Pain.

Pain. Not physical pain. Emotional. Spiritual. Oppressive weight of sin.

I teach high school kids and there are times that you can see the pain in their eyes. And stupid lines of professionalism and law prevent us. Prevent us from helping.

I had two friends who worked for DEFACS for a while. An organization whose role it was to help families, yet due to their regulations, they often did greater harm than good.

I sit here right now and the government that claims to care for the kids has pinned my hands behind my back so that I cannot help.

Or am I helpless? Sitting watching a girl cry who thinks she is unnoticed. I may not be able to move in her direction, but I can certainly move towards Father. I see her tears and so does He. I may have guesses about her pain, but He knows for certain.

I still want to scream out, though. I want to take her pain on myself, even if only for one moment. To let her know that others carry it with her.

Bones are easy to set in place. Itchy throats are easy to soothe. How do we mend broken souls? How do you administer healing to the inner man? I know that Christ does it, but when I’m told not to speak of Him, what do I do? I must plead with Him to set all things right and to restore His people to Father.

Restore us. Set these pains right. Give us the strength and grace to endure this momentary suffering.

Pain. Without it we would not know healing. No dawn can blaze forth when no darkness has come before.

Help us endure the darkness until the Sunrise.