words to a suffering me.

Lately I’ve been thinking back on where our family was a year ago.

We were living in the great In-Between. We had a calling, but the door to it was shut in our faces. We had a job, but it was stopped short, like running full force ahead and suddenly finding yourself reeling at the edge of a cliff. We had a home, but it was sitting empty, thousands of miles away.

And what stretched before us was a great blank.

 A year ago I was in the darkest season of my life. I was depressed. I was confused. I felt the silence of God bearing down on me like a thick cloud.

The days were long. The nights even longer, filled with questions. David and I were bone-weary of conversations about our “next step” but we didn’t know how to stop having them.

I’ve been thinking about all of it lately, giving thanks that the darkness has lifted, that the future is no longer a blank but is filled with people and color and a home and . . . hope.

And so now, while the experience is still fresh enough that I can feel the heart-heavy grief and taste the welling-up panic, I wanted to write a few words I’d say to that suffering me of a year ago.

1. God sees you.
He sees you. He hears your cries when you’re curled up in bed midday in a darkened room, when you’re driving in your car with tears flowing, when you’re applying a smile like make-up so people won’t see you cry in church. He seems silent, I know, but if you’re His child He will never, ever leave you.

Part of growing up in your faith is learning to embrace the mystery of God. He will not always do things like you think He should. He will not always explain Himself to you. Will You trust that He is big and strong and good and mysterious? Will you believe that he is making something beautiful of your life? Will you let Him be God?

2. It won’t always be this bad.
While we still lived overseas, struggling daily with my health and with the challenges of life so very far away, my pastor’s wife, Barb, said to me, “Julie, this isn’t going to last forever. You are going to look back on this season one day and be so thankful because it will be over.” Perhaps that sounds obvious, but her words gave me hope when I needed it. She was right. That season is over and so is the next one that in many ways was even worse. I’m sitting here, looking back, giving thanks for how far we’ve come. I’m giving thanks that it’s not so bad anymore.

3. God is giving you gifts every day.
When you’re neck-deep in the thick of it, all you have eyes for is the gift of deliverance. You spend your time hoping and praying and wrestling and trying with all your might to be rescued. But, as often as you can, stop. Stop wrestling. Stop waiting for the suffering to end so your real life can start.

Instead, open your eyes to the gifts that come before deliverance. God is taking care of you. His care takes many forms: a text from a friend, a sermon that speaks directly to your heart, a warm smile in the grocery store, an ability to respond in love instead of anger, an ability to admit you’re wrong, a cup of coffee with a loved one, a listening ear, a new pair of shoes, an exquisite sunset, movie night with your family.

If you keep your eyes open and take note, if you ask God, “Show me the gifts You’re giving me today,” He will answer. I promise.

4. One of the gifts, if you’re heart is open to receive it, is the gift of having to face the deep ugliness and the worst fears in your heart.
Warning: this is very difficult. There are the hard things that happen to you, and then there are the things pouring out of your heart as a result of the hard things. The anger, the self-pity, the bitterness. The burning questions you try to ignore: Is God punishing me? Am I a failure?, Am worth anything apart from what I do?, Will God keep loving me if I let everyone down? 

In the beginning, you don’t see this as a gift. In the beginning, being honest about the darkness and fear inside of you will cause more sleepless nights, not less. Being honest with your disappointment and anger with God will leave you feeling like the worst version of yourself. If you open your heart to the full depth of your pain it will hurt like hell.

But. If you go to these places, if you open the door to the Spirit’s gentle, insisting prodding, you will experience a healing that is deeper than you ever thought you needed. You will face your fears. You will learn that in Christ you have a quiet strength you never knew you possessed. You will be more free than you were before the suffering. And you will find great joy.

5.  This suffering is going to make you more like Jesus.
When a friend heard our story recently, he looked at us with compassion in his eyes and said, “You know what? The Lord disciplines those He loves.” Like a willful child after a spanking, I’ve always bucked against those words in the Bible. They sound so cold and harsh. Who wants to be disciplined? Not me. But as our friend spoke, like a light shining in a dark place, I saw that it’s true. God’s discipline wasn’t wasted. In love, it was used to humble us and free us and make us more dependent on Him. The Lord disciplines those He loves.

This is God’s promise to you over and over in the New Testament. There’s no short cut to sanctification. Even Jesus, who was without sin, had to suffer in order to learn obedience. And He’s true to His Word. There is something unique about hard times that do the messy work of maturing your faith.

In your suffering, you will learn that it’s okay to loosen your grasp, to let go a little more. You will learn that God stands by His promises. You’ll rejoice because you haven’t just heard that He is good — you’ve lived it.

And when the next season of suffering comes — because it will — you’ll find that you have a shred of hope that wasn’t there before. You’ll learn to not only ask, “Deliver me,” but to ask, “Make me free.” And when your friends face their own suffering, after you’ve listened and cried together, you will be able to look them in the eye with great compassion and say, with all the force of certainty in your voice, “God will take care of you. I know it. Let’s watch and see together.”