I’m not what most would call adventurous. I’m a homebody. I like to play it safe, appreciate routine, cleanliness, and order.

Recently, however, I stepped out of my comfort zone. My husband and I were invited on an excursion to Brimstone—an ATV recreation park in east Tennessee. “It’ll be fun,” they said. “You’ll love it,” they promised.

We owned a side-by-side but wondered if we had the attire for such an adventure. Being late winter, the forecast, despite sunshine, called for brisk temperatures. We’d need boots, coveralls, and thermal gloves. Protective eye goggles sounded good, and what about helmets?

The weekend arrived, and we, along with a dozen others, set out on a bright Saturday morning. I felt confident in my clothing. Though I was a good 20-years older than the majority—even the mother of one—I considered myself cool. Hip. “I can do this,” I promised myself. “It’ll be fun,” I said.

And it was. I was warm and safe, held snug by my safety belt. The abundance of mud slung throughout the duration of our 7-hour ride didn’t penetrate my glasses, and my feet never got cold. I was protected, literally, from head to toe.

But one thing I noticed as we bumped along over all those hours, across wild terrain—a wound I didn’t realize still lay beneath the surface ached a bit as the day went by. Having injured my tailbone some years prior, I hadn’t taken into consideration any extra padding for my seat. After all, on most days, it doesn’t hurt. But as the hours passed, I sensed a slight discomfort that threatened to steal my joy, rob me of good, clean (figuratively) fun.

All said, I survived the weekend and had a great time, escaping without injury. But I’ve been thinking. We’d prepared with the protective gear to keep us safe, but no matter what I wore, the wound deep inside still ached.

And isn’t that true in our spiritual lives as well? We’re given the armor of God to protect us from the enemy’s scheme to rob us of peace, of joy (Ephesians 6). Still, there are times when a hurt deep inside is stirred—a reminder that there’s an unresolved issue. Perhaps it’s fear, insecurity, or a painful memory.

God’s armor is ours for the taking, promised when appropriated in prayer, but because we live in an imperfect world, there might be areas of brokenness beneath, unseen by others, often unnoticed by us. Circumstances may bring these to the surface, a reminder of wounds still there—those things not fully healed.

As we adventure through life, we should wear the appropriate attire, but we should also be aware that there may be places yet in need of healing—things, in fact, that might not be fully whole until Heaven.

For an old homebody like me, this brings peace. As we cling to God’s promises, much like I grip the emergency handle in our side-by-side, we may hear in our hearts–

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds (Psalm 147:3—NIV).

Yes, even if complete healing doesn’t come until we’re finally Home.


What areas might need inner healing? Ask the Lord to reveal them, then heal them–in Jesus’ name!

Dear Jesus, heal our inner wounds–those areas deep down that still ache and are in need of Your touch. Perhaps we don’t even realize we have those places, but if we do, please reveal them to us so that we might walk in complete wholeness and freedom. Thank you, precious Savior. Amen.