The Rusty Fish-Hook That I Don't Want To Talk About

As some of you may have noticed, my blog post is rather late today. That's partly because I'm enjoying a lazy first day of holidays (whoohoo!), but also because I don't want to talk about it.

On the whole, I'm quite good at being vulnerable and open about my past. Last week I shared publicly about what my life was like growing up with depression. When people ask me questions, they often feel the need to remind me I don't have to talk about it if I don't want to. But it doesn't bother me. I'm generally quite happy to talk.

And that's because those things don't hurt me any more. The chains around my heart were broken and those wounds were healed by the love and mercy of my Saviour. They have no power over me now.

Except.

(And this is where I really don't want to talk about it. But we made a deal and He told me others will be blessed from this. So I will push on.)

Somehow, in the first couple of years of my faith, when we prayed over all the difficult things that had happened to me and so on, we missed one. At first, I didn't notice it. I was too busy marvelling in the joy and lightness that dealing with everything else had given me. And that liberation truly was amazing.

But gradually I began to realise that certain conversations caused me pain. It got to the point where if a particular topic was mentioned unexpectedly, I would physically flinch. Though I don't think they realised it, it began to affect some of my relationships with my friends and family. It had the power to make me miserable. 
I became aware that something had to be done about it, and I knew what that something was, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was too hard.

Until this weekend, finally, I was able to find some people I felt safe enough with that I could open up and become truly vulnerable. They helped me to confront the issue and talk, weep and pray through it. And it reminded me of the incredible meaning of the phrase "Freedom in Christ." Because yet again He has healed me.

The cause of all this pain was not some major trauma, some terrible event that is unforgettable for all concerned. I doubt the other people involved even remember it happening. The depth of the wound was not from the sharpness of the injury, but the way it had been allowed to fester and grow.

Our past hurts are like fish-hooks in our hearts, that the enemy can use to hang his lies on. And this particular fish-hook had become rusty. It was there so long I didn't even recognise it at first. But as more and more weights were added to the line, I began to feel it dragging me down.

When I was younger, Satan had his claws well into me. My day-to-day existence was founded on my lack of self-esteem and the untrue beliefs I had about myself. Give him an inch and he'll take a mile; he's called the father of lies for a reason.

When I became a Christian, God snatched me from the clutches of death and claimed me as His own. He vanquished, right then and there, the hold the devil had on me. I was no longer a prisoner of the lies any more.

But.

Old habits die hard. Sometimes the lies are so internalised that we don't realise they are there. Sometimes the fish-hooks are buried so deep that the heart tries to heal over them instead of letting them be removed. It's the way the barb is designed that it sometimes hurts more to take out than to put in. But walking around with hooks in you is just inviting someone to hang stuff on them.

I'm not the only person this has happened to. There are many of us among the healed, who are still hurting. Some of us have secrets buried, things we don't want to talk about. Sometimes it's too painful to even think about.

For me, it was not just the pain that stopped me talking, but the shame of not being the perfect, sorted-out Christian I thought I should be. I didn't want to admit (I'm still struggling to write this post and admit it to you) that I didn't have it all together. 
I didn't want to admit that I still have problems. That I'm not as pure as snow.

I believed when God first "fixed" me that I was all fine and dandy now, that I was gonna be perfect from then on and my life would be plain sailing. But it didn't happen that way and it's taken this weekend to make me realise that I need rescuing now just as much as I did then.

And this is the point where you might not like me any more. 
Because I might be about to say something you don't want to hear.

If this post is making you squirm, if you felt uncomfortable reading it but have nonetheless found yourself at the bottom of the page anyway, I would encourage you to go and have a little chat with God. It could be that you, too, have a rusty fish-hook that needs to be removed. Go and talk to Him about it. Ask Him if there is anything in you He would like to address, and how and when He wants to go about it.
I can tell you more about what I did, if you want, but you need to follow Him not me. I can only take you so far. Only He is the perfect leader. Go seek Him.