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.
Have we been cursed?
Pain fills our life. We live with something that is persistent, and our hope is a day when it’s all over. Psalm 88 is our Psalm. Nothing is sugar-coated. It is raw and unabridged. It’s pain under a microscope. That Psalm is yours.
Pastor A.W. Tozer seems to have gotten a hold on something here. Those who step into discipleship or ministry will inevitably be hurt in some significant way. I wouldn’t say it was a ‘given’, but it seems to be the common path we must take. We must be aware–but often we can’t or won’t understand. This is hard and we’re easily confused.
God really isn’t our problem.
He loves us and saves us and He really wants to bless us. He is all goodness and grace. He has no evil intentions concerning you, and certainly has no desire to see you suffer in a crisis of suffering or trial. Even in times of temptation, He simply views it as a step to strengthen us–He never is out to trip us up.
I really think that the issue is us.
Our old nature–the sinner inside, delights in things like pride and selfishness (even in religious matters). Some of the most difficult people I have ever had to work with were in places of oversight within the Church! May I suggest something?
Could it be that the problem isn’t that we are too weak, rather, it is because we are too strong?
God’s intention is ‘to bless greatly.’ But my pride and self-will must be left at the door (repeatedly). My old nature cannot truly work in the Kingdom. Only when these issues are dealt with (repeatedly) will humility and brokenness transform us. Quite simply, there is no way around this. God uses broken things. We must be broken as well.
“It takes broken soil to produce a crop, broken clouds to give rain, broken grain to give bread, broken bread to give strength. It is the broken alabaster box that gives forth perfume.”
“It is Peter, weeping bitterly, who returns to greater power than ever.”
Becoming broken often takes years of trial, temptation, and affliction.
But God is patient. He’s not in any hurry.
You will ‘log-in’ many hours in the desert. Many of His best soldiers have been recruited from that barren place. The Holy Spirit is our best guide through the difficult loneliness and aridity of this place. He will guide you, and comfort you.
I sometimes teach at a local Bible college–I love Song of Solomon and choose to teach it whenever I can. Here’s a verse that has encouraged me over and over:
“Who is that coming up from the wilderness, leaning on her beloved?”
Songs 8:5, ESV
“Before God could bring me to this place He has broken me a thousand times.”
“For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison,”
2 Corinthians 4:17
There is an old folk tale told by the Arab people.
Weary travelers meet up with a man while on a hard journey. “Two more miles, and when you stop, fill your packs with the rocks along the road” he said. “In the morning light, you will become happy and sad at the same time.”
It was dark when they arrived. They were pretty much exhausted, and hardly took any time to think about picking up rocks. They needed food and sleep and there was a few hours to rest; who had time to ponder the odd riddle of an old man?
But there were a few that listened; several went and picked up the gravel– the stones they could find in the dark. Those who listened filled their bags– some little, others more so. The majority did nothing. Who wants to carry rocks in their packs?
The morning came too early, and soon they were back on their journey. There was little time for anything but packing up to move. For some their packs were heavier, and they stopped to inspect their load.
Suddenly, someone shouted out. “Oh my God! Check your packs!” The one who cried out held up an emerald the size of his fist. Others cried out with excitement as they discovered rubies, diamonds and jade gems.
You see, the rocks they had picked up in the dark were really jewels of staggering wealth.
Of course, it only mattered to those who had listened. What some regard as a burden becomes something of significance in the daylight. Perhaps our trials will become more than we could ever fathom. It is worth consideration.
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”
Romans 8:18
P.S. Don’t doubt in the dark what God has shown you in the light.
I’ve been thinking a lot about tears lately—in part because Pastor Bryan pointed out to me how many hits my post titled God Keeps Your Tears in a Bottle has had, in part because I’ve cried more than a few tears this year, and in part because I’ve been listening to Johnny Cash’s Cry, Cry, Cry in my car all week—and I thought I’d share my thoughts with you all here.
First of all, people cry for a lot of reasons.
Earlier this year my sister died of breast cancer at only 61 years old. I cried, a lot. It’s normal and even helpful to shed tears over the death of a loved one even if we know where they are going when they die, because it allows us to express the grief we feel over not having them in our lives any more here on earth.
I remember a time I had a previous boss say some very cruel things to me in front of other people. She accused me of having done things I had not based on motives I did not have. I was very angry, hurt, and frustrated. And I cried, a lot. I didn’t cry in front of her, mind you, but afterwards I did. And it was good to express that anger to others.
I’ve cried tears of loss, anger, indignation with frustration, compassion, and even of joy. I sometimes cry tears of regret when I hear a song about the sacrifice of Jesus, knowing it is my sin that made him suffer.
Just yesterday I experienced unexpected tears.
I was reciting the prayers of the people in church, which I’ve done many times. Our church has many prayer concerns for members, family, and friends with health concerns and more. Towards the end of the prayer I began to lift up prayers for a church member’s brother-in-law who is a pastor back in New York because he is faced with conducting the funerals of two teens who had been killed in an accident last week.
I recently wrote this poem.
Tears
Tears of sorrow, anger drench my soul course without end eroding pain, anguish
Where once only aching occupied my heart now is a deep empty ravine carved by a river of tears
Tears of forgiveness water my soul’s riverbed allowing flowers of love to flourish and grow
Peace arises in my heart held aloft by God’s promises the fragrance of sweet alyssum blossoms of my soul
I think the saddest tears of all, though, are the tears of major clinical depression. These tears are so sad because the one who cries them doesn’t know what purpose they serve.
I remember when I was suffering from depression sitting in a chair and just crying. When someone asked me why I was crying all I could say was, “I don’t know.” And I truly didn’t. The tears didn’t wash away pain; they only seemed to make it all the worse.
In the midst of such tears, there is One who knows their purpose.
Romans 8:26 says: “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” Through prayer God can sometimes lead us to an understanding of the purpose of the tears of depression, and ultimately to healing.
That makes your tears a good thing.
“Tears are often the telescope by which men see far into heaven.“
Broken Believers 