Becoming a Steward of Your Pain

Some time ago I read a story that connected. A visiting speaker stood in front of a congregation and shared a painful incident from his childhood. He wanted to bring healing. After he spoke, an elder came up and spoke to him–

“You have learned how to become a proper steward of your pain.”

The visiting speaker was profoundly touched by this. Something came together in his heart and soul. Yes, he did learn how to deal with those ugly things from his past. And yes, he was starting to become a proper steward of his pain.

The word for steward in the original Greek is oikonomos. It literally means “a keeper of a home.” It describes a manager, or a superintendent to whom the head of the house or proprietor has entrusted the management of his affairs.

Managing these awful things for the Kingdom of God is now our ministry.

No question about it, we live in a world of darkness. Each of us has been touched by hard things. Scars are part of our lives. When we come to Christ they come with us. All of these grim things are a real piece of us; we have been hurt, or we’ve wounded others by our sinfulness.

Are you a good steward of who you are? Maybe it’s a trauma, a physical, sexual, or perhaps a mental illness. It’s a scar you carry from your past, and no one is immune from them it seems.

I believe that you’ll find freedom if you can use these things for Him and his Kingdom.

We must see and understand that Jesus has taken everything and fully redeems it all for His glory.

He understands us fully–our past, present, and future. He ‘knows’ us–the real and hidden us. The challenge is to take these sad events to the throne. He alone can heal and then use that which has devastated us. He uses our pain to touch others deeply.

But Jesus intervenes to save. As we grow to accept this, the Holy Spirit comes as our comforter and guide. He starts to teach us true redemption, and the incredible healing that takes place inside us.

It really is his work, not ours. It’s then we finally understand. It’s then we become the broken healers that God can finally use.

And it’s then we can finally say: “The light has truly overcome the dark.

Becoming a steward of our pain is His doing. We’re able to touch others with these things that cripple and destroy. He has made us “managers” of these things, and we are taught to teach others, declaring that God has completely saved us. He works miracles!

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has passed away, and see, the new has come!”

2 Corinthians 5:17

We’ll meet those who are waiting to hear our story. They’re walking through terrible pain and they don’t know what to do.

We’re being transformed into authentic witnesses. Yes, at times these awful things still hurt, and I suppose that’s to be expected. But we’re learning to manage them. We’ve become real-life stewards of our pain.

To every believer still struggling about the sin of the past or sickness of the present–keep turning it over to Him. He will make it into something quite wonderful.

When God Doesn’t Heal You

Mike Mason

God heals. Of that I have no doubt. We have many promises and see so much actual healing in Scripture. Jesus’ ministry would connect with hundreds of people who would be physically touched. The Lord would pass the baton on to His Church. We’re called to “lay hands on the sick,” (James 5:14-15).

But not everyone who is sick will receive physical healing. Even those who were active in ministry knew sickness.

In the second episode of season 3 of “The Chosen,” Little James, who we’ve seen walks with a limp, comes to Jesus after He commissions the Apostles. He tells him he finds it hard to believe that he will be healing people, given that Jesus hasn’t healed him.

“Do you want to be healed?” asks Jesus.

“Yes, of course,” James says, “if that’s possible. Why haven’t you?” he asks Jesus—again, a question some of us would’ve asked.

“Because I trust you,” Jesus says. “Little James. Precious Little James. I need you to listen to me very carefully, because what I am going to say defines your whole life to this point and will define the rest of your life. Do you understand?”

Jesus tells James that he will heal many people, and they will have a good story to tell.

“To know how to proclaim that you still praise God in spite of this—to know how to focus on all that matters, so much more than the body—to show people that you can be patient with your suffering here on Earth, because you know you’ll spend eternity with no suffering—not everyone can understand that. How many people do you think the Father and I trust this with? Not many.”

“But the others,” James says, “they are so much more … stronger, better at this.”

“James, I love you,” Jesus says, “but I don’t want to hear that ever again.”

“I know how easy it is to say the Psalm of David, that I am beautifully and wonderfully made, but it doesn’t make this any easier,” says James, begins to weep. “It doesn’t make me feel like any less of a burden.”

“When you pass from this earth,” Jesus says to James, “and you meet your Father in Heaven, where Isaiah promises you will leap like a deer, your reward will be great. So hold on a little longer. And when you discover yourself finding true strength because of your weakness, when you do great things in my Name in spite of this, the impact will last for generations. Do you understand?”

James cries, and says, “Yes. Thank you, Master.”

I believe that there are two truths that every Christian can count on. These are solid, and completely trustworthy. They are forever fixed and will never change.

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelation 21:4

     John Henry Newman  

Cutting a Rose (Death)

There’s been a death in my family. A young man just 24 years old passed a week ago. He was the only child of my aunt and uncle, and they are rightfully devastated. The whole thing is pain on steroids–as awful as it gets. Shock and grief is saturating our family.

We’re all asking why.

A young man who’s just learning how to live is gone. He was in the springtime of his life. His faith in Jesus was just beginning, and he was starting to sort things out, just like we all do. He is gone, but we’ll meet him again.

I wonder if the shock will ever wear off. I suppose it will, but it will come little by little. Jesus must have time to heal and hold in the meantime. He promised us.

I find my words to his mom and dad are nothing more than Teflon. They don’t stick, and maybe they even hurt.

Grief on this level defies words of human comfort and consolation. I am frustrated to counsel pain on this level. I’m ashamed when I do. I keep my mouth shut and that’s not easy for me.

There’s terrible guilt, anger and isolation.

The Holy Spirit is strongly emphasizing prayer now. I realize that only He can heal, guiding their suffering and healing to an outcome they can’t see. I know, I am certain that Jesus will come and touch his parents, but perhaps our intercession is what it will take to make this happen.

We must stand against Satan and push him away.

In the olden days, medicine was dispensed in powder form, not pills. The pharmacist would measure out a powder to give to the sick. In a sense, this is what God does. He carefully gives what is needed and not a grain more than necessary. I believe this.

Please don’t condemn yourself for speaking trite and inadequate words. You must rest in God’s work now, and realize that only He can heal and comfort pain and anger on this level. Job’s friends were at their best when they said nothing.

Sometimes all you can do is pray fervently. And that is enough.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Revelation 21:7

God Used My Trials


Trigger Warning: This post involves rape. If you are sensitive, please tread lightly. It is not my intention to cause more pain, but to show how God can use even our worst trauma for good.

But Joseph said to them, “Don’t be afraid. Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”

Genesis 50:19-20 (NIV)

When you’re fourteen, they call it puppy love. I thought it was real because he claimed he loved me, too. He was older and cute in a rugged sort of way, with shaggy long brown hair and a scruff of facial hair, not quite a beard and mustache.

One day he asked me to go for a walk, just to talk. The biting cold drove us indoors to his house. In my naiveté, I never saw it coming. At the tender age of 14, my 105-pound frame was overpowered and violated. Without a second thought, he crushed my spirit and devoured an innocence I can never redeem.

It can sound like a platitude, or worse, this oft repeated verse:

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

Romans 8:28, NIV

Surely, Paul didn’t mean all things? He couldn’t have meant the rape I suffered? God certainly can’t bring any good from the suffering, shame, and depression that followed me for decades after?

Or can He?

Even now—as a powerless, frightened little girl lives in me and I sometimes struggle with deep despair, doubting God’s blessings—God reminds me I am His beloved. He has empowered me to survive any trial. I may feel powerless and frightened, but the truth is He will not allow me to be utterly destroyed.

Trauma and loss are inevitable for all of us. I’m not alone even in this dreadful experience of sexual assault.

When I consider my experiences in the light of God’s purposes for my life, I see the blessing. His bigger plan becomes less fuzzy, if not clear. I see how my troubles drew me closer to Jesus as my only refuge.

The path my life may have taken—had there been no pain, no loss of innocence—is one in which I may have never understood my need for a Savior. When all is well, what does one need saving from? But I did need to be saved from a darkness that grew deeper with each successive trauma I experienced. I desperately needed rescuing so I could live this wonderful, light-filled life He gave me.

I like the woman God has shaped me into, even if suffering was required for the Potter to mold this piece of clay. God did not plan or desire my suffering, but He certainly used it to develop in me the compassion, mercy, and humility that have become my hallmark. In all my experiences, He worked for my good because He loves me. He has called me to use my experience to give hope to others.

Do you need this hope today?

It’s just a story away. I’d love if you would share your story so that God can begin to use it for good, too. If you don’t know how to even start writing your story, check out my guided poetry journal, which you can request here: https://anotherfearlessyear.net/i-believe-you.