There are some things that are better the second time around. Spaghetti, for example, is always better the second day. You know, you come home from a hard day at work, and you have no desire to cook. There is that golden moment when you remember that Mom sent some homemade spaghetti home with you after your latest visit. mmm
Pain is not like this. It is worse the second time around. I am not talking about being hurt by your sixth grade crush and then by another sorry boy in the ninth grade. I am talking about the pain that you thought you had gotten over. Then one sunny afternoon, you see a face in the crowd that looks like him, and your heart sinks. Or you walk into your elderly neighbors house, and it smells like your grandpa’s house. You remember that he has been dead for 2 years. Sometimes, the re-warmed hurt comes in the form of anger that you never got the chance to express. Not that expressing it would have made it go away, but you were denied that right and it still burns.
This kind of pain may be the hardest because somewhere inside, you know you shouldn’t still feel this way. You thought you were over it. You were convinced that you had a handle on the situation and it/he/they didn’t control you anymore. And realizing that it/he/they can still ruin your day is infuriating and defeating.
Can we ever really be free from left-over, rewarmed hurt? Can we completely surrender it to God, trust Him to take it, and expect that Satan will never get his hands on it again?