Ryan's Ramblings

He will wipe every tear from their eyes…
 —Revelation 21:4, NIV

Not long ago, I tore up my shoulder—muscles, ligaments, even chipped a little piece of bone. The pain was bad enough, but what surprised me most was what came next: the bruising. It wasn’t on the outside—it was bleeding on the inside of my arm, hidden.

Over the next few days, that blood seeped down from my shoulder, pooled in my elbow, and settled into my forearm. And it was ugly. At first, it turned a deep purple, then dark blue, then a sickly yellow-green. The colors shifted day by day like some kind of slow-motion storm under my skin. 

But the pain was the real issue. It was worse than the shoulder itself. There was no injury in my elbow or forearm, yet those spots were so tender that even touching them would make me gasp.

At night, if I rolled over and bumped or brushed those bruises, the pain would jolt me awake with a searing, burning sting. Here’s the strange thing: my shoulder—the actual place that was hurt—was healing nicely. But the pain from all that pooled blood stayed with me for weeks.

And I think our hearts work the same way.

A relationship ruptures. A friend wounds us. A season of life collapses. The first wave of pain knocks us down—but it’s what follows that often lingers. The memories, the triggers, the what-ifs. We think we’ve forgiven, think we’ve moved on, then something happens and there it is again—that searing pain flaring up like it’s brand new.

That’s the thing about deep wounds: they leave residue. And sometimes, the most honest thing we can do in that place is lament. Not complain. Not rehearse the hurt. But bring it—fully and honestly—before God.

Mark Vroegop writes, “Lament is a prayer in pain that leads to trust.”

Jesus understands this. He carried not only the wound of the cross, but the ache of betrayal, denial, and abandonment. He knows how long healing can take, and He wants us to trust Him.

“Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering…” (Isaiah 53:4, NIV)

Sometimes God heals quickly. More often, He heals slowly—quietly reabsorbing the pain, like my body re-absorbed that blood. And in that slow work, He invites us close—not to rush past the pain, but to walk with Him in it.

It may look messy and feel worse before it feels better. But it is not wasted. It is healing.

So if the pain still lingers—hidden inside, where no one sees—don’t lose heart. Bring it to Jesus again and again. Tell Him the truth. Stay with Him in it. For the Great Physician is still at work.

And one day, maybe without even noticing when it happened, you’ll realize the color has faded… the tenderness is gone… and what once throbbed with pain has finally been made whole.

And every tear… wiped away.