Pain has a surprising habit of crushing our hearts gloriously nearer to God Himself. And it is God who can take the impossible--especially the impossible!–and transform it into beauty while pressing His love and goodness deep into our chasm of heartache.
But we turn to despair so fast.
Surely pain is here because we are not good enough yet. Surely pain is here because God wants suffering for us. Surely pain is here because God is withholding His goodness from us, and we don’t know why.
Everything about these thoughts is incredibly wrong, and yet so easy to fall prey to. We grab hold of our pain and shape it against God and if it doesn’t quite fit our outline of Him, we take it back and yell at God WHY and believe His goodness is dependent on our definition of good.
But God never fits into our definition, and if He did? Well, we’d be scared out of our minds. We wouldn’t want to serve a God who could easily fit into our narrow-minded ideas. Read more
My life changed once I realized that everyone is dealing with chronic pain in some capacity. The chronic pain others face may not be physical, but it could be mental, emotional, spiritual, and so on. We are all chronically dealing with pain. What a strangely welcoming thought!
I soon realized I could transcribe my pain into all sorts of other pain. Yes, I couldn’t intimately understand what others were experiencing, but I could feel it on some level because of my own chronic difficulties.
Writing about chronic pain means the subject matter will be relate-able for anyone who’s lived any amount of life, because life is hard. Oh, but it is not hopeless. I believe the personal stories, experiences, and pieces of advice I blog will be ones you can transcribe into your own life.
Today, we start with laying a good foundation in order to uproot any of the lies we are currently believing about pain. Believing lies will always destroy more life than pain ever will. I’ve lived this reality, and I don’t want that for you.
I know you, because I am just like you. And I don’t care how different your life looks from mine or the diversity of our valleys. You are me. And I am you. In so many ways.
These words are for you.
It’s like the darkest place you’ve ever been, right? Like you could suffocate or be crushed in an instant. It’s like you’re walking in a hard place next to people who are rubbing salt in your wounds. Like the cold, impersonal floor knows your tears better than anyone else. It’s like questions that grab you and shake you and say, is God actually good? It’s like sitting in church and being unable to sing. Like you’re surrounded by fear on every side.
So yes, we know each other.
And I need you to hear this. Read more
She was wrapped in herself. It was comfortable and easy. It made sense and felt complacent, but then God called her to the desert. “Of course, I’ll go!”, her enthusiasm burst out still bound tight with expectation.
So she went walking forward with no idea at all. Deserts are big and wide and dry, and she found herself being chipped away. Blistered. Cracked. Split open. Empty spaces demand your attention and she got lost in all of them.
It took awhile, but white knuckle grasping on her life slowly became her hands stretched out receiving any and all God might give her. At first it felt like air, like nothing. Her hands were open and waiting for rain, but blistering sun was His response. That’s what she thought, anyway.