When Pain is All You Can Think About

Sometimes we live in darkness. We suffer and it’s hard. We mentally accept God’s grace and His love for us, but in our heart we remain untouched. Pain saturates everything it seems. We seem to go through the motions, but deep down we’re convinced that we’ll never find the light that so many claim to have.

Since I have a disability I realize I learn things others won’t grasp. I’m learning to embrace the waves that push me to the rock–the Rock of ages. I suppose when I meet Him I’ll understand why it had to be so.

My hope is real. Heaven is home. My pain will be healed.

There is a language of heaven spoken, and those who have suffered speak a dialect of that. Just as someone from Georgia communicates English, their dialect is obvious. The same for those who live in pain. We speak the same, but differently.

Pain sometimes saturates our lives.

We live with something that is persistent, and our hope is a day when it’s all over. Psalm 88 becomes our Psalm. Nothing here is sugar-coated. It is raw and unabridged. It puts our pain under a microscope. That Psalm is entirely yours.

Psalm 88:3-4

Charles Spurgeon

Finding the Light

“Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death, so that we would not trust in ourselves but in God who raises the dead.”

2 Corinthians 1:9

To be chronically ill often means living with awful frustration. We can’t do what we want, we are ‘trapped’ by a disease we never asked for, and we’re held hostage by our minds and bodies. We once had a job– a career… and our time was occupied by that. Suddenly our lives are turned upside down.

We wanted something else, anything more than being very sick.

I once was a pastor of a small church here in Alaska. I also taught Gospels, several years in a local Bible Institute. I loved ministry very much. They defined my identity and gave me purpose. I enjoyed helping people and teaching the Word. I endeavored to be faithful in the ministry. And I hope I did.

With the sudden onset of a brain tumor, followed up by a diagnosis of severe depression, my life more or less exploded. I had extensive memory loss. I knew I had to step out of the ministry. I simply could not function. It was a hard thing to leave it behind. (And I still miss it.)

My depression grew even more profound with the stillborn death of our third child just 3 days before her delivery. Things suddenly ground to a standstill as my wife and I tried to process all of this. I guess I just couldn’t understand and more or less just shut down. I was angry at God. I spent months in bed, unable to function.

Some people were true jewels.

Others were more or less mean and uncaring. (I quickly learned how to take the good with the bad.) I suppose I should have understood, but things were so tangled up inside me that I couldn’t verbalize a thing. But God knew all about me. He loved and never judged.

The post-op recovery following the tumor was an ordeal, as I had to learn many things all over again. A few years later I ended up on disability; I was unable to work, and my symptoms were so unpredictable. I dealt with profound depression and a solid dose of paranoia and fear.

I learned that meds can help, but they can’t fix the problem.

Sometimes the isolation seemed worse than the pain. We wonder why this is happening to us, and we hear lies about our worthiness or God’s goodness. Our value to others seems to be scuttled by our illness. We can feel cursed, forgotten, crippled by God, or even worse. (Maybe even irrevocably lost?)

Satan craves our spiritual destruction, and he snares unsteady souls.

I admit I have been slow to learn this– but God brings good things out of the dark. I’m embarrassed by my personal lack of acquiring all of this. Now I’m starting to learn finally, and I want His words to reflect these truths.

“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”

2 Corinthians 4:7

This light will shine, and the treasure is found in clay vessels. Brokenness only means the treasure is now seen clearly. It’s important to note–jewels lose none of their value by being surrounded by broken clay. Our weaknesses are being turned into goodness, understanding, and love for our brothers and sisters.

Troubles of many varieties will pay us a visit. Count on it.

No matter what their nature, God holds his people in place while everything else is falling apart. But for the broken believer, there is another dimension; we will finally triumph. The tragedies we’ve had to endure only supplement our faith. We will stand– because He makes us stand.

“We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed.”

2 Corinthians 4:8-9

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