Psalm 147
Tucked away in a quiet corner of Scripture is a verse containing much emotion: “From the city men groan, and the souls of the wounded cry out” (Job 24:12).
The scene is a busy metropolis. Speed. Movement. Noise. Rows of buildings. All that is obvious, easily seen and heard by the city dweller.
But there is more. Behind and beneath the loud splash of human activity there are invisible aches. Job calls them “groans.” That’s a good word. The Hebrew term enlarges it as it suggests that this groan comes from one who has been wounded. Perhaps that’s the reason Job adds the next line in poetic form, “the souls of the wounded cry out.” In that line, “wounded” comes from a term that means “pierced.” But he is not referring to a physical stabbing, for it is “the soul” that is crying out.
You may be “groaning” because you have been misunderstood or treated unfairly. The wound is deep because the blow came from one whom you trusted and respected. It’s possible that hurt was brought on by someone’s stabbing remark. People are saying things that simply are not true, but to step in and set the record straight would be unwise or inappropriate. So you stay quiet . . . and bleed. Perhaps a comment was made only in passing, but it pierced you deeply.
Others of you are living with the memories of past sins or failures. Although you have confessed and forsaken those ugly, bitter days, the wound stays red and tender. You wonder if it will ever heal. Although it is unknown to others, you live in the fear of being found out . . . and rejected.
Tucked away in a quiet corner of every life are wounds and scars. If they were not there, we would need no Physician. Nor would we need one another.
Hast thou no wound? . . .
No wound, no scar?
Yet, as the Master shall the servant be,
And, pierced are the feet that follow Me;
But thine are whole: can he have followed far
Who has no wound nor scar? (Amy Carmichael)
Only the Great Physician can turn our ugly wound into a scar of beauty.
Taken from Day by Day with Charles Swindoll by Charles R. Swindoll. Copyright © 2000 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. Used by permission of Thomas Nelson. www.thomasnelson.com