Beautiful Pain

Have you ever been in such a place of pain that no one could help you?  No beautiful words from those you love the most could lift the burden? No scripture or word or song could pierce through the dark cloud?

If you’re taking a moment to read this…of course you have.

Such is life…

I was cleaning out some old files and came upon this poem yesterday.  I wrote it several years ago.  I have never shared it before, because to me, some things are just too personal…too close…too sacred to offer to others.

But I found myself wanting to do so, in hopes maybe this can encourage someone.

As Believers, I think we often look at trouble in our lives as an attack from a dark force.  I grew up and spent a lot of my spiritual walk thinking a lot about that…the forces of darkness…Satan…the powers and principalities of evil…

This little writing will not go into the deep scriptural or philosophical discussions about those died-in-the-wool Christian doctrines.

But I have come to believe that EVERYTHING that comes my way works for the GOOD of Yahweh’s will in my life.  All the easy and the hard…the ups and downs…the mountains and the valleys…the joy and the pain are all part of His holding me close and answering my cry to order my steps for His glory.

I think Yahshua’s earthly sojourn is the greatest example of that truth.  When all was lost…everything was actually found.  When all was death, life sprang forth.  Out of the deepest of wounds flowed healing waters of redemption. 

“Father, if it be your will, let this cup pass from me; however, not my will, but yours be done…”

I take issue with a gospel that touts comfort as the greatest benefit.  I’ve observed through the years that many Christians begin to wilt and fade at the first sign of loss or pain…raising their fists and their voices asking how could God let this happen?  Why me?

It’s no wonder not much changes; it’s no surprise there is little generational legacy among Believers.

But I know there are many throughout the earth today who are sensing this great shifting that is going on…for His glory.  I have seen more and more evidence that there is a remnant…a family of faith…mature men and women who have been through the dark night of the soul, and who are emerging with clean hands and pure hearts, prepared to be clothed in garments (divine identity) as the Bride of Christ.   

And I promise you this; these folks have been through some things.  These men and women of various skin colors and nationalities…different languages and cultures…from all the corners of this earth…have shed tears of pain so deep that there were moments they weren’t sure they’d make it.  They’ve been through seasons in which they couldn’t cry anymore; couldn’t pray; couldn’t speak His word; couldn’t hear the Father’s voice or feel His loving embrace or experience His comfort in any way.

And yet, they believed…

And all of us who have suffered come to understand that all of it…ALL OF IT…is the working of our Father, because He loves us and He is passionate to see us become a part of His amazing, mysterious, eternal plan of redemption.  

You remember that promise…  “Remember that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”

If you’re there today, know that you are not alone.  If your pain is speaking louder than all the other voices, just be still and know that not only is your Father working in all of this; but you have others across the earth and across the generations who are waiting for you to emerge out of the darkness of night into the glorious light of His glory.  

Healing will come, my friends.  Healing WILL come…

The Beauty of Pain

Yahweh’s word has afflicted me—bruised my soul—caused my strength to ebb.

The lovely path upon which I’ve traveled has given way to an empty void of loss and loneliness. 

And those who think they know have come to help.

But not one among these can I find to comfort me—not one to offer solace.

These well-intentioned would-be healers see the surface wound,

 and utter trite testimonies of those who have survived such injury before.

They do not know—they cannot.

And so I let the pain do its work…

And I cry out to the only One who knows.

And in that crying, I am awakened to a startling and disconcerting truth…

And the cries become deeper, more desperate, more holy…

The depth of this cry flows not from the wound alone but from the hallowed assertation that my Healer is also my Afflicter.

And I cry until my voice gives out…and then in silence, still I cry.

I realize in confusion that all words have failed; all previous victories have ceased to matter; all former glories have faded.  

This pain has no word…no exegesis…no exposition.  

This pain can only be felt; not uttered.

The breath He supplies is my only language…

Out of this place, His breath in me continues to call out…

Calls to the only One who knows this place in me…calls to my Afflicter.

I called for truth;

 I called for depth of understanding. 

I called for Him.

 If I had known the answer to those cries would bring death to some things dearest…I could not have cried.

Oh, that this might pass from me; but not my will, but Yours.

And so I yield to my Afflicter who is my Healer…because I know that I am His, and His alone.

So be it.

So be the loss.

So be the beautiful pain.

So be His word in me.