Tag: afflictions

When Brutality Smashes Into Grace

photo, by Jonny Jelnek- Flickr

“Don’t waste your pain; use it to help others.  Your greatest ministry will most likely come out of your greatest hurt.” 

Rick Warren

Nothing I can say will cause your pain to go away. Any words or counsel are nice but weak when applied to that grievous wound or disability. Fellow believers will want to guide you, they mean well. They love Jesus and their hearts are good. I know this.

But it can be like two Tylenol to a man with a broken leg.

Pain, in every way I can think of, is always evil. It raises its head to either nibble at our edges or devour us completely.

I have friends who struggle with migraines and others with Lou Gehrig’s disease.  A few friends have been incredibly injured, and a few others have impaired disabilities.  Two or three have severe diabetes. One has a painful degenerative hip syndrome.  Also, I have a dear elderly saint in her later stages of Alzheimer’s. One of my friends has cerebral palsy. 

(Enough already?!)

I must tell you I also walk in chronic pain and am permanently disabled. My own discipleship hasn’t been easy. Pain has only shown me my need to invite His powerful presence of Jesus, and to become fully His. I’m learning this.

We who hurt deeply are given the option of becoming truly gentle people. 

Gentleness is not an easily given gig– the lessons can be rude and hard and even with possible tears. Faith lifts the rough veil of this ugly circumstance and finds the merciful God beaming with love.

And we are taught the hard reality of human beings. Looking eye to eye we connect with people and grasp their struggling lives. We see their needs and want to alleviate pain.  We want to serve and give and love, finally.

Love shows me how it should be done; and suddenly a profound mystery, I’m loving like Jesus! I’m doing what He would do. Our hearts swell at this revelation. We understand. 

And our hearts will decide that issue. Is it real?

So few really understand and discern, and even fewer can help you. Love them all. Love Jesus. Stay broken, gentle, and faithful to Loving Father.

A few years ago some asked me if I had the faith to be healed, they challenge us, “where’s your faith, brother?” 

Hmm. But what about having faith in God even when you stay sick? To actively trust the special kindness of Him no matter what?  

If you had never known afflictions in your own life, how do you think that you can properly touch those ‘nail-scarred’ hands which Jesus meets you with?  And the apostles, and all those martyrs from every generation in an unbroken line of suffering. 

And what about their crosses?

Our own?? 

“Ah, afflicted one, your disabilities were meant to unite with God’s enabling, your weakness to combine with His power. God’s grace is at hand –sufficient– and at its best when human weakness is most profound.”

F.B. Meyerbry-signat (1)

 

Setting Yourself on Fire

Difficulty and pain sometimes come from others, and challenges to the Lordship of Jesus often come from our unique circumstances.

But what if it was something we’ve done?

I remember the classic picture of a Buddhist monk who sat in the middle of a street. He was serene as he soaked himself with gasoline, and lit himself on fire as a protest against a war he believed was wrong and evil. He burned himself in front of the cameras.

All too often we’re pretty much responsible for our own self-immolation. It is we (and we alone) that set ourselves ablaze. Sin affects our minds and hearts. We set ourselves on fire.

When we sin– when we walk in ‘known’ disobedience we always put ourselves in an awful place. We love it but learn to hate it too. But we continue to do it regardless of the awful death that ensues.

God promises to forgive us. Out of our ashes, He keeps bringing us life and hope.

You can be forgiven. You can find life again, even if you’re fully responsible for the evil we’ve done to yourself. Yes, we all sin, and yes we walk in our own personal rebellion. But Jesus knows it all. These awful things we’ve all done can be forgiven.

As a man and a preacher of the Gospel, I realize that I often choose to sin. In spite of all I know and teach I realize that I can live in the ashes of my own making. As one who also struggles with bipolar, I understand that I’m even more susceptible to doing awful things. I understand that I choose darkness even though others will call me “a man of God.”

As you read this I’m praying that you find His forgiveness and mercy. You’ve come a long way it seems, but you must see His blood that was ‘released’ from His veins and arteries for you.

He desperately loves you–even if you’ve set yourself on fire, and sit in the ashes of your doing.

“To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.“

Isaiah 61:3

Bitter Water

In Exodus 15 there’s an incident that carries weight for today. Israel has come to the springs of Marah. The water is bitter. The people turn to Moses. They challenge him and the complaint voraciously. “Why have you brought us here?” They press Moses to the point of mutiny. They are furious.

Some commentators believe this bitter water was a laxative, and anyone who drank this “bitter” water made many trips to the outhouse!

Moses is shown a branch of a common tree. The Lord speaks a word of ďirection he’s to throw the branchaďirectly into the spring. It’ll cure the water, and make it sweet.

It seems to me that Jesus’ awful cross cures the bitterness we absorb as we make our way through life.

Getting a Grip on Boredom

Monotony can easily become an issue for many. I had been told to be on alert for it, but it seems like I’ve got to learn for myself.

With any chronic illness, there can be something tedious and routine about life. To have a physical or mental illness is acutely painful in many different ways. Afflicted people understand what I’m talking about. Pain can be intense and intrusive. Sometimes these things can become really depressing.

The sheer boredom of my illness can strangle my walk. It seems every day is the same and the foreseeable future holds little hope of it changing. Now I’m a reasonably sedate person. I don’t need a lot of excitement. (I like a good book and a cup of tea.) I’m not after adventure, but I don’t care too much for monotony either.

Brain-numbing existence is quite common for the afflicted.

Many people don’t understand this. Others do. And it’s not limited to us who struggle with illness. It’s seen in other people too. This brain-numbing life happens to many as well. Consider–

  • the single mom working as a secretary
  • the man mopping floors
  • the college grad frying burgers
  • the resident at the old folks’ home, every day is the same

These situations seem inescapable. We see ourselves locked into a situation where escape is not possible. We are consigned to do whatever our circumstances dictate. We’re all trapped. Pure and simple. We can find no meaning in our lives; we start to despair, “Will it ever be different?”

I believe the drabness of our lives can often be attributed to a lack of intimacy with the Lord Jesus. We are built for fellowship with God, and anything else is just “treading water.” Nothing satisfies, except Him present. I need Him desperately.

When I’m filled with hopelessness, I often find myself filling the emptiness with anything I can find. This usually leads to even more sadness and deadness inside. It’s a vicious cycle that destroys as easily as more gross and obvious sin.

When I ponder my hopelessness I feel like giving up. I simply don’t want to take another step into the doldrums of what my life has become. I despair that life will continue its suffering grind.

I must have joy in order to survive.

“The joy of the Lord is your strength” (Neh. 8:10). I don’t have to dwell in the grey drabness of hopelessness. My heart can find a reason to “sing to the Lord.”

“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped. Therefore my heart celebrates, and I give thanks to him with my song.”

Psalm 28:7, CSB

The Psalms repeatedly tell me the incredible power of a life that sings.

The Holy Spirit understands our brokenness. Jesus is interceding for us at this very moment, and I can rise above this tedious mess I have made for myself. This is the only way out for me. Depression is a form of suffering.

I give it to Him. I take the strength and joy He gives.