on the path of healing

unwoven
©6-26-2025 hannah mclean

my body housed
its broken heart

burdened by the weight of loss
it could not bear up
cracking beneath it

and when hands could only hold
one thing together
it chose the soul
while the body fell aside
in a heap of rubble

i’ve walked hand in hand
with my broken heart
i’ve watched as Holy Hands
gathered every piece
that fell along the road of suffering
and mended me back together
and it is well
with my soul

but i have never walked hand in hand
with my broken body

no
 

my fists have pounded upon its bruises
my feet have kicked its aching back
my mouth has torn it apart
as it lay in the dust
shame and blame and disdain
covering it in heaps and mounds
undignified and stripped of worth
while all it ever longed for
was compassion

years have passed
i’ve looked at it again and again
from a safe distance
i’ve learned to draw near even though it hurts
i’ve renounced my curses and
chosen to bless
i’ve shoveled off years of shame
and unburdened it of decades of blame
and fought disdain
and fought disdain again
i’ve told it the truth
fearfully and wonderfully made
by design not function
i’ve even mustered compassion
from time to time

but i remain
a weaving too long upended
the strands still too mixed up within the debris
of too many storms
over too many years
to find their way back together

because my body housed
its broken heart

and only one has been made well

Fault and chastisement

I have spent my entire adult life battling health issues. Literally less than 2 months after my 18th birthday I got a diagnosis that seemed to determine the course of everything that followed; and when a doctor associated it with Celiac’s Disease (an autoimmune disorder that I believe was triggered in me after the death of my little brother when I was very young), I took the blame for the catastrophe that was my body. At every bump and pit along my health journey, I have looked backwards continually at my 18-year-old self and said, “It's your own fault.”

When my body fell apart at the failure of my thyroid, it was my own fault. When I lost my ability to speak after complications with surgery, it was my own fault. When I had to work extra hard for the smallest step forward or when my body fell 10 steps back, it was my own fault. When my body couldn't recover after giving birth...when I miscarried my babies...couldn't regulate my blood pressure...my fault, my fault, my fault. For years and years, I have owned my body's weakness and failures as the consequence of my ignorant teenage choices to not stay off gluten. "It's your own fault," my internal drill sergeant reminds me, "suck it up and accept your consequences. You gave up your chance at health when you were young, so stop complaining. You didn't respect it while you had it, you don't deserve it back. Stand up and keep moving forward."

In some weird way, this acceptance of blame has sort of wrangled my emotions as I have rollercoastered through the ups and downs, reminding me to keep standing instead of rolling over and giving up. It has forced me to find my contentment outside of my circumstances.

And that’s not all bad.

But it’s also not good. Yesterday my drill sergeant’s voice started to bother me, some part of me that the last 24 years hasn't hardened, some part that hasn’t been snuffed out by my body's failures suddenly stood up and pushed back.

“I don’t think that's true,” this unusual spark of resistance called out over the familiar wrestle to quench my sadness. "I don't think it’s my fault."

I tried. I tried to get better. I did everything I knew how to for years and years. I have worked hard for my wellbeing (physically, mentally, spiritually, and relationally), and while I have laid hold of much holistic healing, my physical body still languishes in the dirt. I’ve learned how to rewire my brain toward it over the years; I’ve found moments I have actively felt compassion for it, I’ve intentionally reconnected to it (overriding a trauma response of disassociating) in spite of the emotional turmoil I endure by allowing myself to remain in it, I’ve actively painted it with dignity and value and reminded myself of its goodness by design. And every time I think I’ve got to be done, that the bottom of this gangrenous wound has to be uncovered, I keep finding more.

So today I have been processing my internal resistance. I’ve considered the little voice that stood in the face of the commander and said, “It’s not my fault.”

What is the truth?

The truth is that I have never looked at another sick or suffering person and thought, “It’s your own fault. Suck it up.” I’ve never bypassed compassion and commanded someone to get in line under their responsibility for their own weakness. Why would I judge myself with such harshness when I have never thought so harshly about another?

The truth is that there is much in my life that has affected my body that I have not chosen.

The truth is that association and causation are not the same thing. I don’t know why my thyroid failed me when I was 18-years-old.

The truth is that even if I had messed up everything in my life in regards to my health, I still deserve the basic human compassion that shelters the path of suffering.

“What is the truth?” I asked the Lord.

And He said to me, “Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His wounds we are healed.” [Isaiah 53:4–5]

The word “chastisement” set itself on me, its definition laying out the reality of this lie’s root. To chastise means to censure severely, inflicting punishment on (as by whipping). A censure is a judgment involving condemnation. For 24 years I have carried the condemnation of my broken body; the sentence of a life in the dust has whipped me into line every time I have bucked beneath it. It has pressed upon my shoulders with such weight that I’ve given it permission to remain because I have owned it as a righteous judgment against me.

But He said to me, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” [Romans 8:1]

Break every chain, Lord. No more lies.

He has borne my grief and sorrow, He has been pierced and crushed and chastised and wounded for my peace and for my healing.

“It’s not my fault,” I said over and over again today. Practicing the truth so that the next time the lie falls from my mouth I can crush it before it lands. May the whip that has fallen so many times be absorbed by the One who lent me His body so that I can walk free.

to touch the Father

 the wrestle
©4-4-2024 hannah mclean

He is Jehovah-Rapha, the God who heals
we come to Him again and again
when the broken world breaks us
when the wounded world wounds us
when the fallen nature seeks to fell us  

“be who You say You are,” we plead

and sometimes in our seeking of healing,
the Lord reaches out and touches our body
or our soul
and we are well in a moment

but often times the healing is slow
we must squirm out from under our bondage
feel the pain of the washing of punctured flesh
our deliverance requiring time
the wait warranting a wrestle

and our hearts cry out, “Why?!”

this morning as i looked into the face of the raising sun
and pondered why the wrestle
the Spirit pressed on me
“it is in the wrestle that we get to touch the Father.”

healing in a moment feels the touch of God
but healing through a wrestle
finds the hands clinging to the Father’s arms
beating against the Father’s chest
winding around the Father’s feet

the wrestle is where we draw near:
near enough to feel
the breath of God upon our face;
near enough to feel with our fingers
the finished work of Jesus;
near enough to know not just the Father’s touch
but what it feels like to be with Him

with every reaching hand
and clinging grasp
we learn both the strength
and the gentleness
of the Almighty’s hands and heart

do not despise the wrestle
the wrestle is where we touch the Father

"He loved them to the end."

John 13:1–6 "Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that His hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved His own who were in the world, He loved them to the end. During supper, when the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, to betray Him, Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into His hands, and that He had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper. He laid aside His outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around His waist. Then He poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around Him."

 

“He loved them to the end.”

He knew who He had chosen;
He knew the zeal of Peter,
the rolls of thunder in the sons of Zebedee,
the doubt in the mind of Thomas.
He knew the schemes that had made Matthew rich,
and how the sun glinted off the dagger of Simon.
He knew the eyes that slept while He prayed,
the feet that would scatter in the days ahead,
the lives that would be lost while living out His commission.

And He knew the one who would kiss His face
as He was bound amid the green of Gethsemane.

It was with knowledge of the soft and of the hard,
with the certainty of His enduring, pursuing love,
that Jesus used His final hours
to descend yet again
placing Himself beneath the feet of those who followed Him.

The hands into which the Father had given all things
tied a towel around His waist
and cradled the dirty feet of those He knew and loved;
desiring they would be clean
more than the deity of His own hands.

The One with the right to cast down
bent down
for the sake of love.

He loved them to the end;
the ones with their hearts given over to Him
and the one who opposed Him to death.
His love was not deterred by the hatred of man;
instead, it made provision for the devoted to live
and for the hateful to turn.

Rising from the floor on which He knelt,
His voice flowed into the room made quiet by what had been received.
It rolled across the hearts of those made clean
filling their senses with His holy, holy, holy call,
“Love as I have loved you.”

The worship that lingers

It was an extravagant act of worship.
She took the expensive ointment and anointed the feet of Jesus.
The feet of Creator God clothed with the flesh of created man.
With great audacity, she unwrapped her hair and wiped His holy feet.
And with great audacity, He let her.

And it says, “The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.” John 12:3b

It filled the senses of those who observed it.
It filled the home where it had been poured out.
It lingered on the clothes of those who were there and followed them to their own dwellings.
It stuck to Jesus’ skin, leaving imprints wherever His feet stepped.

Mary’s worship lingered.
It lingered upon her head as a fragrant crown of beauty
reserved for the ones who bring whole-hearted worship.
And when she lay her head down that night,
the fragrance would remind her that He had received her.

And yet
both Mary and Messiah knew,
that the ointment was for anointing
that when the fragrance wore off
there would be a burial
for the heel which held the fragrance
would be bruised for the one who wiped it with her hair.

how long?

 the fool who believed
©12-12-22 hannah mclean

i whimper beneath
this heap of broken things
the pieces of the crushed
the defeated
the battles lost
bury my body

strength long proven
too little
fight to climb out
too fleeting

how long?

why do i hear
the trumpet of victory
sound from
my enemy’s camp
when i lean on
the Greater Power?

the shame You promised
to bear away
has stacked itself
upon my shoulders

sin broke
and scorn remains

how long?

the enemy mocks
the seeming futility
of my faith
“where is your God?”

but i know who You are
i would rather be
the fool who believed
than the fool who scoffed

 

------

 

"Consider and answer me, O Lord my God; light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death, lest my enemy say, "I have prevailed over him," lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken." Psalm 13:3–4

In the beginning

He always brings me back to the beginning. Not of my life, but of life itself. He lifts me up from the deepest caverns of my most painful wounded being and sets me upon His shoulder so that I can watch Him create all that exists. “In the beginning, Elohim created the heavens and the earth.” (Genesis 1:1). “Watch.” He whispers, “Listen to My voice, see what springs from My authority and reverberates off of this great void with crescendos of My glory. Behold My intention, be moved by My love, gape at the splendor of My making, bend your knee at the magnitude of My power.” And in the keeping of this holy, holy, holy God, I immerse myself into the wonder of His name.

i am Your idea, Elohim
    i am not Your afterthought
    i am by design, not by accident
    the result of a good Creator’s
    careful hands

Every day ordained;
    His breath in my lungs and
    His Spirit in my body
    Born twice as His own

i am not lesser
    i am loved
i am not unacceptable
    i am intended
i am not unwanted
    i am called and appointed
i am not undesirable
    i am redeemed

From the vantage point upon His mighty shoulder, I renounce every thought and word that has scratched itself upon my being—inside and out—the poisonous lie that the One who knit me together did not do good work. For into the marvel of the earth that surrounds me, I have been placed by Sovereign hands.

Holy Blood for tainted flesh

deliverance
©5-7-2022 hannah mclean

i can feel the turning
of the tides that wouldn’t let up
i can hear the falling
of the chains that wouldn’t release
i can smell the changing
of the seasons that have brought perpetual decline
i can see the glories
of the hidden mysteries of His heart

who are you,
o enemy of Christ’s beloved,
to stop the Finished Work
from hitting its mark?

for what is it that poured with such a force
to push back the tide i couldn’t bear up against
to break the chains i could not pry apart
to change the days from barren to fruitful
to pull aside the veil to reveal the depths and heights?

it’s the Blood
Holy Blood for tainted flesh
Redeeming Blood for bloody curse
Blood that speaks a better word
the final word
with authority that makes you flee
carrying your workmanship away with you

and so i feel and hear and smell and see
i let the waters shift
the power move
the seasons transform before my eyes
where years of faith give way to sight
and endless darkness give way to light
and i lean in
into the wonders coming
from the fullness of the Finished Work
i have longed and labored to lay hold of

Biblical Women

I saw this post yesterday @sketchysermons, and it made me smile. I’ve been on an intentional journey since 2018 to gain an understanding of what “biblical womanhood” looks like; in part because I have been healing from the damage done to my femininity by my childhood church during critical ages of development, but also partly so that I can articulate to my children God’s view of women. In general the Church exalts the Marys of the Martha’s sister variety, quietly learning at the feet of Jesus, and the Ruths with their devoted, servant hearts. But scripture has a lot more to say about the women God made and chose to include on the pages of His holy book than this woefully limited (though lovely) box has room for. Personality and matters of the heart are two different things, and the exclusion of the former from discussions surrounding womanhood has been detrimental to the dignity of women in the body of Christ because many of us find ourselves disqualified before we’ve even set foot on the ground. This tiny sketch breaks down the sides of the box we’ve set up and forces us to reconsider its boundaries.

This sketch speaks of Jael, who was honored when she drove a tent peg through the skull of Sisera, the commander of a wicked king’s army, with such force that it plunged into the ground beneath it. There’s twice I can think of (1 Samuel 25 and 2 Samuel 20) where one single woman faced entire armies on full-force revenge missions and stopped them from causing mass destruction. The apostle Paul, who wrote a large portion of the new testament, honors the women who worked side-by-side with him in the spread of the gospel—supporting financially, laboring physically, and even, in the case of Phoebe, going on a dangerous mission to bring one of his letters into Rome where Nero was in the process of lighting believers on fire for entertainment purposes. The church needs to remember Jesus doesn’t just affirm Mary, He affirmed her sister Martha (John 11:5) whose bold personality may have made it hard for her to sit still, but it certainly brought with it a propensity to get things done. The Lord highlights a great variety of personalities and propensities including prophetesses, business women, teachers, former prostitutes, a deaconess and even a female apostle (Romans 16:7) highly respected among the disciples.

I’m still gathering my words, but I can say with full confidence that it is not scripture that minimizes or demeans women—the womanhood we see in the Bible is quite a beautiful, dynamic thing to observe—instead, it is human explanations, though often well-intentioned, that continue to do the greatest damage. So if you are on your own journey, I encourage you to set aside the teachings you’ve gathered, and do your own wrestling with God through the pages of the Bible, starting at chapter 1 of Genesis, with the understanding that a good God, who does good work, in love formed woman in His own image. And whether you are the type of woman God created to tend a home or to build a house, to mother a child or to disciple a neighbor, to gently hold the hand of the weak or to curl your fingers around a tent peg, you will find that Biblical Womanhood includes your personality type. And as for heart posture, Jesus will align and refine us with His Word by His Spirit as we abide in Him.

And that is all for now. But, if you see me with this sticker somewhere on my person, you will know why. :)

What my ruin cannot rob me of

It was one of those day. They don’t happen often, maybe a handful of times in my life. I looked in the mirror and my involuntary reaction to what I saw was to weep. I bawled. The body of the person looking back at me was so broken, so fallen, so grotesque that the hope-extracting question that lingers in the back of my mind hit me like a whip and left a ringing in my ears: “Is my body so far gone that it is irreparable?” I wanted to respond with, “No. With God all things are possible;” but my memory knows the paths my body has walked and limped and staggered and dragged itself. So instead I let myself sink to the floor and give the tears the time they needed to fall.

When the wells of sorrow or disappointment or discouragement or whatever painful mix those salty waters held finally ran dry, I stood and dried my face as I heard myself whisper, “Grieve quickly the things you cannot change.”

Twenty years have taught me that it’s on the days like these that I know I need to cover my broken body with a garment of thankfulness. So as I opened the door that allowed me my moment of confrontation, I chose to be grateful that even in my state of perpetual ruin, I can still serve the Lord.

And with that truth a necessary crutch, I continue my limp as I wait for tomorrow, because tomorrow is a new day…and maybe that one will be the day of redemption.

———

John 12:1–3 “Six days before the Passover, Jesus therefore came to Bethany, where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. So they gave a dinner for him there. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those reclining with him at table. Mary therefore took a pound of expensive ointment made from pure nard, and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.”

the undoing

un
©10-10-2021 hannah mclean

it’s the words
that buried themselves
in the deepest parts
of me
hidden in places
i haven’t thought to seek
emerging from the shadows
in the moments
of my own emergence
to convince me
to back down
to remain within the confines
of their hinderances

unwanted
unaccepted
unnecessary
unwelcome
unknown

i know what it is
to be Lazarus
called out from my tomb
with new breath in my lungs
and grave clothes
binding what was once dead

but what of Jesus’ words before
the miracle of new life
“did I not tell you that if you believed
you would see the glory of God?”
a life redeemed is one of glory on display
the extent of which
is only fully seen in the unbinding
of the remnants of death

unwanted
unaccepted
unnecessary
unwelcome
unknown

my soul cries out
for deliverance from the pain
of these words
from their power to stifle
growth in me
from their enduring pursuit of
convincing me
to shut up the
wells of life
that begin to flow forth from
the places they seek to keep residence

the soul ties of silence
insist my knees bend
to their masterful reasoning
for only when my words
remain hidden inside my mouth
do these words
return to their crevices within

unwanted
unaccepted
unnecessary
unwelcome
unknown

but in the lifting of my ear
i hear resounding over
their degrading cadence
a different song
the sound of glad rejoicing
of love that quiets and
of exultation from holy lips
for He has tended to this broken
He has gathered in this outcast
He has taken on Himself this shame
He has brought near His side this one
who has stood wishing on the outside
and He has made known

for only in the presence
of the Lord my God
do the “un”s meet the silence
of their own undoing

wanted
accepted
necessary
welcome
known

 

----
"The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty One who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you by His love; He will exult over you with loud singing. I will gather those of you who mourn for the festival, so that you will no longer suffer reproach. Behold, at that time I will deal with all your oppressors. And I will save the lame and gather the outcast, and I will change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth. At that time I will bring you in, at the time when I gather you together; for I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes,” says the Lord. ~ Zephaniah 3:17–20

from womb to woman

Psalm 139:13–18 “For You formed my inward parts; You knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are Your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from You, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in Your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. How precious to me are Your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with You.”

foreknown
©9-28-2021 hannah mclean

as Your hands formed
Your eyes saw
not just what You were creating
but what i would become

with many thoughts
You molded me
weaving within my very being
what the touch of Your hands
feel like upon my life

the impressions of
Your holy fingerprints
brought me from
substance to soul
marking me in Your making
with the knowledge
of Your wonder

foreknown
for a purpose
unfolding as time
turns the days
ordained for me

and today i worship
for even now
from womb to woman
i am still with You

Reproach

REPROACH: An expression of rebuke or disapproval; a cause or occasion of blame, discredit or disgrace; one subjected to censure [judgment involving condemnation; the act of blaming or condemning sternly] or scorn.

 

I can feel the pain of my soul—the entirety of my person—as I read this word and its meanings. Clearly this word remains stamped upon me; it covers beauty never realized like the defacing of graffiti, and mars like the careless application of a stamp slammed down with force. Reproach. The cause of shame…The subject of disgrace…An object to be scorned…A person to be despised…The one to be blamed…I want to accept these reproaches, to rationalize why they belong to me, to justify the hands that stamped them there (even my own). I want to examine each mark to determine its validity to see if the merit behind it should allow—no, demand—that I keep it to wear as a badge of dishonor, a warning to my future ambitions. 

But You look down at me from Your hanging place, where your blood stains both the wood and the ground beneath it. You’ve already determined the merit of my markings. You’ve already sorted what has been cast upon me, what has rested upon me, what ways I am to be despised.

“I am the Lamb without blemish; My blood makes the marked ones clean; My love covers a multitude of sins and leaves the ones who receive it free. I’ll take it all— every marking, every declaration, every judgment, every disgrace, every ounce of blame…the sum of all your reproach.”

"You know my reproach,
    and my shame and my dishonor;
    my foes are all known to You.

Reproaches have broken my heart,
    so that I am in despair.
I looked for pity, but there was none,
    and for comforters, but I found none.

They gave me poison for food,
    and for My thirst they gave Me sour wine to drink."

Psalm 69:19–21

May I walk by faith, not by sight.

burn away the dross

 a purified cry
©12-14-2020 hannah mclean

oh to lock eyes
with Your eyes of fire
let them burn away the dross
You see into my
heart and soul
i will not suffer loss
for the fire of
Your faithful flames
makes pure
and right and true
and all that must
be burned away
leaves me nearer, Lord, to You

my heart
it burns within me
my soul
for You it longs
my life
it reaches heavenward
my spirit
pours out song

this i know,
Faithful and True,
i will endure the ashes
for the beauty
that is drawn by You
i kneel upon the altar
as a living sacrifice
burn away the dross
that when i rise
there stands
an overflowing fountain of new life

Your diadem befits You
as my cry begins to ring
“behold the Lamb”
behind me
before me
“behold the King”

-----
Revelation 19:11–13 “Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse! The One sitting on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and makes war. His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on His head are many diadems, and He has a name written that no one knows but Himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which He is called is The Word of God.”

The Chasm and the Blood of Peace

I was in prayer the other night for our country, and my heart was drawn to the painful present overview of the response to the pandemic. As I prayed, I watched the land be split in two and the space grow between the 2 pieces of ground until a vast, bottomless chasm was left. In prayer, I saw on one side of the expanse the “haves”…the rich, the powerful, adults. And on the other, the “have nots”…the poor, the weak, children. As I watched the divide grow between the people, I looked at what was tearing them apart and separating them in such a grotesque way. Huge principalities of “fear,” “greed,” “pride” and “hatred” propelled the sides outward, and a call echoed throughout the divide, “Every man for himself!”

And as I looked upon the devastation of the “have nots” with even less, and the “haves” who had gathered more, I sat and wept before the Lord.

Eventually, I quietly, humbly asked Him, “What can heal such a divide?”

And He said, “The blood is the bridge.”
And He brought to mind this verse:

Colossians 1:19-20 (21-23)
“For in [Christ] all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Him to reconcile to Himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of His cross.”

There are ones who can bridge the divide…who can walk across the chasm as if on solid ground. They are the ones redeemed by the blood of Jesus.

Why the redeemed?
Two reasons:
1) They are at peace with the LORD.

I told Nathan the other day that the least appreciated piece of the armor of God we have received in Ephesians 6 are the shoes of readiness. They way I understand these shoes is different than I’ve ever heard anyone explain them, so I will try to articulate how I see them. Ephesians 6:15 says, “and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace.” The readiness given by the gospel of peace: What is this peace the gospel has given us? It has justified us before our righteous Judge; it has given us peace with the Father, through the work of Jesus so we can enter into the very presence of God, just as Adam and Eve did before the fall in the Garden of Eden. Because of the blood of Jesus, we are at peace with our Maker. Do you know how powerful a position that is? I hope you do. It’s like the apostle Paul is wrestling with in Philippians 1 where he’s setting life and death before him and stating simply, hey, both have their benefits for me, where God takes me doesn’t matter because for me, “To live is Christ, to die is gain.” When we are at peace the the Lord, the demands of life, the opinions of people, and the dividing factors of fear, greed, pride and hatred lose their power over us. By the grace of God, we redeemed sinners carry with us the call to die to self and live out the love of Jesus in the world around us…come what may. Romans 16:20 says, “The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.” OUR feet.

Which leads us nicely into the second reason:

2) The redeemed carry with them the power of the blood to make whole.

Remember in Luke 4 when Jesus stood in the synagogue and read from the scroll of Isaiah (chapter 61), He read verses 1-2a and stopped abruptly with the declaration that Him standing there that very moment was a fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy.

It’s one of everyone’s favorite verses to quote, but they stop too soon. So Isaiah 61:1-4 says:
The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me,
    because the Lord has anointed Me
to bring good news to the poor;
    He has sent Me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
    and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, 

This is where Jesus stopped…declaring this portion was fulfilled in Him.

    and the day of vengeance of our God;
    to comfort all who mourn;
to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
    to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
    the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
    the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.

If you have been redeemed and raised up by the finished work of Jesus—brought from death to life—He has planted you as an oak of righteousness for His glory….and He has done it with PURPOSE!

We find that purpose in verse 4:

They shall build up the ancient ruins;
    they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
    the devastations of many generations.

At this moment, we stand in verse 4. Right now, through the Church AT THIS TIME, this verse is to be fulfilled.

We are to BUILD and RAISE UP and REPAIR. Looking out over this chasm, it is not the result of just the Pandemic…it is the result of ancient ruins and generations of devastation. We look upon the culmination of years of ruin and devastation; wickedness has taken it’s filthy hands and ripped apart the fabric of society and civility and dignity, it has celebrated the violence and violation of humanity because we are marked by the image of God, whom it detests.

The redeemed must rebuild upon the divide, because we carry the healing properties of the blood of Christ upon the white robes that cover our sin scarred bodies. Every place our feet tread should leave the mark of hope…the promise of possibility because we are the ones who KNOW the power of the blood…we’ve received the good news, our broken hearts have been bound up, we’ve been freed from the captivity of our side and released from our prison chains, we’ve been comforted, we’ve seen the Lord bring beauty from ashes, and praise from our fainting spirits…and we’ve known the utter glory and wonder of being made righteous by God Himself poured out for us.

And so, He says, Build up…raise up…repair. Because contrary to the call echoing across this charm of “every man for himself,” we do not seek self, we seek the eternal good of those around us, no matter which side of the divide they stand upon. We don’t have to bow to fear because He is with us; we don’t have to be consumed by greed when the One who provides for us has called us to pour ourselves out; we can humbly bear up under the disapproval of others because we’re at peace with the One who sees us clearly; we don’t have permission to hate because we are called to love with the greater love of Jesus that we have mercifully received.

The blood is the bridge. And if you are covered in the blood, you carry the materials for the bridge. So RISE UP, Church! Rise up and stand in the power of the God of Peace who will crush Satan under your feet.

clarity and purity and beauty

where all is clear
©5-23-2020 hannah mclean

there is clarity
in the purity
in the beauty
of the Holy Holy Holy

untainted by sin
wholeness
untarnished
lacking nothing

Creator
of wisdom
of vision
of life

nothing is outside of
Your scope
never surprised
never startled
never afraid
because all is known

all seeing
amidst stillness
steady hand
without defeat

victorious
Almighty
God of Wonders
God of Miracles

You unscramble
what is twisted
distorted
and maimed

if i am to limp
it will be after You have
worked
not before

Keeper
Comforter
Finisher of Faith

i will eat
from the table
You have prepared
drink from the cup
You have shared
lie down in the pastures
You lead me to
and rest with the
quietness of waters
ever beside me

there is clarity
in the purity
in the beauty
of the Holy Holy Holy

Gun-Shy

There’s a really detrimental view of what walking out our faith journey with Jesus is suppose to look like; the American version of the gospel is that once we accept salvation, all will be rosy. But the reality is, growing in faith can be painful. And I want to be real and open with you about a current painful refining moment in my life. You might read this and recoil at the audacity of what I say out loud...but here’s the thing, I already poured all this out before Jesus and He still loves me. So I can lay out what is shameful about me because I don’t carry that shame anymore, He voluntarily took it from me when He climbed on the cross and let His blood flow for me. 

Recovering from delivering twins has been hard, my hormones are still so wacked out that one month my hair will be dripping grease and the next my eyes are so dry I have to pour eye drops in them continually. I realized yesterday that my typical urge to cast myself and my physical challenges at the feet of the Lord has been checked within me...I am gun-shy. 

Yes, you read that right, I am gun-shy about entrusting my health to the Lord. Meaning, I don’t trust Him with it. 

Yes, I realize how insane that sounds. I have spent the last 15 years intentionally placing myself in the Lord’s hands. He has sustained me through the violent ups and downs of my health; He has healed deep wounds my physical weaknesses have inflicted on my heart and mind; He has gently tended to me in the ordinary needs and in the unusual; He has provided me with strength when I have had none and hope when I have despaired; he has even used my health problems as a bridge to salvation. 

And yet, yesterday I laid down with my face to the floor and wept as this poured out of me:

———

i don’t trust you
i desperately long 
to cast myself upon You 
to rest my physical body 
in Your creating, sustaining hands 
with confidence 
that You will 
tend 
and not break

pushed repeatedly 
to the edge of despair 
though You have sustained 
my heart bears 
the scars 
of painful valleys 
of dark nights of the soul 
of endless days of waiting 
looking to the hills 
for help to come 
and finding only 
the rising and setting sun

i do not trust You 
i weep at my doubt 
ashamed that my heart lies wounded 
when you have blessed 
and carried 
and revealed 
through every moment 
of bleakness 
and dread 
and fear 
and floundering 
i feel abandoned 
entrusted to my own 
helpless hands 
holding nothing 
but the realization that 
my faith is too small

i know that You are 
good present living kind
Healer Hope life
abundant safe Refuge
strength Redeemer 

help my unbelief 
help me step from 
under the shadow 
of years lost 
and into the shadow 
of years found

a crushed reed 
i may be 
but it is only the might 
of Your hand 
that can bear up 
beneath the weight 
of its fragility 

Father 
i long to rest myself in You
i long to feel my fear 
dispel in the presence 
of Your love 
weak but unwavering 
hoping but not waiting 
content in my lack 
and in my gain

———

Because here’s the thing, I just somehow endured a twin pregnancy. And yes, it was full of miracles, but it was literally my greatest physical fear and I had to look it in the eye and plow through it for ~240 days. I walked out of my first ultrasound honestly believing I would die. I had to feel the pain and strain of it on my physical body knowing I never even started with what was required to see it through. 

And I’m gun-shy. I am afraid of what trials I may face within His hands. Because here’s the deal...I know that the Word says that “a bruised reed He will not break,” but I also know...KNOW...that sometimes the fact that the bruised reed doesn’t break is not because it has been given strength, but because He is kind enough to sustain it through the storms it must endure. 

And maybe I’m really afraid of the storms in front of me...the sound of rushing waters hit my ears and I do not know if they are in my path or not. And I long to trust. 

And Jesus, oh my Jesus. He is so tender with my sobbing mess. “Let Me bear those scars,” He said to me—faithless and broken and poured out before Him, “I have scars enough for you. The score your body keeps, let Me wipe away the marks of days lost and let Me write upon you a new score of days redeemed and days restored.” 

And how can I not trust THAT love after all these years.

Psalm 69:19–21

I came across this verse yesterday, and when I read it, the words swelled up in me. I’ve been processing through some childhood trauma, and I felt like the silenced voice of the little girl in me cried out to God with the psalmist.

“YOU know my reproach,” that little girl cried,
    “and my shame and my dishonor;
    my foes are all known to You.
Reproaches have broken my heart,
    so that I am in despair.”

Memories flowed through my mind as a sob welled up in my words...

“I looked for pity, but there was none,
    and for comforters, but I found none.”

I choked upon my sadness...

“They gave me poison for food...”
        and suddenly that little voice turned into that of my Savior
                     “...and for My thirst they gave Me sour wine to drink.”

And I cried. What a beautiful thing for the Lord to give me to rest upon as I heal. To give me a prophetic verse of Christ upon the cross to pair with my pain. In this passage I find two Truths that draw me into the arms of my Beautiful Healer:

First, the Lord was present with me in my suffering. He KNOWS it because He is acquainted with it.
And second, the cross is sufficient to cover the offenses done against me. He is enough.

trustworthy

simple trust
©10-31-18 hannah mclean

in spite of the complexity of my thoughts
of the specificity of my words
of the odd angles of my view
i am simple

i trust the LORD

wholly

if He tells me something
i believe Him

if His Word says something it true
i believe it

when i encounter hard things
i expect Him to be who He says He is
i expect Him to do what He says He will do

whether i understand fully now
or remain confused for the moment
i trust Him to reveal in His time
or conceal is His wisdom

i trust the Lord

wholly

and sometimes i wonder why
why do i do that?
why does it seem to come easy when others struggle?
where did that trust come from?
how come i can wholeheartedly lean on the Lord with such simplicity?

and in this season of healing old wounds
i see one reason

for many years
the LORD is the ONLY ONE i trusted 
every other person failed
even my own hands came up empty

but there was the LORD

and He was trustworthy
and i was overwhelmed with fear
and the sight was such a comfort
that i cast myself upon Him
i lay myself before Him
i wound myself around Him
i placed myself within His mighty arms

and in that place of trust
i found peace

and in that place of trust
i still find peace

and in that place of trust
i will always find peace

because simply put
the LORD is trustworthy
and in that sweet simplicity
i can wholly rest

-----

Isaiah 26:3–4 “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in You. Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD God is an everlasting rock.”

The greater pain.

I spent a couple of hours weeping today...hour drives to and from allow time for that. I’ve been confronted with some deep wounds this season and am reminding myself continually that the Lord’s intention of revealing is always to bring healing. So I brace myself; letting the waves of pain crash over me instead of bolting away in fear.


Throughout my entire childhood, I was hurt by men claiming to bear the name of Jesus but displaying none of His goodness, and I am afraid that I blocked out things then that I don’t want to see today. These men have left marks across the core of my womanhood in such a way that as I stand back to look at them with new eyes, I see that there are parts of me that are truly mangled. I feel raw and vulnerable, and I ache in such a way that sometimes I feel like my shoulders are physically pulled down and inward.


It’s a different pain...a greater pain...than the pain inflicted on me by men outside of the Body of Christ. That pain is far more bearable than this, because this pain is twisted in such a way that the men who wielded their weapons wore masks labeled “God” so as to create confusion about who was causing my pain. And the hammers used to pound me down did not just land upon my body or my soul but also upon my spirit.


In my mind, I look upon a little girl alone in a desert. So small and so confused about her worth, her position and her pain. Silent tears slide down her face, over lips pressed together, no longer willing to cry out. Barren landscapes on every side show there is no escape, no end in sight. She stands still, facing the first colors of a sunrise, daring to hope that light is coming.


And one of the reasons I wept is because of those rays beginning to peek over the horizon. God is so gentle and wonderfully kind; in this season of revealed wounds, He has surrounded me with good, godly men to take part in healing the pieces of me that have been broken by their own. And I am grateful for this, because I have known wholeness to melt away the pain of what has been twisted simply by being present. And sometimes when past pain feels so physical, visible strength and presence make for the best environment to not just heal, but to cause the redeemed heart to flourish.


----


"The bows of the mighty are broken, but the feeble bind on strength." 1 Samuel 2:4