When I have the desire to write, it’s usually because I am struggling emotionally. A lot of the time, it’s poetry. When I write a poem, I don’t even have to think about it, it just pours out of me. But tonight, the desire isn’t to write a poem, but rather a desire to just pour out my heart before the cross. Sometimes I think I speak better through written words than with my voice. My writing, in a way, becomes my prayer and my heartfelt, desperate cry to the Lord. And to be honest, because I talk to my kids all day long, there are times, like tonight, when writing actually feels like rest for my soul, because I just have nothing left to say with my voice. So, with that all being said, the revelation on my heart tonight is this…
Suffering is inevitable, and no matter how hard I try to resist it, it will always be there, lurking. And yet, what is also inevitable is the very presence of my Creator, the One willing to suffer with me over and over again through this life after having suffered for me on the cross.
My family has been battling sickness since the end of January. I cannot tell you how used to someone being sick has become for me. When another fever comes, another nose starts dumping snot, an eye starts getting crusty, a chorus of coughs rings out, or body fluids are coming out of both ends simultaneously or back-to-back, I have simply come to say, “I’m not surprised.” Because that’s just how it’s been. I told my mom the other day, “Chicken Little could show up at my door and tell me the sky is falling and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised, let alone question how on earth I can understand a chicken speaking to me.” Call it insanity. Call it becoming numb to circumstance. Call it motherhood. Call it whatever you want. Someone else getting some sort of sickness just doesn’t floor me anymore.
Yet despite my lack of shock at someone catching another bug, the anxiety and stress of caring for sick children and having been sick myself has slowly but surely weakened my sense of emotional and mental stability. I am depleted. I am exhausted. I am weary and worn and begging God to relent on me and my family just an ounce. Can't we just be healthy? I ask. Then, in the very next breath I’m thanking Him that it’s only common illness that we’re dealing with because I know it could be worse. I try not to compare my suffering to others (let alone watch the news) because I know I, too, matter to the Lord. I know He cares about all His children and their needs. But sometimes that comparison just happens, and when it does, I feel guilty. When I unintentionally hear about the things going on in this world, I ask Him why the world has to be so broken and then cringe over the fact that I am asking Him to pay attention to me and my family’s need for healing. I think to myself, “surely God thinks less of me because I’m praying for my family and not as much for these other people who deserve more of His time and attention.”
But those thoughts, that guilt?... It's all lies. It's ridiculous the lies we believe about our God. Isn’t it? He is so explicitly clear in His word that He loves all His children. “For God so loved the WORLD that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16, emphasis added) While we, as humans, have created a hierarchy of suffering, God loves us and sees us all in whatever suffering we are experiencing. Why? Because Jesus Himself came to this world and lived as we do (except perfectly and sinlessly), experienced the suffering we experience to the point of death on the cross so that one day we’d leave all the pain and suffering behind to live with Him in eternal glory if we chose to believe in His sacrifice. He cared and loved us all that much.
So when I start spiraling over the fact that somewhere out there is a mother burying her baby, and I’m praying for my child’s snotty nose and fever to go away, I am trying to remember God is with us both. He is with the mother burying her child and He is with me as I care for mine who are alive. I don’t have to think that one day maybe God will choose to take my children or husband from me because up to this point my suffering hasn't been "that bad." If that is the kind of God I believe in then I should question why I’m even a Christian. Because who would willingly serve a God so cruel? No, thoughts like that are lies from hell and this is where the lies of the enemy seep in and seek to destroy my faith. Jesus says, “the thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life and have it to the full” (John 10:10). God is a God full of grace and mercy and love. He is the ultimate parent. And remembering that in the midst of suffering can change everything.
I’m learning that the best way to fight the enemy isn’t to argue with him or give him my attention, but rather turn back and stare into the eyes of Jesus. Why? Because Satan’s very goal is to pull me away from Jesus, to keep my eyes focused on the suffering so he can feed me lies about who God is, just like he did to Eve. So when I fight back by turning my back on him and staring directly at Jesus, Satan shrieks and shrinks.
Suffering is inevitable. But so is Gods supreme power and love. Jesus said, “I have told you these things so that in Me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Allowing myself to lean into the suffering sounds like succumbing to it in my OCD, anxious mind, but leaning into the suffering presents me with an opportunity to grow in Christ. Paul said, “Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:8-10).
My prayer tonight is that I will choose Jesus over the fear, anxiety, and what-if’s of my suffering. That I will choose the peace that only He can give, that I will surrender my life with open hands, bowing before Him, trusting that He will take my suffering and use it for my good and His glory. What a waste it would be of my life to not cling to the hem of His robe with the little bit of strength I have left. I pray the same for you who is reading this right now. Turn your eyes back to Jesus. He’s here with me. And He is there with you. Caring equally for us all, because that is the kind of loving, gracious, heavenly Father we serve.
And if by chance you haven’t surrendered your life over to Him, and you want to so you can experience the peace that only He can give, just ask Him for it. Believe in what He did on the cross. Believe that you are a sinner in need of a Savior, in need of redemption, and He will listen. He’s already with you. Just open the door and invite Him in. You have nothing to lose, and eternity to gain by doing so.
Goodnight, sweet friends.
Love,
Rachael
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