Archive for the ‘Pain’ Category
(a re-post…)
I can hear the tears before she speaks. Her words stumble out about pain and overwhelming circumstances and not knowing how to go on.
How do I respond to such a naked confession? I struggle to find the “right” words. I have not been through what she is experiencing.
Yet haven’t I? Don’t I know what it is like to struggle in pain? Questioned God how much longer? Haven’t I wondered how I could make it through ONE MORE DAY? Been soul-tired? Yes, I have.
Pain is pain and it comes in different packages but experienced just the same.
And what did I find just yesterday when it was me crying those tears?
I found God’s comfort. And what does God say is the purpose of his comfort?
“[He]… comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.”
God does not comfort me when I am struggling only so that I may feel better. He does it so that I can pass on the truth found in His comfort to those in need of the hope that is found in Christ.
I cant do this though without taking off the mask. So I drop the sinful pride enough to let her see some of my own hurting, my own doubts and the comfort God gave to me. I know my mess has a different name but its pain just the same.
I have to be honest that this is hard for me to do. To stand naked before others and show my hurt. I don’t want you to see the ugly in me. I am afraid to be vulnerable.
I don’t have a choice though. This gift He gives to me is not mine to keep. I have to share. I have to show you where I’ve been and what He’s done.
We are all broken people in need of God’s mercy and grace. I pray that God helps me not pretend otherwise. I humbly exhort you, even as I exhort myself: Show your mess and the comfort you found in it so that you may pass on God’s grace when you find someone traveling the same broken road you have.
* * * * *
Gifts from God this past month
204. card from friend in the mail
205. stranger in wheelchair calls out “May God protect you”
206. afternoon free
207. bird outside office window
208. hair cut!
209. flat tire disaster diverted
210. visit w/ aunt
211. uncle inquiring about God
212. last-minute trip to the beach with Prissy the dog
213. and laughing with friends
214. bunuelos
215. phone call from doctor’s office: test results negative
216. freedom
217. days off to study
218. breakfast brought by dad the day of test
219. calm for test
220. passed Social Work license exam!
221. texts and calls of congratulations
222. this text: “God is good all the time”
223. Uno! game
224. migraine gone
225. Friday at the beach
226. and waves knocking us down
227. sun and vitamin D
228. “Congrats” sign on office door from co-workers
229. new lens for my camera
230. rain for the brush fires
231. worship at church
232. clothes donated for the poor in Honduras
233. that I have much more than I need
234. ride to my car under heavy rain
235. emotion on friend’s voice when speaking of God
236. this cd playing in my car
237. this sermon blessed me
238. my dad
239. and the sacrifices he’s made for me
240. that he stayed
Speaking was only allowed in hush tones.
House chores where left for another day.
A trip was made by mother and children to the river before sunrise to dip their feet in.
It was all very somber and serious.
They were in mourning for the death of Jesus Christ on Friday.
This is how my mother and her siblings commemorated Good Friday in their home country of Cuba. No laughter or games allowed.
But on Sunday?
A visit to the neighbor’s house where pots and pans served as drums and shouts of joy from children proclaiming that He is alive!
~~~
If today was that first Good Friday, where the ground shook and my Savior breathed his last, I too would be in mourning.
But it’s not the first and I KNOW.
I know that He has risen
I know that Sunday is coming!
It’s Friday. Jesus is hanging on the cross, bloody and dying. But Sunday’s coming.
It’s Friday. The sky grows dark, the earth begins to tremble, and He who knew no sin became sin for us. Holy God who will not abide with sin pours out His wrath on that perfect sacrificial lamb who cries out, “My God, My God. Why hast thou forsaken me?” What a horrible cry. But Sunday’s coming.
It’s Friday. And at the moment of Jesus’ death, the veil of the Temple that separates sinful man from Holy God was torn from the top to the bottom because Sunday’s coming.
It’s Friday. Jesus is hanging on the cross, heaven is weeping and hell is partying. But that’s because it’s Friday, and they don’t know it, but Sunday’s a coming…….Tony Campolo
Some days in this life feel like that first Good Friday. We are overwhelmed with hardship and can’t see the end. Like the disciples and the women, having seen Jesus crucified, were in anguish because they did not know Sunday would bring resurrection.
His death means that Sunday is always coming! Whatever dark Friday of mourning or illness or disappointment I might find myself in; there is the promise of Sunday. And the promise of Sunday is that this is not all there is. That my suffering will end, perhaps in this life but certainly in the next. The promise is that there will be life again. That the story doesn’t end in death but goes on to resurrection.
This is the promise of the cross. Resurrection.
Resurrection from our physical deaths. From this present suffering. From the tears and pain and hurt.
And because I know that there is a Sunday coming, I can go through the Fridays of life with hope.
Its Friday…but Sunday’s comin!!!!
It’s a Monday not unlike others. A girl with downcast eyes and tells me what happened that weekend. She didn’t want to, he didn’t stop. After I’ve gotten home from helping her begin to sort through the aftermath of this violence, I fight to not allow the thoughts that are trying to surface. “Why did God…” I know there will be no answers, at least none easy to understand.
Soon after a friend shares with me her own suffering, and though I try to keep the word from being spoken, I ask them out loud to this person whose no stranger to them.
Why?
I ask it for me and for all the Monday-girls who’ve sat in my office.
The answer my friend gives surprises because it clicks and I have to sit for a while processing: “We are all collectively suffering the consequences of each other’s sins”. This makes sense to me. Illness, murder, war, poverty, abuse. This suffering we experience in life is in its core humanity suffering the consequences of choosing our way since the days of Eden.
————–
My mom tells me not to ask why but accept. I think though that God can handle my questions.
I realize that when days of trouble come, as they do for everyone, I need a solid faith built on God’s truths.
But what are those truths? What does God’s Word say about the suffering we experience?
This is where my questions have led me, to His Word. I have begun to delve into the Bible to hear from God.
In the end, questions or doubts that lead us to God are a good thing, don’t you think?
So I am here, quietly reading and asking. Hoping to share in this space what I learn.
God’s Blessings…
150. aunt showing off her post-chemo hair
151. laughing hard at the movies
152. family gathered
153. red shoes on sale!
154. Saturday shopping
155. my name written on the Book of Life
156. early appt canceled
157. slow Monday
158. Youth gathered to serve
159. Up on time!
160. watching “Dora” with S
161. Im worth more than many sparrows
162. group gathered sharing God’s faithfulness amidst trials
164. 8 kids in my Sunday School class
165. and their inquisitive minds
166. home early on Friday
167. her growing baby bump
168. and baby shower planning
169. that I was blind but now I see
170. aunt’s macaroni salad
171. chocolate molten lava cake
Dear Lost One,
Today you sat before me in tears and asked what the point of all this living was. The hate, selfishness, destruction is all you perceive and so see no hope. You tell me there is no God. You ask me to show you the good in people but I can tell my answers do not satisfy you.
Can I tell you?
You are right, there is so much ugly. But oh can you look closer and see there is beauty too? And that the beauty is proof of a very real God?
There is One who loves you and understands your disillusion; He’s disappointed with humanity too!
And so he sent Hope for you. He calls this Hope Jesus. In Him we can see beyond the death and destruction. We can see the good that shines among us through Him because we are his workmanship, created to be like Him.
If he is good (he is), if he is love (he is), then can we not expect to see some of that in his own creation?
I cannot give you any hope beyond what He gives. But it is more than enough:
—–That one day the ugly will stop and so will your tears and finally those who have believed will get to live in what we were created for: Perfect communion with our Creator in a land of full of life and everything beautiful. Until then we hold on to the hope of this one day and look out for glimpses of His beauty here on earth.
If you would open your heart, then you too can find Hope.
I can hear the tears before she speaks. Her words stumble out about pain and overwhelming circumstances and not knowing how to go on.
How do I respond to such a naked confession? I struggle to find the “right” words. I have not been where she finds herself.
But haven’t I? Don’t I know what it is like to struggle in pain? Questioned God how much longer? Haven’t I wondered how I could make it through ONE MORE DAY? Been soul-tired? I have, I have.
Pain is pain and it comes in different packages but experienced just the same.
What did I find just yesterday when it was me crying those tears?
I found God’s comfort. And what does God say is the purpose of his comfort?
“[He]… comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.”
God does not comfort me when I am struggling only so that I may feel better. He does it so that I can pass on the truth found in his comfort to those in need of the hope that is found in Christ.
I cannot do this though without taking off the mask. So I drop the sinful pride just enough to let her see some of my own hurting, my own doubts and the comfort God gave to me. I know my mess has a different name but its pain just the same.
Yet I must confess it is so hard for me to do this. To stand naked before my brothers and sisters and show my hurt. I don’t want you to see the ugly in me. I am afraid to be vulnerable.
I don’t have a choice though. This gift he gives to me is not mine to keep. I have to share. I have to show you where I’ve been and what he’s done.
We are all broken people in need of God’s mercy and grace. I pray that God helps me not pretend otherwise. I humbly exhort you, even as I exhort myself: Show your mess and the comfort you found in it so that you may pass on God’s grace when you find someone traveling the same broken road you have.
