thoughts on cutting

Sweet girl, it is not cool to cut.

Stripes on your wrist are not a sign that your pain is real.

Your pain is already real.

Expressing it in scabs only adds to the drama, tightening the grip of the pain on you, for the sake of a short-term high. The cut only triggers chemicals in your brain. 

It doesn't make things better for long. That's why you have to do it again and again to find that same effect.

You probably know this already.

When Jesus met with the woman at the well (I use the word "met" loosely, because He'd known her since the dawn of time), He offered her water. Water bubbling with life. Water she wouldn't have to return to again and again to find that same of effect of feeling satisfied.

Listening to Demi Lovato's "Skyscraper" on repeat can't give that healing. Saving photos on your computer of cutting can't make you feel less alone. Following pro-healing blogs on tumblr can't pull you out.

There is a river that can wash your cuts clean, and make those scars become souvenirs of "that time long ago, before I was rescued."

Sweet girl, this can change. You are not an accident. You are not your scabs. You can be lifted out and above this.

I just want you to know that, with all the aching of this heart for you.

John 4; Psalm 81; Rom. 8.

I don't usually link to these on my blog, but who knows? It might help.