There are wounds that we live with. Not wounds of open flesh, but wounds that are lived in the flesh: a knot in the stomach, burdened shoulders, restless hands, a heavy heart. Though we may have “dealt” with them in a variety of ways, they tend to resurface, triggered by words, interactions, situations that make us feel as we did long ago, perhaps.
Sometimes slowly, sometimes very quickly they can drag us into a dark and hopeless place. Woundedness. This is and always will be your life, it seems to tell us. How difficult it is to muster up the courage to pray and hope for a life outside this familiar hole, especially when we find ourselves in it time and time again.
Today, Christ, the wounded one, the Risen One, the Living One appears, showing us his wounds, reminding us that in bitter woundedness, he won for us the victory. And though the memory of wounds is not erased, he offers us his life and his peace which prevail. And so for the sake of his sorrowful passion, we dare to pray for mercy.