You’re in a lot of pain right now. It may be physical, emotional, psychological, spiritual, I don’t know. Whatever it is, you’re hurting. You’re crying out to God and there seems to be no answer. Why is He letting you suffer? Why isn’t He answering? Haven’t you confessed everything? Haven’t you asked over and over again what He’s trying to teach you? You want to bang your fists on the floor and wail at the deaf God of this universe because all you want is His answer, His relief. But there is nothing.
I know. I’m going through a storm too. I am watching my grandmother contort in pain while I pray and seek with no visible answer. She’s still in pain. In fact, I spent the night at her house last night because of that immobilizing pain. I’m asking God to heal my mom too, but she still isn’t the woman she used to be. And I also don’t understand. I don’t understand why Jesus, who healed thousands of ailing people when He was physically here on earth, won’t heal them.
I got angry at God too. I yelled at Him in my head, so incredibly angry that our Creator wasn’t doing anything to help my family when we have done so much for Him. I was so frustrated, so confused. I wanted to be marooned on an island so that at least my time could be my own again. At least I could write in peace and wake up whenever I wanted, instead of going to the ER twice in one weekend.
But here’s the incredible thing. God has never been more real to me than when I was driving my grandmother to the hospital for the second time in one weekend. He’s real all the time, but He felt so close then. So if God is breaking you right now, don’t forget that He is so close. Even if you can’t feel His presence, I assure you that He’s there.
And as God was breaking me, I began to learn. I don’t know what He’s trying to teach you, but I know that He was teaching me selflessness and what it means to lose your life to gain it. My definition of ‘life’ this summer was helping out around the house and writing until my grandmother’s health faltered so dramatically. Now, I am learning to regularly lay my life and time down in front of God’s throne, asking what He wants me to do today even if I don’t want to do it. I don’t think I ever would have learned that had He not broken me with this terrible situation first. So don’t give up. The most amazing lessons come through trials like ours.
Somehow, He’s teaching me how to worship too. At church on Sunday, I praised God through song for being my strong tower, my shield, my strength, my Healer. Even if He hasn’t healed my grandmother or mom yet, I was able to praise Him because He is still holy. Ironically, He is the only reason I continue to survive. Although He isn’t answering how I want, He has also been my crutch, my encourager, my hope. I don’t know how to explain it to you, you who are also suffering in unimaginable ways, but I am closer to Him. It doesn’t seem like He’s answering and He’s definitely not healing, but I need Him now more than ever. We cannot give up on Him.
But He’s not answering! He may be teaching you, writer I have never met, all these incredible things, but He hasn’t taught me anything. He is nothing but silent.
It felt like that at first for me too. And the only way you’re going to find the lesson is to look for it. So peel back your hurt and misunderstanding as much as you can, and go to the Bible. Look at His miracles, His faithfulness to past generations, His fulfillment of prophecy, His love, His care. He has never stopped listening, so talk. Share your hurt, share everything, no matter what you think of God or what He’s doing. Lay everything before Him, absolutely everything, and ask for the lesson. Come before Him every day, multiple times a day, and seek Him. Seek Him with the reckless abandon of someone who has nothing left to lose because you really have nothing left to lose. It won’t hurt to pursue this God you don’t understand. It never hurts, even if you’re hurting now because of what seems like His inaction.
He is acting, you just can’t see it. But if you look for the lesson, you will find something. He wants to teach us through these mysterious ways, even if these mysterious ways feel awful. It hurts, I know. I have been hurt. I have been confused. But the only thing we can do as finite beings is to come to our infinite God every day with humble hearts and seek. He is breaking us for a purpose, just as artisans break ceramic plates to make into a mosaic. Was it a perfectly good plate? Yes. If the plate could talk, would is express pain? Yes. But once the artisan finishes crafting according to his plan, isn’t the result, a breathtaking mosaic, much more beautiful than a nice plate?
