The Wound Becomes a Door

“Let the wound become a door into the desert, and there learn again that God is enough.”

There are wounds that cannot be repaired.

No explanation will undo them.

No apology may come.

No one may ever understand what was taken from you.

The desert fathers would not tell us to pretend otherwise.

They would tell us to enter the wound.

Not to live there in bitterness, but to pass through it.

For sometimes the wound becomes the door through which God leads us away from everything we thought we needed: recognition, belonging, usefulness, vindication, even the life we believed He had given us.

The desert takes these things from our hands one by one.

Until there is nothing left to negotiate.

Nothing left to defend.

Nothing left to prove.

Only God.

This is the terrible mercy hidden within the wound.

What hurt us may never become good.

But it can become a door.

Enter it.

Be silent.

Do not look back endlessly at those who wounded you.

Christ is waiting deeper in the desert.

And there, stripped of everything else, the heart learns the one thing it could not learn while it still possessed everything:

God is enough.