A month ago, I posted the story of how God healed me from Celiac Disease. The responses and love I’ve received since then have been OVERWHELMING. God is so good and He has been showing OFF with His faithfulness! A few days ago though, I realized that healing is so much more than just a physical relief.
While on the way to Nashville with some of my best friends, I listened to a song called “Chains Hit the Ground” by Leeland. One lyric in particular stood out to me:
“When you bowed your head
Your love was poured out
And my chains hit the ground”
I always think of chains like the big sins of life. You know, like things that the Lord has set me free from in big ways (like depression) or along the way in small stages in my past. Until this moment, I would have told you that I was free from all my chains and that the Lord set me from them when I surrendered my life to him in 2011.
In that moment though, driving through Chattanooga on a winding scenic road, the Lord gave me a picture of myself. And I was covered in chains. These chains were heavy and rusted. They were wrapped around my neck and around my arms. I was stooped over, my back breaking. There were so many chains around me, I almost looked like I was made of them. I looked miserable and in so much pain.
This image shocked me. I pridefully thought, “That’s not me, Lord. You set me free from chains in my past. I am free.”
But the Lord gently and quickly showed me that I have been carrying around needless chains my whole life that I wouldn’t let him take.
It’s never occurred to me that chains can be emotional things like negative self worth. Like anxiety. Like insecurities of being not good enough or not desired enough. Of not being beautiful.
These insecurities and emotional wounds are weighing me down and have weighed me down for quite some time. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t function in relationships. I can’t accept what the Lord says about my worth. And it is destroying me. I am a ticking time bomb of chains that is coming close to the edge of breaking.
I came to the realization that healing is more than eating Chickfila and donuts. Jesus healed my body from Celiac disease, and now he’s healing my heart. He’s not content to leave us where we’re at. He is faithful to make us look more like Him.
Jesus is saddened that I would choose to carry around these emotional chains. He offers freedom from them. Freedom isn’t just for big chains like depression or for deep wounding ones that come with sexual sin. Freedom is available to us for everything that holds us back from reaching our fullest potential in Jesus.
I’m reminded of the painting that the Lord used to show me his love when He healed me from Celiac. In the painting, there was a girl with reddish blonde hair on a blue-gray background suspended in a graceful dance. She was unhindered. Not tied down. There was nothing separating her from the love of the Father. There were no chains to hold her back. She was free.
“This is how I see you, sweet girl,” The Lord had told me that night. I realized the same is true now. Beth Moore says, “Jesus wants to woo us to a place of absolute freedom—the only kind of freedom that is real.” Who’s to say that freedom from deep, cutting, emotional wounds and chains can’t be included in that?
And so, through the grace of Jesus (and if I’m honest, the help of counseling) I’m learning to love myself. I’m learning to let Jesus take off my debilitating chains one by one. Sometimes, letting him take my chains hurts. Sometimes, he has to dig around and reopen the wounds that the chains have caused. But he is faithful to clean and dress the wound. He tenderly and gently mends it and starts the process again on another chain.
Eventually, I will be free of these ancient emotional chains and I will no longer be a slave to them. Until then, I am nestling under the arms of my Jesus, breathing in his intoxicating sweet scent, knowing he is the ultimate healer and the ultimate Father. I rejoice in the momentary pain because I know that means he loves me and that I am his. And he is going to make me the best Anne I can possibly be.
