Purpose in the Pain

  A few weeks ago my friend (who is also our worship pastor) asked me to write a short paragraph about promises God revealed to me during a season of pain. I feel like God is asking me to blog about it more in detail. I'll begin with the paragraph I wrote:

   Last year was a painful season in my life but from it came so much growth. One of the moments that stands out to me most happened one night while I was outside shoveling snow. I felt like God wasn't answering me because nothing seemed to be getting easier. In fact, things kept getting worse. I angrily just started pouring out to God all the questions of why and telling Him how much I hated this season I was in. I did this until nothing but tears were left to pour out. I stood in the quiet of that winter night and looked over at the tree in our yard. Every single branch was iced over and the glow from street light made it look like crystal. It was so beautiful. I heard God speak the words "my ways are not your ways". He spoke this to me several times during this season, but this time it really hit me. If He could create this beautiful masterpiece from the sting of a winter's storm, then He will make something beautiful out of the ruins of my life. You can't experience restoration without first experiencing pain. Though pain is uncomfortable it can be a useful tool in God's molding process. He can use it to better us if we allow Him to.

   After this experience I again read the passage in Isaiah 55, like I had many times before. But this time I really took the time to pay attention. The first part reads:

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

    neither are your ways my ways,”

declares the Lord.

“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways  and my thoughts than your thoughts." - Isaiah 55:8 & 9

But it was more than that. God was speaking directly to my pain and promising me restoration. 

Isaiah 55:10-13

As the rain and the snow

    come down from heaven,

and do not return to it

    without watering the earth

and making it bud and flourish,

    so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,

so is my word that goes out from my mouth:

    It will not return to me empty,

but will accomplish what I desire

    and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. 

You will go out in joy

    and be led forth in peace;

the mountains and hills

    will burst into song before you,

and all the trees of the field

    will clap their hands.

Instead of the thornbush will grow the juniper,

and instead of the briers the myrtle will grow.

This will be for the Lord's renown,

for an everlasting sign,

that will endure forever. 

   Very specifically, when we surrender to the Lord, He gives our pain a purpose. Just like He created a beautiful scene from the remnants of a storm. He is like carpenter who is careful not to waste material and is skillful with every single detail. If you hand it to Him, He can use it in a new and beautiful way. That night the Lord spoke to me He was promising to bring restoration to me and to my family and He has kept that word. It doesn't always look exactly how we assume it will, but it's always the right amount at the right time. Restoration is a process, and it's always changing. Some days it's more abrasive like sandpaper on wood, but it's a necessary step to smooth out the surface and prepares it for the next step. Other days it's like a refreshing drink of cold water on a hot day, it brings relief and nourishes the soul. 

   Often times I found myself so completely overwhelmed with grief and exhaustion of all kinds and it was those moments where I was trying to do it on my own. I felt such a strong sense of wanting to fix everything for everybody. When we try to do it on our own we are constantly sifting through ash and rubble to find a way to fix things as they were. We find all the broken pieces and tirelessly try and put them back together only to see them fall apart all over again. Nothing in my life felt familiar and that was the scariest part.  But I learned the more brokenness I let go of, the more pain I laid at His feet, the more my ground was solidified. It was okay to not be okay. It was not my job to make everything feel okay for everybody. It was those moments when I realized I couldn't change the loss we encountered with my sister in law's passing. I couldn't change the fact that my mother in law was battling cancer, or the fact that my dad was seriously ill. But what I could do was take myself out of God's shoes. When I took the "I" out of my circumstance, it allowed GOD to take over. It allowed Him to speak. It allowed Him to move. The more my ground solidified the more the Lord was able to rebuild. He is still rebuilding. Those broken pieces are part of my story, but they're not the center. Just like the tree in my yard remains a tree no matter if it's covered in leaves, ice or just barren.. So God remains God no matter what our circumstances are. 

  

    We can confess with our mouths till we are blue in the face that God is who He says He is, but the understanding of what that means comes when we out it in to practice. We need to let God be God for His ways are truly greater. Allow Him to bring beauty out of your brokenness.