Hard Over Hurt

February 21, 2021

This morning I listened to a sermon that shed new insight upon Jesus’ parable of the Sower. I love it when that happens! As a refresher, the parable highlights four kinds of soil the sower encountered: the path, shallow soil, soil overgrown with weeds, and good soil. He compares each type of soil with how different people receive the Word of God. Four lessons stood out for me. The next few days will focus on these lessons.

Hard soil often comes from pain. Sometimes those who are most resistant to the Gospel have great pain in their lives. They cannot understand why they have had to suffer so, and often their pain comes out as a hard, crusty exterior that is their defense against being hurt again. We tend to see only the resistance, and not the pain, which prevents us from dealing with the real issue.

Some years ago, I a friend encouraged me to befriend someone on Facebook who liked to talk philosophy and religion. I did so, and this person began commenting on my posts, usually negatively. I enjoyed the repartee; being challenged is the only way we grow in our thinking and reasoning ability. Over time however, he became verbally abusive, not only to me, which didn’t bother me, but also to others who would chime in occasionally. One day, I posted something about raising children to know Christ. 

“Teaching children religion is a form of child abuse,” he exclaimed. When I countered by asking what made him an expert in childraising, since he had no children of his own, he came unglued. He raged venomously at me.

Turns out, he had been physically and sexually abused as a child. As a teenager, he started attending church, even making a profession of faith. Through all the years of abuse, his grandfather was his protector and model, and when he got sick, this young man prayed fervently for him. Grandpa died, and my Facebook nemesis turned his back on the God he believed had let him down. He wasn’t angry with me; he was angry with God. The pain of his childhood and the loss of his grandfather hardened his heart. 

Some of my friends who engaged him in online conversation did so with righteous indignation. They saw me being attacked and in spite of my pleadings to be gentle or even silent, came to my defense. They didn’t know the story, didn’t see the pain. 

When we are attacked, we instinctively try to defend ourselves, but sometimes no defense is the best defense. A wounded spirit is never healed with counterattack. Jesus spoke of himself as One who would not break a bruised reed (Matthew 12:20). The old adage is still true: “Hurt people hurt people.” Hurt people need healing, even when they present a hard, calloused demeanor. A callous is nothing more than a hard and thickened skin that protects a wound. Tonight, I am grateful for pastor Jason’s sermon and the reminder that hard is often just a covering of hard.