If you are a biblical scholar I would stop reading this post right now, cause I about to spout my short version of a piece of the word and it’s not scholarly.
You see, God and I were having this discussion today about pain. Pain seems to just be what is on my heart these days. Or maybe it is just what my heart is drenched in. I don’t know which. But I do know it’s pain.
We were discussing the fact that I miss my crutch. I miss anger. It was such a distraction to the intensity of my wound. Because I could be angry somewhere, I had so much more grace for everybody around me. These days. I don’t have grace. I have pain.
God took to me back to my cry to run the race well. To live while running. And how in the race, I healed. And in healing, I lost my crutch. And what I didn’t know, was how BAD THAT WOULD HURT.
The fine freaking print folks.
God doesn’t promise us a life of no pain. We don’t accept him into our hearts and he delivers us from all things excruciating. Adam and Eve sinned, they welcome pain back into the world. A world that God had eradicated it all. Yeah, thanks them. They welcomed it back, and they walked the earth doing life as we do it but harder. Pain and no Jesus. Instead they had traditions and spoken word. I mean they also had some pretty intense leaders with some pretty intense experiences. But no Jesus. Then Jesus comes, and you know what he does. He looks at pain, feels it, walks through it, conquers it, and then says to us, “Come follow me, I have broken the power of pain.” Now he doesn’t destroy it, he doesn’t eradicate it, He conquers it. He asks us to follow his pain, through the pain, conquering it.
He wants us to lay down our crutches. To stop using Anger. Food. Relationships. Bitterness. Passive Aggressiveness. Add any crutch or vice here. He longs for us to embrace him, as we embrace the agony. We need to lean our heads into his chest and say, I freaking hate this. I hate that people advert their eyes from my daughter in public. I hate that her imperfections make people uncomfortable. I hate that my son doesn’t have a partner in crime. That her father and I have to plan her funeral.
Then He wants us to know, so does he. It is why he sent Jesus. So that we might feel the power of him in it with us. That we might be powerful in our ability to feel it. Not so that it would be easy, or simple. A God that sends his Son to die so that we can conquer pain, is not a God who causes us pain. He is a God who suffered a loss beyond most of our abilities to understand so that we might chose him to love us through it.
So although this sucks. And I really wish I had read the fine print about throwing away my crutch and running the race well. I choose the pain.
I choose Jesus.
I choose my daughter.
I choose love.
Fine freaking print and all.