Throughout our lives we endure many different seasons.
Seasons of rejoicing and seasons of mourning. Seasons of adventure and triumph; seasons of stuckness and suffering. And as we walk through some of the more difficult seasons in our lives, we often find ourselves questioning our purpose, our identity, our faith in increasing measure. We come face-to-face with the doubts and thoughts that have always lingered in the background of our minds but are now demanding our attention; confronting us in real time during life's challenges.
We begin wondering things like:
“Am I being punished?”
“Is this happening because of sin in my life?”
“Is my lack of healing or rescue due to a lack of faith?”
Some days we question whether God hears us, whether He is even listening, whether he cares or if we've just truly been abandoned. Whether He even exists in the first place because maybe He's just a figment of our imagination. Maybe He's something humans manufactured out of a desperation for answers and comfort. And maybe that's why everything hurts and there's no relief. Maybe He just isn't there.
Somewhere inside of our hearts, we know that none of those things are true. It's part of the reason we never give any of those thoughts much attention. We know there is plenty of evidence of God's existence and handiwork. We know He's a healer and we know He is good.
Sometimes though (let me hop off this train for a second and just acknowledge the other reason we don't deal with these thoughts and doubts) we push these worries to the back of our minds because we are afraid if we dig too deep, we'll discover that God isn't really who He claims to be. We worry that if we dig too deep we'll find out that our faith is baseless and pointless. But that's also a house of lies because God invites us to dig deeply into who He is. He literally wrote an entire book about Himself so that we would have the opportunity to get to know Him truly and understand His character fully. He is not a God of secrets, He's not hiding from us and that's a great comfort in the presence of those fears and worries about how far we dig. God invites us into His presence everyday. He is open and transparent in ways we can't even fully comprehend and He loves us enough to give us that complete access. We may not know everything because not everything is for us to know but rest assured: As I said in one of my previous posts "A Christian with doubts?", God is not afraid of your questions and doubts. There is no depth you could dig to that would uproot who He is for you because He is all He claims to be and more. (But let's get back on track now, shall we?)
Intrinsically, we know that God is still with us whether we feel Him there or not. We know that He doesn’t will our suffering but even-so, we often let the uncertainty of our situations leech uncertainty into our relationship with God.
And sometimes weeding through the lies can be as easy as focusing our eyes on God’s word and the truth therein but there are some lies that are far more difficult to pull apart then others. Because some lies are wrapped around very real fears and anxieties that we have regarding our season and situation.
Like, ”What if this is my life for the rest of my life, all this dysfunction and pain?”
“What if this is the best I’ll get?”
“What if it’s God’s will for me to suffer through this?”
These are all questions I have asked in my suffering, these are all lies I’ve heard before and to a healthy person who's in a happy season of life, the resolution may seem simple. To someone that is not chronically ill and has not experienced chronic pain and illness, the way to combat these lies may seem as easy as more time spent with God and more prayer. Not to discount those very effective and important things but for the suffering person, we know it’s not that easy because the way of suffering is one of tension.
We exist in tension.
Tension that continues to exist no matter how much time we spend with God.
The tension between who we once were and who we are now.
The tension between who we are now and what will become of us.
The tensions where we are at and where we want to be.
The tension between life and death can be a daily experience for someone who is chronically ill.
The tension between sickness and healing.
The tension between who we have had to become in our suffering and who we want to be.
The tension between who we are and who God has called us to be.
The tension between our reality and the promises of God.
The tension between the cross and the resurrection. Or maybe, more aptly, the tension between the garden of gethsemane and the tomb.
Because personally, when I think about my situation, I feel what Jesus felt in that garden when He was sweating blood and I feel the pain of the cross and the hopelessness of the tomb.
I know, for so many Christians, the tomb symbolizes hope because we always see the stone rolled away and the empty cavern on Easter Sunday but in order for that tomb to become the symbol of hope we love, it first had to be what it was: a symbol of death and the end; a symbol of hopelessness and abandonment.
I feel the tension between the pain and suffering I have had to endure and the promise of salvation and rescue and hope on the other side. For Jesus it was an intense three days but for a lot of us it has been years. That’s not to say our suffering surpasses that of Christ’s but to point out the familiar in what Jesus endured. Since the day He was born Jesus knew He came so that He could die for us and for the few decades that He walked the earth, He existed between the pull of where He was and the pull of what He came for. Perhaps, it was in the garden where it really hit Him, where the tension snapped and His suffering became a choking grasping reality He couldn’t escape.
I think in Jesus we find the greatest example of the tension those of us who are chronically ill or chronically suffering endure and if you really look at His story you will see many of the same questions and struggles we battle everyday.
“Must I endure this suffering?” “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me” Jesus asked of His father in the garden. “Your will not mine be done” He declared while sweating blood. “My soul is grieved to the point of death” He wept. “My God, My God, why have you abandoned me!” He cried while He was nailed to the cross, while He was in the midst of His suffering.
And then there was silence.
There was tension for three whole days.
There was a dead God-man in a tomb; for three days there was an end. There was grief and sorrow because the messiah who was meant to save the world was murdered before He ever got the chance (or so it seemed). I’m sure that’s how the disciples must’ve felt. I know I would’ve been heartbroken, not just about the loss of Christ but the loss of the salvation and redemption for the world that He was meant to bring. Though they had been told, they didn’t know He was going to rise on the third day, their hope of relationship and fellowship with God was gone and they were left in uncertainty with His teachings and the memory of His presence but probably confused about where to go from there.
And this is the place where those who are suffering often exist, in the tension of what was, what is and what could be but isn’t yet happening. And there’s a lot of uncertainty and confusion and doubt that comes with that.
Some days are better than others but some days are pretty awful. There are days when fear and hopelessness choke the life out of everything and the feeling of being trapped in your situation or your unhealthy body is overwhelming. Some days I think “If I just muster enough faith and go for a run down the block maybe the sickness will just fall off, like dust clinging to my clothes” “if I just push myself enough” “if I just believe hard enough” “if I just pray hard enough, maybe I can escape this tension and move forward”. To me it almost feels like what I imagine a gnat must feel like in a glue trap, you’re stuck, you’re not strong enough to get yourself out but you are still trying to figure out a way to push through and get yourself out anyways. Struggling and pushing, knowing you may never get out and this might just be the end of you.
(Weird analogy, I know)
It’s difficult, this journey so many of us are on, and like Big things in life often do, it will effect your relationship with God and that’s okay. I know it doesn’t feel okay, I know the distance between you and God seems wide and lethal at times but it is just a feeling, not a fact. Something I constantly have to remind myself of. It’s okay if you feel your relationship changing a little bit because in order for it to grow, it has to. That’s all apart of the process.
Personally, I’ve had such a hard time embracing the truth of “process” because I like the extremes. I think I’m a beginning and end kind of person. I enjoy the assurance of being on one side of the fence or the other, I don’t like tension, I don’t like gray area, I don’t like being in the middle. I can enjoy the journey but I like to know how it began and that it’s going somewhere. But I’m learning that “process” is a state of being too. I’m learning that the middle can be a place, not just a stop on the way. I’m learning the importance of embracing where I’m at even when it’s uncomfortable, knowing that it’s okay to be uncomfortable sometimes. It’s okay to be uncertain and let yourself feel it for a little bit. Jesus was dead, the people of Israel who had been long awaiting His arrival felt that, His disciples felt that. It wasn’t some great supernatural illusion, He was actually dead and that tomb was silent. We know the importance of that silence because it is what brought significance to the life that came after it.
The tension is important not just because of what God can do in it, the way He grows us and teaches us and comforts us, but also because of what comes after it.
The garden wasn’t the end. The cross wasn’t either. The tomb wasn’t the end and neither was the resurrection.
My sickness is not the end. My suffering isn’t either. My uncertainty and My pain doesn’t have the last word. My healing won’t be the end. And if I died tomorrow that still wouldn’t be the end. Tension is never the end, tension signals there is still more yet to come.
The truth is, there is no such thing as “the end” with God anymore because Jesus ended “the end”. He changed the final page of our story to “and THEY LIVED happily ever after”. What was our end became our beginning and as I look at my life right now I see the potential for so many new beginnings. So many new and incredible things God is doing in me and so many things He will be able to do through me when this is all over. And I believe it will be over soon because, while tension is important and the middle is a place, it is only temporary.
We live in temporary and that is why we feel pulled and split apart and stuck because we exist in impermanence, in a fluid state.
We exist in the uneasiness of transition but not quite transformation.
A season of waiting we didn’t prepare for or ask for.
A time of patience and stillness that feels, at times, like the long stretch of a final goodbye.
A painful stretch that can sometimes be overwhelming and consuming and often feels beyond our capacity to withstand.
But it’s only temporary, that’s a truth you probably don’t hear very often but it is the truth.
Storms don’t last forever.
And I mean, what a wasted opportunity it would be for me to not point out that you also serve a God who speaks to the wind and the waves and they obey Him.
So while temporary is the nature of tension, you do also serve a God who crossed every line to get to you, a God who would never let a little bit of tension or uncertainty stand between Him and the Love of His life or between you and your destiny.
Your destiny is greater than your suffering.
Your destiny is greater than the tension.
I’ll leave you with one last thought, or rather a mantra I often have to recite to myself (and probably need to practice reciting out loud more often) when I’m struggling to remember the truth.
When I come home from a disappointing doctors appointment, when I’m frustrated by the many lives moving forward around me and without me, when I’m grieved by my inability to live life to its fullest and be the person I so desperately want to be. I confess...
“This is temporary, this is a victory biding it’s time and there are new beginnings all around me to remind me that this too shall pass. And when it’s done, when this over, what was stolen from me will be restored to me a hundred times over and there is no end to the havoc my God and I will wreak on the kingdom of darkness when that day comes. You foolish adversary, your fate is sealed.”
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