The Cure

Even eighteen months post-trauma (such a misleading label) I had a hole the circumference of a half-dollar on the side of my leg.  Internally my body had worked to heal lungs, kidney, spleen, and bladder.  It had grown a femur around the rod in my leg, regenerated bony matter in my wrist and fibula, and closed up fractures in my ribs and sternum.  
It had performed heroically. But the superficial wound to my calf was not a priority, so my body delegated efforts elsewhere.  
Emotional healing also comes with a built-in ranking, but it seems to work in reverse.  
It happens in layers, with the deeper wounds being exposed as time passes.  We would not have the courage to face the damage all at once; it is mercy that our brains limit the awareness and focus to one strata at a time.  How amazing that our fearfully and wonderfully made selves select what our minds process in order of survival, so that the vital functions are preserved.  Further down the road comes the work of healing the entirety of our psyche.

In physical and emotional rehabilitation, much takes place on a sort of auto-pilot.  Body and mind set their own pace of recovery, with health care professionals interjecting themselves when the timetable or path requires assistance.  
However, spiritual healing requires our full attention and cooperation.  Without introspection and purpose we feel easily satisfied that all is well and we are fine.  
Good, actually.  
Really doing well.  

In actuality, spiritual skin can appear unblemished while organs are failing.  Digging into the disease-laden muck lying below the surface is mortifying and painful, but it is vital.  And in ourselves we can neither see the need nor have we the ability to heal it.  The psalmist cried, "Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts!" 
C.S. Lewis once again provides a perfect illustration in his depiction of Eustace, whose inner corruption has finally manifest as the hide of a dragon, needing to have his scales ripped away in order to be brought to spiritual healing.

The very first tear he made was so deep and I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know – if you've ever picked the scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.

Faithfully throughout our lives God draws our attention to the next layer down.  And like Eustace, we begin to address what we see -- only to find God alone is able accomplish the deep healing. 
It would be nice, and fairly nearly true, to say that "from that time forth Eustace was a different boy." 
To be strictly accurate, he began to be a different boy...
The cure had begun.