject His Spirit into me...

If I give over my pain and numbness and allow Him to restore my feelings with His words of truth...

If I let Him prick my heart, it will bleed...

I bleed when pricked. And I'm glad to know that, because I can be wounded by words, framed by failure, shamed by sin, paralyzed by pain...but deep within is still a beating, bleeding heart. And this heart, as crushed as it's been at times, still beats and bleeds for the God who has saved it. I'm undeserving of His love. I'm unworthy of His forgiveness. But whether broken or hardened, my heart is His. Amidst the pieces and beneath the layers, it still bleeds for Him.