Welcome, welcome back to Saturday Musings pt. 2. Check out my first SM post in this series, where I chat briefly about why I thought I’d like to start writing these every week.
On Friday morning, I had the urge to take down my basket of old journals from years past.
In life, there will be times you walk through circumstances that cannot be grasped or taken into your control—the only way out is through.
Written in 2019, when I was at the ripe age of fifteen, I had given my future self some sound words. During that time, I struggled with serious depression and a lack of desire to continue living out the hardships I was facing at the time. It was one of the most lonely, bitter, and heartbreaking seasons I have ever faced. Even now, the Lord is healing wounds from all those years ago.
But I’m not here to write about my testimony, although God has done gracious works in my short life.
Instead, this little sentence from years ago, it acted like a lighthouse for me as I flipped through the past ages of my life, desiring so deeply to search out where God had been present in the past, knowing that it would spur me to believe He could be faithful in the present once more. I copied it into my new journal (Moleskine, of course—can never go back after being treated to such quality) of 2024.
Merciful suffering—
For the past five years, He has chased me down, and taught me the mercy suffering can be, if I have the open-heartedness to receive it.
I’ve had this pattern, a pattern I have carried with me for years, tracing back to childhood, where suffering is the ultimate enemy, and not to run from it was contrary to my nature. Quitting things when not done right—no, perfect—the first time; leaving friendships behind that caused me to think twice; quitting jobs that made me feel out of my level of expertise…this was my pattern. Don’t read me wrong: I think sometimes the bravest act a person can do for themselves and the people around them is quit. But I wasn’t a quitter for the right reasons. I was afraid to feel any circumstance that would trigger my pain tolerance, emotional or otherwise, and I refused to walk into deeper waters.
The all-famous Lewis quote comes to mind,
“…pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”
I could not have known the depth of Jesus Christ’s mercy if I did not know anguish. And I’d been running away from the very experience that would draw me deeper into the Father’s embrace. For that reason, there have been years of distance, bottled tears, intense anger, bitter disappointment, and resentment growing into a chaotic beast inside. A battering ram on the door of my heart that I’ve been unable to ignore any longer. At some point, all of us has or will go toe to toe with situations, tragedies, losses, that are absolutely absurdly out of our infuriatingly finite hands.
The dam burst.
The walls reduced to rubble.
The curtain torn, from top to bottom.
He had been tapping, tapping gently on the door to my heart. But no more. In my desolation, disillusionment, and bitterness, into my heart He flooded His hope, because there was no denying it. When the door was unlocked, yes, I have endured more pain than I’ve ever endured my whole life in such a short span, but praise be to God! I have been taken over by the ocean of grace that awaited me on the other side.
I was pacing between one side of the door and the other, with it fast shut, my soul floundering in the wasteland while on the other side an unknown sea raged.
There is something almost frightening about the compassion of Christ. To our limited human minds, we scarcely fathom it, and because we cannot grasp it, it is terrifying. But to the heart that is so burdened beyond bearing, nothing is sweeter than to cast oneself into the ocean of mercy and pray He will carry you to new shores.
Like Paul throwing himself overboard lest he be killed in the shipwreck, choosing to throw ourselves at the mercies of the Holy God we serve is a crossroads moment in the Christian life. Suffering is one of the avenues in which God brings us into this attitude.
Truly, there is one way, and that is through.
In order for any of us to make it through the darkness, to sail uncharted waters, is by accepting wholeheartedly the pain that is knocking on the door of our hearts and welcome it in. Denying it has never done anyone any good, and neither is being a victim to one’s circumstances.
When acceptance is my posture, victimhood cannot be. Victims have no hope, have given up. Acceptance of suffering and subsequently, accepting also the mercy of Christ, is grasping onto the one Person who is true: our Anchor of Hope.
Concerning this thing I pleaded with the Lord three times that it might depart from me. And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. - II Corinthians 12v8-9
Christ as healer.
As redeemer of broken situations and people.
As restorer.
As Savior.
Our suffering cannot be addressed if we run from the hardship that will always come. In this world, we will face trials. I have observed in these seasons, we have the option to cope rather than to be healed. ‘Coping’ is just another word for ‘running’, in God’s book. Coping with substance, numbing, willful ignorance, or taking a victim mentality prolongs, delays, or worse still, kills the chance of healing holistically.
Much of the anguish that comes with painful circumstance is a battle in the mind. Physical loss triggers emotional pain as we process (or choose not to process) what to make of our lives in the light of that tragedy.
Suffering ignored is simply suffering delayed. It will come back to bite you. The gnawing ache follows us.
But I am learning,
Aches are merciful shadowy beings that we must turn and face. When we do, we can but receive the waterfall of everlasting life that Christ offers as a balm for our souls.
Hanging by a thread, praying God’s grace to fill what I lack, is what has led me to experience suffering as a mercy in my life. It is no longer something to dread, but to turn and face, with Christ at my right hand, showering his compassion upon me like rain in a dry and bewildering wasteland.
I pray, pray earnestly, that I might not drink the cup that is upon me, that He may absolve me of this burden, but sometimes, the burden must be what is carried so that we have the opportunity to cast it at the foot of the Cross.
And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart. - Galatians 6v9