“Proud flesh,” is a term frequently associated with equine wounds, especially those occurring in joint areas, or other places where lots of movement interferes with complete healing. Granulation tissue, usually growing from the outside inward, overgrows its edges leaving a wound not fully healed, and prone to easy reinjury. I wonder at the proud flesh that may be lingering deep inside of me, places that I cannot see, yet that are poorly healed, easily reopened, hopefully not abcessing. Sure, these things are more easily addressed in one’s physical body, but what of one’s soul and spirit? Am I paying attention to wounds unhealed?
“Clang! Clang!” goes the trolley, as the masses rush in, grab hold, and stand like sardines stacked just so. In each breathing, rushing soul lies woundedness that is pushed deep into the recesses of hope-to-forget. All have learned early on that production is what is expected. For that you are paid; then you can eat; then you can afford shelter, clothing, transportation, meet your needs. Like automatons we rise, go, do, repeat, day in and day out, repeat, repeat, repeat. And yet, there is that something deep inside that just won’t go away. Proud flesh keeps growing. Our woundedness remains. And each time similar hurts poke at that spot, the wound is lanced again.
My father was a surgeon. He knew the intricacies of the physical body, fascinated with the incredible workings of all the systems together. He could go deep within a person’s frame to find, cut out, repair, and set towards restoration those wounding things that ail us. Still the healing went beyond his hands. Each person healed in their body’s miraculous way, and, in most, satisfactorily. Still some required additional help when their wounds refused to heal. The physician was needed again.
I think of God in this way when I consider those areas of proud flesh, unhealed emotional or spiritual wounds in me, especially those that have dogged me for years. He is my Physician who knows exactly where I need healing. Still, I must participate and yield to Him if I desire to become fully well. Otherwise, my poorly healed wounds remains just that – partially healed, but reopening again and again, seeping hurt into my being. Consider Psalms 51:6 (NKJV):
Behold, You desire truth in the inward parts,
And in the hidden part You will make me to know wisdom.
The more I submit to learning who God is, grow in relationship with Him, and yield to His ways, the more that proud flesh in me is healed. Isn’t it interesting that it is called “proud” flesh? For inevitably my problem is my pride. Am I willing to face the truth of what is really there? The parts that reveal where I have been wrong? Even way down deep in me a festering hurt may not be healed because I have refused to humble myself to forgive or seek forgiveness, to admit I do not have all the answers, to be willing to listen to God’s wisdom rather than the “wisdom” of a broken, hurting world. I know when the time is taken to think on these things with my Great Physician, much healing and relief can be achieved. It is worth the process, for His truth always sets me free! For some reason when the words “proud flesh” pop into my mind . . . methinks surgery is about to begin.
Dew Upon The Arbor 