Before I begin dumping my heart onto this article, I must tell you that I am not a philosopher, nor am I the son of a philosopher (because I’m a girl…and my dad is a retired National Park Service employee).
But in my 21 short years of life, I have noticed that pain seems to be a subject that we, Christians, tip-toe around. It’s almost like we are afraid of it. I won’t lie. I’m someone who likes to confront an issue head-on, but when it comes to this, I just like to sheepishly “let go and let God.”
I don’t want to open that can of worms. No thanks.
But after the events of this past month--mass killings in Orlando, bombs in Turkey, murders in Baton Rouge and Dallas, and sadly, much more--I’ve found myself in a stand-off with my pride, fear, and the unknown.
About two years ago, I asked The Lord to teach me what it’s like to live an “it is well with my soul” kind of life. As a young girl, I was enamored with the popular hymn after my dad told me the story of how the author wrote it while on a boat ride over to meet his grieving wife, after losing his children after their ship had sunk.
“Man, what faith. What a way to live. I want that, Father! Teach me what that means!”
Father God met me right there. And let me tell you, He gave me PLENTY of opportunities to exercise my spirit.
A lot of deep pain had come to a head. When I was 14, I was admitted into treatment for a 5-year-long addiction to self-harm that left me with over 250 cuts on my stomach, legs, wrists, arms, and ankles. Fast forward 5 years later when I’m getting ready to start my sophomore year of college. I find myself sleeping 15 plus hours a night, or not sleeping at all. I’m either overeating or snacking on a rice cake every couple hours to keep from passing out. I stopped spending time with people (which is incredibly abnormal for my relational, extroverted personality). I quit playing guitar. I stopped writing. I felt completely numb to almost every emotion.
I decided enough was enough and I began seeing a therapist. There, I found out that, for years, I had been suffering from depression, and my case was fueled by extreme-to-severe anxiety. Awesome.
This was difficult for me to come to grips with. I was on medication that I had to take every day and found out that if I forgot (forgetfulness being a characteristic not too far out of my nature), I would have a splitting headache that left me throwing up and ultra-sensitive to light.
“K, so this is how my life is going to be, right? This medication will be my ball and chain forever and I might pass down this lovely anxiety-depression containing cocktail to my children.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
I remember hearing His response so loud and so clear while I was just doing dishes.
“So you expect me to just live like this?”
“Yep.”
“I thought You liked me! You’re just going to leave me in this pain? You’re just going to sit and watch me suffer? What kind of Father are you?!”
“I’m a Father who has delivered you from your pain when I gave My only Son on the cross. Now, if you want to sit in your pain, that’s your choice.”
Um…k…(said in my sassy, only child, spoiled little girl voice. #salty)
I took some time to chew on my happy little dialogue with God. It was there that I realized that He wasn’t sitting in the background just waiting for me to “decide” when I was done with the suffering. He was with me the whole time. He held every tear. He comforted me and sat next to me through it all.
But here’s the thing…I know He is good. I know He is faithful, and I KNOW He is Healer. So why am I just going to sit around waiting to be miraculously healed?
This is the part that scares me. There are theologians that commit their life to studying pain and its existence. I don’t even like to play on that side of the sidewalk, but I do know that God is NOT the author of pain.
Just like it’s not in my own nature to go light someone’s house on fire, it’s not in God’s nature to cause pain to His children. He did not say “You know what, I think I will craft Sierra Danielle with an anxious spirit. I want her to be depressed so that she can talk about it and I’ll get all the glory.” No. Way.
When God told me that I might be stuck with genetic depression and anxiety that affects me every day and leaves me taking a pill every morning at exactly 8 a.m., I knew that in that moment it became my choice to believe that Father God is good. He is faithful. He is Healer. Not only to believe it when things are good but to believe it during EVERY season of my soul.
And in the same way that Horatio Spafford wrote the lyrics “When peace like a river, attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll; whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul,” while he was on a boat, sailing over the same water that took the lives of his children, then I will say “it is well with my soul” even when my depression gets the best of me.
I’ll say it again. I don’t understand the existence of pain. I wouldn’t know what to say if a family member of one of the victims of these recent, senseless, violent acts came to me and said, “How can you believe God is good when my son/daughter was just taken from me?” I would probably fall to my knees, embrace them, and cry with them without even saying a word. I would intercede for them. I would go to the Father on their behalf and pray for mercy, peace, and understanding where it’s so far from them right now.
In writing this, I hoped to verbally proclaim hope and comfort over myself, as well as every broken heart. I pray these words can serve as a warm shower of light, rinsing off every trace of darkness that might be weighing down your soul.
Father God, You are so good. Thank You for all that You are. We are reminded of Your love and faithfulness daily when we see specks of perfection in nature when we hear the sound of a little baby’s laugh, or when we see the sense of wonder in the eyes of a child. You are the Artist of a perfect masterpiece. You see us as redeemed, loved, perfect, and beautiful, even as we stand in the ruins of this world. Father, I pray for every broken heart. I especially pray for every African-American who stands in fear today. May they see themselves as precious as gold. I lift up every member of the LGBTQ community. Help them to feel loved and understood by the Christians around them. May we never allow politics to stand in the way of loving and interceding for our brothers and sisters. God, strengthen every police officer. Give them the wisdom, the gentleness, and the discernment to carry out the calling You have placed on their lives. God, have mercy on our country. Make Your presence known. Bless every broken heart in the way only You can. Help us to love people better. You are so good. I love you. Amen.
