On Pain and Purpose

For a person who absolutely loves words, it’s weird to be in a place where I don’t feel like I have the words to say. It’s like training to be an opera singer and then coming down with a chronic case of laryngitis. I want to get the words out, but when I try, they just won’t come.

When we first received Elizabeth’s diagnosis, fear and anxiety were constant companions. My heart would race. I researched and read every relevant medical journal I could find. I enlisted the prayers of strangers and friends. This was a problem and God was going to “fix” it. I was so certain of it.

Here I am several more months down the road and the heightened emotion of those early days has succumbed to a numbness, an emotional exhaustion of a sort. It’s hard to describe. While I still desperately long for my daughter to experience a miraculous healing, I’ve also come to accept that that may not be our story. That God may have a greater purpose in allowing us to endure this painful, uncertain path.

What I’ve learned over this last year is that while I have very little control over my situation I do have the ability to control my response. I can’t change the fact that my daughter has an incurable brain condition. I can’t change that fact that our future is literally a giant, gaping hole of the unknown, but I can choose how I respond to that situation.

Don’t get me wrong. It is NOT an easy choice. It is not the natural choice. I am very much tempted to give in to feelings of bitterness -to the heart-wrenching cry of “Why me? Why her? It’s not fair!” I could doubt the goodness of a God who allows pain and doesn’t answer every prayer for healing. I could feel jealous or deprived. I could accuse God of being unloving and unkind. I could do all of these things…but it wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t change my situation. If anything, it would make my days dark and desperate.

From a practical standpoint, drowning in my pain will only bring me more pain. It will cloud my relationships with others and with God. Seeds of bitterness often sprout roots of anger. When it’s full grown, anger and bitterness have the power to destroy all that they come in contact with. It casts a shadow over goodness and love and taints our view of the world with negativity.

So…I make the conscious choice on a daily basis, the difficult choice, to say to God that if this is the road you want us to take, then with your grace we’ll walk it. I’m just thankful he doesn’t turn us lose and expect us to walk it on our own. We may have fallen into a hole, but he is willing to sit right there in the midst of the mud and darkness with us.  We don’t have to pretend that the pain is pleasant. We can acknowledge that it hurts and that we don’t understand. We can be honest before God.

I’ve known Christ as my Savior for almost twenty-five years, but this year, I’ve been learning about what it means to have Christ as my Redeemer. Yes, he redeemed us from the penalty of our sins, but he is also the redeemer of broken things. The restorer of life. The one who can take broken pieces and turn them into something beautiful.

He can bring purpose from my pain…if I let him. If I’m willing to pry my fingers loose from the hurt that grips my heart. If I’m willing to offer up these broken dreams and shattered expectations and say “I trust you with this.”

I don’t know why God heals some and not others. I don’t know why some are never touched by disaster while others carry more than what seems fair, but if this is what He has chosen to entrust me with, then this is what I will use to bring God glory, knowing that he is a rewarder of those who serve him. In the grand scheme of time, a few troubled days on earth can’t compare to the riches of eternity.

If we truly believe that heaven is real and that God is a rewarder of those who earnestly seek him (Hebrews 11:6), then what do we have to lose? Why not admit that this was not what we had planned, but surrender it and allow God to redeem it in some way? I’m convinced that if God allows pain it is for a purpose. He doesn’t delight in our destruction. What could happen if you transformed your “Why me?” into “What now?” How can my story make a difference in another person’s life? How could God work in this situation for my good? (Romans 8:28)

I know that for me, my eyes have been opened to the world of the Special Needs Parent. I now understand the stresses and burdens that they carry. I know how I can pray for them specifically. I’ve learned how to minister to those going through a scary medical diagnosis. I can share my testimony of how God has made himself known to us in the midst of the unknown. I can talk about his provision and his presence. These are lessons I would have never learned had we not walked this path. My pain can provide a lifeline to someone else who is struggling.

There are no easy answers. There is no cliched “quick fix” that will make the situation better. I don’t mean to minimize the pain at all. It is so real…I may have broken into tears in public places on more than one occasion in the last week. It’s hard. It stinks. It’s not what I would have chosen.

But…my pain will not be wasted. My story will have the power to reach others in a way that happy endings seldom can. Pain can either destroy our lives or be used to give life to someone else. God has entrusted me with a story and equipped me with everything I need to walk down the path he has prepared for me.

He doesn’t drop you off in the desert and leave you to fend for yourself. He promises to never leave you nor forsake you. He promises to call to mind his words through the power of the Holy Spirit. He is our Great Redeemer, and while our future is still very uncertain, I’m confident that one day our story will have a happy ending…even if it’s not on this side of heaven.