Healing Archives - Kristin Saatzer

What was her name?

This woman who fought for it?

For her to touch anyone was prohibited. She was considered unclean in her culture because of her sickness. She had used all her money visiting healers who offered no cure for the condition that consumed her for twelve years. Even still, she possessed a tenacious faith.

For she said within herself, if I may but touch His garment, I shall be whole.

Matthew 9:21 Webster’s Bible Translation

The garment she wanted to touch belonged to Jesus Christ. Jewish men of His day wore cloaks with a required blue-tassel hem to remind them of the Torah (the law of God) and that they were God’s people. As an animated throng swarmed around the Savior, this woman pushed past her fears and cultural laws and grasped the hem of the healer.

And healed she was.

I see echoes of myself in this woman (how I wish we knew her name). My journey, strewn with one painful, draining condition to the next. And not all physical. There is a slew of emotional afflictions painted on my life’s canvas.
This painting of pain began early. Dark shadows trail in my mind of cruelties delivered to a little-girl-me by one I loved dearly. I recall abuses from my kindergarten teacher, like the day she wrenched my arm and dragged me out of a bathroom stall as she uttered nasty words. As I retrace these moments and many more, my heart feels the feels all over again. Oh, how grateful I am that the paintbrush rendered many cheerful colors along the way, but the blacks and grays are consistent in the mix. At times, I felt downright wrecked, as if my soul was broken.

Wreckage is a repercussion of pain. The damage is incalculable, the fallout overwhelming. It can hit us like a truck and leave us bleeding on the pavement with no oomph to seek help, and without the desire to get well. The wreckage in my life showed in different forms: depression, low self-worth, loneliness, emptiness, fear, nightmares, bad decisions, and the list goes on.

But God

My God has shown me beauty in my broken.

You see when we flip the fall-out and allow ourselves to view our brokenness with a changed lens, our perspective shifts as we discover the fingers of God holding the paintbrush. This requires a tenacious faith, as the woman in Matthew 9 displays. Such a daring move by this long-suffering believer. This fighter.

We too must fight to be whole.Continue Reading

“A friend loves at all times.” {Proverbs 17:17, NKJV}

“I know you’re depressed; don’t try to deny it. I’ll be praying for you; call me if you need me. Or call someone.”

Tossing the phone, I crumpled to the floor. Crushed by Kathy’s words.

She saw through me. I thought my got-it-all-together act was working. Not with this friend, not anymore. Could anyone else suspect the heartache inside my soul too?

Why did I feel the need to hide this dreary secret? Pride, I suppose. I had presented a picture of my world as a woman, wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, church member, and Christian who had it all going on. Thinking if I revealed my true self, others may see me as weak and view my faith shaky.

After all, sad people came to me for help. I was the burden barer not the burden sharer. A church leader for goodness’ sake.

However, this life of mine had become an act. I barely made it through each day. I cried myself to sleep each night. Absurdly denying the truth to myself day after day after day. Depression was taking over as my chemical imbalance gained speed with each passing week.

Kathy’s words pricked at my heart. I sensed Gods nudging: It is time to break down your walls. You need a friend to help you.

Picking myself up off the ground, I inhaled a breath of courage and decided to tell someone about my profound sadness. And there it began.

I chose Kimberly, the right friend for the job. Sitting together at dinner, I experienced immense release in the telling as tears dropped on the table between us.

After this initial step, I took a few more — including seeking medical help.

On this healing road, I learned an unexpected thing: Needing a friend can sometimes mean being a friend.

I found it surprising that Kimberly appeared almost happy to hear my struggles. No, that’s not quite right, she was pleased and touched that I came to her baring my heart. I felt my veneer split, adding depth to our relationship by showing my sweet friend I trusted in her worth, by revealing my true, messed–up self.

My pride survived the telling as God humbled me graciously, yet strengthened me too, all in the course of one citrus-salad dinner.

Holding on to my nerve, I sought more support by reaching out to other real and vulnerable women. Admirable (chocolate loving) gals. Friends possessing deep and authentic faith who desired to be there for me.

I landed in their sweet place of acceptance and unconditional love. In return, they received the real, imperfect, armor-free me.

Sometimes the silly armor begins creeping up around me yet again. As I begin putting on the perfect act, I remember that needing can mean being a friend. So I pick up the phone, reach out to my girls and crush the armor.

And you? Is it time to get real? Are you tired of appearing to have it all going on? Is it time to reach out by bringing your heartache, realness, or weakness to the table?

With God’s help, you too may crush that seemingly perfect but cumbersome armor. I pray the Lord will prick your heart, dear one, let Him lead you to your own trustworthy, admirable, chocolate-loving friend.