Eczema came back. Weepy wounds also returned. I came out of the shower in pain.

I was reminded of those days I curled up in bed with towels, blankets, cloths and gauze covering the wet and weepy wounds. I remember pressing against those wounds in order to stop the weeping and bleeding, and how that pressure left marks on my arms and face when I woke up.

I remember the inflammation and the icing, the slapping on of Sudocrem, ru yi oil and whatever ointments that worked.

I remember being stressed when my CeraVe moisturiser couldn’t arrive in time for my Europe trip last year and not knowing what to do when Cetaphil moisturiser stopped working for me.

I remember how I had to bind up my own wounds. Eventually the gauze wouldn’t stay because I ripped them off with my clawing.

“Don’t scratch!”

What kind of involuntary self-destruction is this? If only the mind and body had equal discipline.

And when I couldn’t, He heard my cries and saw me as I am – physically and emotionally broken, oozing and weeping through the gauze. I remember begging God to let me sleep because eczema took my sleep away.

I came to know Jesus with the hope of being healed. But now, my perspective has changed.

I got so desperate that I went to 7-Eleven to buy a sleeping tonic. I took every single drowsy medication I knew so I could fully knock out and not claw myself and wake up bleeding.

Those were the days when the mornings brought defeat. Each step was a struggle because the back of my knees hurt. My arms were so scarred that they could not straighten.

In those moments of extreme pain I feared for my life when I had to bathe. I feared the pain so much I pondered over and over again if I should send myself to the A&E for pain management.

I wondered if the Crucifixion meant this level of pain, multiplied by a thousand. I wondered if Jesus could just bring me home right there and then.

To be honest, I came to know Jesus with the hope of being healed. But now, my perspective has changed.

Yes, ezcema affects my ability to function in life, but the worth of knowing Jesus changed what I thought I wanted and needed.

Now, I want to know Christ – to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his suffering, becoming like Him in His death (Philippians 3:10). 

Eczema may have taken a toll on my physical condition and appearance, but this pain has given me a taste of how Jesus might have felt in His death when He surrendered His pain and control wholly to God. Brokenness took away His dependence on Himself.

Even as I battle the physical pain from my open wounds, my reliance and comfort is Christ Himself alone. I carry the hope that I will know the power of His resurrection and He will take the pain and scars away. 

This broken body is not my home. I take comfort in knowing that my citizenship and home is not in this world, but in Heaven (Philippians 3:20-21). It gives me the assurance and promise that this pain is not forever.

Until then, the stripping of whatever pride and gains I have, and the death to self, will only grow my love and make me fully dependent on Him whom I have not seen. 

“And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God.” (Job 19:26)

I am encouraged to know that beyond the suffering, there is an indescribable gift awaiting in the moment: knowing Him more and more. 

I have experienced peace hydroxyzine cannot give. When my ability to bind up my weeping wounds ceased, He was and is there to bind up my wounds.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Psalm 147:3)

May I never forget this state of brokenness. May I never be strong enough to bind my own wounds.