Healing is a process that really never ends. We can always go deeper. I have read that one of the mottos said at an archaeological dig is “just bust it out.” They speak of the never ending process of excavation, and sometimes we have to decide to bust through possible artifacts for the sake of the larger archaeological goals. I think there is great wisdom here.
Along the healing journey, we painstakingly peel back layers of wounds, disappointments, and regrets. At some point, we just have to bust through a layer. I remember busting through the layer of victimhood. I had spent a few years thinking, reflecting, and grieving the impact of the curses that I stumbled upon and those that found me. One day, it hit me; I was tired of dwelling on it. I was done being a victim. I had exhausted the area and it was time to move on; it was time to begin a new focus of restoration and rebuilding.
This is not to minimize the role of excavation. There is a richness to be gained in the digging process. As we excavate the layers of our story and the stories of the generations past, we uncover our inheritance. We discover the blessings and curses that make up our legacy. To dismiss our narrative too quickly, to bust through these layers, is to be like the rebellious teenager who chooses to walk a different path for the sheer fact it is not the way of their parents. The adolescent is establishing their identity, and in the early phases this is simply “not them; not that.” Hopefully, with maturity, one’s identity is rooted in something beyond a negative reaction.
Ignoring or short-changing the excavation process leaves us captive to the curses. In the process of avoidance, we unfortunately miss out on the blessings. To quote an old saying, “We throw the baby out with the bath water.” By rejecting the curse we reject the blessing. When we reject the path of suffering through the excavation, we reject the wisdom that is sure to follow.
There were years that I rejected my Christian heritage out of anger. I was angry at local church leaders. I was angry at Church history, especially the Inquisition, the Crusades, and the official stance of silence taken during times of social atrocity such as the Jewish holocaust. I sought ( fought would be more accurate) to be “not Christian.” I eventually began excavating my faith inheritance. I started at the top – my anger. I peeled back the layers and discovered my fears and anxieties. Then my shame. And then I peeled back layers beyond myself. I saw that I was connected to a larger story. I was connected to mysterious words like Incarnation, Annunciation, and Resurrection. These were also a part of me and me of them. The Judeo-Christian story is my genealogy. To reject my inheritance was to kill off a part of myself. It left me an alien without a land to call home. I eventually returned home, and though I still have doubts and moments of shock regarding the history, it is still home. There is no place like home.
As we excavate our lives, we uncover the artifacts that have described us; that have defined us. As we grow in our knowledge and awareness, we grow in our ability to choose the blessings we wish to carry on to the next generation. We also have the opportunity to actively heal the wounds from the curses. When we examine the curses, we are less likely to repeat them.
May we continue to grow in wisdom. May our roots only grow deeper as we excavate the layers of our story.
Next . . . “Y” as in Yearning.
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