The Tear

“Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way, which he has consecrated for us, through the veil, that is to say, his flesh; and having an high priest over the house of God; let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and our bodies washed with pure water.  Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised;) and let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works…”  (Hebrews 10:19-24)
 
I have a journal I write in nearly every day: poetry, prayers, ponderances.  On one page in my new journal for this year, I had torn out a corner of one of the pages to write some important piece of information.  When I came to that page (because who tears a piece of their journal paper from the beginning of the journal? :) the following flowed out around the torn bit:

 
Like a tear in this paper fear had left its mark, underlying anger creeping in the dark—anger at what could have been, at what never was, at what was taken, ripped away much like the tear above.  Anger at my insidious doubt, anger at the fears still within, anger at death stealing life, anger at all I didn’t win.  Anger at lies believed, at the deception of the tongue, at words with no actions, at bad choices, at things I’ve done. 

Like a tear in this paper suddenly they were removed; the anger, fear, pain, taken—buried in the tomb.  Oftentimes tearing is both a loss and a gain, it’s the joy that comes from knowing there is beauty birthed in pain.  The paper may have a hole, a place that seems like loss, but what if the paper is more because of what it cost?  Yes I may not be able to write there, no ink will fill the space, but perhaps the tear says  more, perhaps it speaks of grace.  There is grace in what was taken, grace in what remains.  The rough edges of the tear mark what mere words cannot contain.  Look into the gaping hole and see it’s actually quite full, of the many things that love and grace produce and pull.  Mountains of guilt and shame, rivers of sorrow deep, pulled away with one swift tear, given to mercies keep. 

So, don’t see this page as broken, see it as a unique whole, much as a torn person is still a uniquely beautiful soul.  The tears make us stronger, things taken make room for more; where there is a window one can surely make a door.  The next time you make a tear in a paper or a life, know that grace is present like the precious blood of Christ…
 
 
 
 
Written by Anne Marie Hawke
February 2021
 
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