Tag Archives: Life Matters

No Healing Without Pain

There is no healing without first acknowledging the pain.

Pain does serve a purpose, but with our human eyes and mindset, we have limited vision.

We’re unable to see past the physical, the natural, the feasible. Unable to understand the “why.”

Why did “x” happen?

Why didn’t “x” happen?

Why are things this way?

Why do I keep making mistakes?

Why did I have to go through that?

Why isn’t God changing things sooner?

Why, why, why?

On our own, we cannot understand. On our own, we cannot have peace with these struggles. In fact, we may never really understand.

Maybe it’s just me, but I think perhaps we feel that if we understood, we would then feel that we had more control. Perhaps we sometimes seek understanding or answers in order to assess whether we think our situation is logical or justified.

Does the situation “make sense” to us?

Perhaps that means we don’t really trust that God will help us or work things out for us. We’re unhappy with His plan.

If you have felt this way, you are not alone. You are human.

Sometimes, things happen because we messed up. (Been there.) And sometimes, it’s because God is wanting to put something in us, work something greater in our lives, move things out of us that shouldn’t be there, or just teach us that He is sovereign and to trust His will.

Honestly? That’s often a difficult and painful process. It hurts. It’s uncomfortable.

Honestly, I never truly realized whenever you pray, “Lord, would make me more like you?” that it means you might have to go through some very painful things and feelings that Jesus also went through that make you more like Him. We think it just means we’re asking God to make us more kind and wise and loving and giving without any of the life experience and lessons that develop those traits within us.

Pain, rejection, betrayal, disappointment, loneliness, grief.

In one of my favorite verses in the Bible, Jesus was called a “man of sorrows.”

“He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.”

Isaiah 53:3 ESV

Contemplate for a second the meaning that verse carries. Right there in the middle of your grief and sorrow and pain and loneliness, Jesus sits next to you and says, “I know exactly how you feel.”

Jesus was rejected, endured overwhelming grief and pain, and even His disciples abandoned Him in His time of need.

He had asked them earlier, “Will you also go away?” And Peter said, “Where else would we go?” But then, even if for a moment, they left Him still when he was arrested and then crucified.

Jesus knows what it feels like to give and love and pour out and be met with betrayal and grief. When we experience these heavy emotions, that’s when we can truly have an intimate connection with God.

It’s in the middle of your grief that you can feel closer to Him than maybe you did in the happy times.

Pain cripples. The hurt wears us down. It’s an incredibly heavy burden to bear, especially when we pretend it isn’t really there. We mask it. We dismiss it. Tell ourselves get over it.

Grow up, walk it off, you’re fine.

Some tell us, “Get out of your emotions.”

Oh, if only people knew the detriment they cause when they give their callous, tone-deaf “advice” to people walking through desolate places that they’ve been blessed never to experience. Or maybe those people are not allowing themselves to heal either.

Those who understand what it’s like to experience pain and heal from it tell us, wisely, to surrender our burdens to God. This is much harder than it sounds when we want to pretend we have the control over it or when we can’t stop thinking about who or what caused the trauma.

But we have a finite emotional battery. We must rest. We can’t carry it all ourselves all the time, no matter how hard we try. God is the only one who is capable of carrying everything for us and never getting tired. And yet He also knows from His time on earth in human form what it’s like to feel weary and alone. He knows what that pain is like.

I’ve learned one can have a strange relationship with pain. You can feel it deeply, maybe more than others, and begrudgingly accept its seemingly constant presence, but you can refuse to ignore it or allow it to confine you. You can respect it for the purpose it serves.

See, pain teaches us about ourselves. Pain tells us, hey, there’s a wound here. There’s something that needs tended to, a hurt that needs treatment.

Pain can bring things to our attention that we didn’t even know were there.

There is no healing without first acknowledging the pain. From there, we can embrace the Healer and the one who takes all pain. But it takes time.

Healing doesn’t happen overnight.

Let yourself acknowledge the pain. It’s okay if you’re in the acknowledgment phase of healing for a while. Don’t rush it.

Bring it to God. Talk to a trusted friend or mentor. Go to therapy. Do something relaxing that you really enjoy. Find worship songs that speak to your situation and meditate on Scripture. Let God do a work in you in the healing.

Sometimes we have to slow down. Pause. Reflect.

Breathe, pray, and repeat.

The Things That Matter

People say a lot of things. Things that hurt. Things that are true. Things that hurt because they’re true. But people also say a lot of things to minimize you, denigrate you, vilify you.

Kids can be cruel, and adults can be mean, and the things they say to put us down shouldn’t matter to us. But sometimes, we let those things that don’t matter at all matter a little too much until they eat away at our confidence, our strength, our joy, our ability to get out of bed every morning and live a purposeful life for our Creator.

It’s hard to forget the things they say. And sometimes, it’s hard to remember the things that matter.

These are the things they say:

You’re not smart enough for that job. Don’t bother applying to work at that place. Aren’t you too young to preach a sermon? You don’t dress very well. Your clothes are ugly. You’re not very pretty. There’s no way you’re that old. You’re way too short. You’re so tall, you look like a clumsy tree. You don’t have enough money. You didn’t go to a very good school. God will never use you. You’re not a very good person, and you’ve done terrible things. You can’t sing. You’re not a very good musician. You’re too skinny. You’re too fat. You’re too loud. It’s really annoying. You’re too quiet. It’s a little snobbish. You’ll never really amount to anything. Your family problems don’t matter. Your dreams don’t matter. Your thoughts don’t matter. You don’t matter.

These are the things God says:

But you matter to Me. I care about your thoughts. Lay your burdens down at My feet. There’s rest for you in My Presence. I can give you all you need. I saw you on the Cross when I died just for you. I knew all you’d have to go through, and I made you for this exact moment in time. You’re not too quiet or too loud for Me. I hear every prayer you whisper at night. I see you struggle and fight and fall and cry. I’ll be the Strength you need to stand taller than your mountain, the Arms to carry you when you’re too weak to climb. You don’t need the world’s fame or fortune to impress Me. Your song is beautiful. You can do all things when you give it all to Me.

I gave everything so that you could have everything in Me. Joy for every morning. Strength through every struggle. Comfort in every night. Eternal life. I love to hear your voice calling My Name. I long for you to be in Heaven with Me so you can see Me face-to-face, so you can see the face of the One Who came and died for you, Who gave you life. I’ve covered all your mistakes with My blood. You see, you’re more than a servant to Me. You’re my child. And you were worth it all. Every nail, every thorn, all the jeers, all the hate, all the scorn. And if you could only see how much I love you, then you’d know all the things in life that don’t matter and all the things that do.

These are the things that matter:

Your life. Your dreams. Your work for Jesus. Your walk with Him. The salvation of your friends. That time you sang that worship song, all loud and strong, and you thought no one was listening, but God heard every word, and it gave Him joy. That time you cried all night, got up the next morning, and went to work, and got to church later, and even though no one knew what you were going through, you praised God unashamedly. The smiles on your family’s faces when you’re together after time away. The time you spend reading the Word, seeking some direction, seeking Him more. When you tell God, over and over again, that you don’t understand, that you don’t know why bad things are happening, that you’re tired, that you’re sad, but you keep serving Him and giving Him praise because you remember. You remember that no matter what happens, you understand all the things that matter after all.

That the things they say and the negative things you think about yourself

are all the things that don’t matter.

And that Jesus, your family, your church, and you

are all the things that do.