Tag Archives: Christianity

When People and Salt Scrub Rub Us the Wrong Way

I’d been wanting another pick-me-up. A little something besides my morning coffee to wake up my smile and put an extra spring in my step. For whatever reason, I landed on salt scrub. You know, that stuff you rub yourself silly with in the shower to smooth the rough spots and heal your dry skin. It needed to be scented, of course, but nothing too floral smelling. Something invigorating. That screamed sunshine and happiness.

Being the obsessed, diehard researcher that I am, I scoured the internet for the ultimate in salt scrubs and found one proudly promoting itself as being 100% pure dead sea salt, with a blend of skin smoothing oils, organic, and having an “uplifting lemongrass” scent.


It was a dream come true. It fulfilled everything it promised.

And then some.

Day one I was ecstatic; its oily, course essence making me smell like a bowlful of lemon drops and my skin softer than a baby greased in butter. I swear, that slapped a smile on my face and a quick in my step so fast, I could hardly contain myself. I was in heaven. Day two proved to be just as wonderful, and I was thrilled to add this new, valuable step into my daily routine. That is, until that day.

Because a few weeks later, on that day, my beloved salt scrub turned on me. And instead of slapping a smile on my face, it slipped me a few tears as I held my poor, sweet hand under the water, in hopes of alleviating the excruciating pain emanating from my finger.

Just so you know, if you ever want to find out if you have a paper cut, buy some salt scrub. You’ll know in about 2.3 seconds.

And just like that, what used to be my friend, quickly turned into my foe. And sunshine and birds singing turned into lightning bolts and Nana cursing. It was quite the scene. And also, quite sobering; all the time I had thought my precious fingers were just fine, they weren’t. One of them had a wound that was imperceivable.

Only when it met up with a certain substance, was the wound detected.

Just like our other wounds. The internal ones that cause us to overreact to people in our lives, when in reality, those lovely people are just exposing imperceptible injuries in our souls by rubbing up against us.

Like the times my husband wouldn’t call me during his busy work day, and I would take it as rejection. Just an innocent omission on a busy man’s part would send me spiraling into self-pity and doubt; all because I had unattended wounds that were still open and vulnerable to even the smallest grain of salt.

I’ll never forget something Beth Moore said a few years ago. She said, if you have a scar, you can show it to people, talk about it, even let others touch it, and it won’t bother you or cause you pain. Because scars don’t hurt.

Which means if it does hurt, it’s not a scar.

It’s still a wound.

This makes me wonder…

How many imperceptible wounds are we carrying around and blaming others for, when in reality, they’re just picking a scab off of something that’s already there?

How many times are we unknowingly picking a scab off of somebody else’s wound and then reacting poorly when they get hurt, instead of seeking to look behind their pain to see if maybe there are hidden wounds there that have nothing to do with us?

How many times are we, ourselves, applying salt scrub to somebody else’s wound and adding in-salt to injury in the name of trying to “help” them, by saying things like, “just count it all joy,” when what they really need is a big ol’ hug and a shoulder to cry on?

Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.
Colossians 4:6

Seasoned with salt. Not using the whole dang tub.

I learned a few things in the shower that day (besides don’t put salt scrub on a paper cut). For one, salt can be a wonderfully healing agent but it can also cause a lot of pain. Trust me on this one.

Two, what seems fine-looking on the outside, oftentimes isn’t. So when something rubs up against me and causes me to flinch, I might want to check it out and see if there’s an overlooked wound that needs some attending to, before I blame it on that irritant that’s rubbing up against me.

And third, I don’t need to fear those things that do rub up against me because they can be both wound-revealing and life-refining. For if I let them, they can be used to polish me up to a smooth, butter-baby finish. Both inside and out.

Wishing you a smooth, butter-baby finish too.

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Letting go

SBennettI was going to write a different kind of blog today. You know, a hopeful one with a fluffy, positive ending. (Did I just use the word fluffy??) You catch my drift.

Problem is, I’m not there. I haven’t experienced that kind of ending yet. So basically, it would have been a lie. Good thing I caught myself.

Truth is, I’m still in the middle of no-man’s-land – caught somewhere between all of the stuff I used to do ‘back then’ and whatever might be for me in the future.

The stuff ‘back then’ that I’m referring to? It’s all of the things I just recently let it go of…

The singing at church.
The worship leading.
The lay counseling.
The speaking.
The mentoring.
The book writing.


I let it all go. I can’t explain why – other than a clear pulling and directing of God to lay everything down for now. Even though it hurts like you-know-what.

I’ve never been here before – in no-man’s land. It’s very strange. I’ve always been a planner and a dreamer; and, with God’s help, have always made things happen. And although there is nothing wrong with this in and of itself, it can also be a trap. For people like me who perpetually plan, do, go for things, and make things come to fruition, they can get sucked into always looking into the future. They can use it as an excuse to not live in the moment.

They often never learn how to just “be.”

So perhaps I’m supposed to let it all go so I can finally learn how to really live. And be more mindful of all of beautiful life around me. (I’m already doing things I would have been too busy to do before.) Or maybe God has stripped everything away so that my faith will be strengthened. Or perhaps He’s doing a bit more character refining. (Yahoo.)

All of these are very good reasons. But to be honest, I’m scared. Because I wonder if there’s another reason why God is allowing this. I wonder…

Is God done with me? Did He never have plans for me in the first place? Have I been fooling myself, thinking I was going to do something far more than I am?

Those thoughts foster all kinds of unlovely feelings, let me tell you. Thankfully, I happen to have the best family on the planet. My cousin called me the other night out of concern at midnight his time and, amongst many other wise and encouraging things, slipped in one little sentence I don’t think I’ll ever forget:

God hasn’t put you out to pasture yet.cowbell

And then he sent me a “no cowbell” sign so I could stick it on my mirror to remind myself. I smiled. And then told him as long as he doesn’t call me a cow we’re cool.

I’m going to hang onto that, along with all of the other wise things he said and Scriptures he gave me. (And maybe start collecting cowbells.) God hasn’t put me out to pasture yet.

Even so, I don’t know what God has next for me or what He might resurrect.

But I do know that I want to trust Him no matter what. It’s easy to trust when things are going our way.

I don’t know when any of that might happen.

But I do know that I want to trust Him no matter what. It’s easy to trust when things are going our way.

I don’t even know if He has anything for me next.

But I do know that I want to trust Him no matter what. It’s easy to trust when things are going our way.

If you’ve been wondering why I’m not up on stage anymore, now you know. If you’re traveling through no-man’s-land like me, I hope this serves to let you know that you’re not alone. (Maybe you can start collecting cowbell’s too.) If you’re the praying type, you can pray for me. Not that God will reveal some “thing” He has for me to do. Not that I’ll necessarily sing again, write, or speak again. But that I’ll trust Him. Even when things aren’t going my way. Because in the end,

I’d rather be the right kind of person, than do the most awesome kind of thing.

Thanks, my friend. And have a wonderful Thanksgiving. :)