When Healing Begins with Words We Cannot Say Ourselves

In the film Good Will Hunting, there is a scene that undoes you. Will Hunting, played by Matt Damon, is a young man of staggering intellect but deep brokenness — scarred by years of abuse he has never named aloud. His therapist, Sean Maguire, played by Robin Williams, sits across from him, holding Will's case file. He looks at this brilliant, wounded young man and says quietly, "It's not your fault."

Will shrugs it off. "Yeah, I know."

Sean says it again. "It's not your fault." Will deflects. Sean moves closer. "It's not your fault." Again. And again. Each time, Will's defenses crack a little more, until the wall finally collapses and he breaks down sobbing in Sean's arms — perhaps the first safe embrace he has ever known.

That is a portrait of how the Almighty heals. He does not perform surgery from a distance. He moves closer. He speaks truth into the places we have armored over for years. He says what we cannot say to ourselves — you are loved, you are forgiven, you are not what was done to you.

Psalm 147:3 tells us, "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." Notice the intimacy of that language. Binding a wound means You have to touch it.

Healing rarely begins with answers. It begins when Someone moves close enough to reach the place that hurts.