When Misery Seems an Ultimatum

If you have walked this planet for long enough, then you understand deep sorrow. When someone says the word "pain" we immediately think of a cut or a broken bone. That is not what I am talking about. In fact, I would prefer a broken bone (or 5) to a broken heart.

What breaks a heart?

It might be watching a loved one in pain without the power to remedy. Maybe it is knowing that you caused pain in a loved one, and still you have no power to mend. Maybe seeing the truth about yourself is more painful than all the rest. Perhaps it is from the loss of something more valuable than your ability to articulate. Perhaps you realize something inside you has died, and you're morning your struggle for passion. Maybe it is not loss but delay - sorrow until a yearning is fulfilled.

I do not fully understand it, nor do I pretend to. I don't know how or why it comes, but I do know this:

There are times when grey always appears black, when what you once loved yields only torturous memories, when remedy is absent, when deep cries to deep hearing only an echo, and when misery seems an ultimatum. Even if you could see a light at the end of the tunnel you would simply sit and cry because it seems impossibly far off, and you are too tired of hurting to walk forward.

What do you do with a broken heart?

This has been a painful and long week in my life for a few reasons. Don't get me wrong - it has been great to be with my family again while on break, and I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to spend time with my siblings. However, I have had to face this issue of what to do with a broken heart once again, and while I am no expert, I do have some thoughts.

Psalm 30:5 and Psalm 62:1

At the end of the day this is what I know: I am called to trust. If I am broken over a loved one - I can trust God with him/her. If I am broken over my actions or self-revelations - I can trust God with my insufficiencies. If I am broken over the loss of someone/something - I can trust God with whatever it may be. If I am broken over a call to "wait and see" - I can trust God with the outcome. If I am broken over a call to simply "wait" - I can trust God with pain of patience. In essence, if I am broken I can trust God.

When the Son of God was hanging on the cross you may recall Him saying "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" At this moment, Jesus, the Holy deity that has always been in perfect unison with the Father, experiences something powerful enough to make Him cry out to God in that manner. I do not imagine that any level of heartbreak I have ever experienced has been this uncomfortable. We also know that Jesus (in Luke 23:46) openly and fully trusts the Father with everything. Finally, Jesus is alive again three days later, but we must note that it is God who raises Jesus from the dead (Acts 2:24 and 4:10).

I pull five things from this:
1) Jesus felt AT LEAST my level of heartache
2) His first response was trust
3) His second response was wait
4) God was the one who rescued (When we cannot get up and run toward the light, The Light comes and picks us up)
5) Trusting and waiting did not result in an immediate removal of pain (Don't assume that God's number one priority is your immediate happiness - He loves you too much for that)

While I cried over a loved one the other day in the hospital I prayed, affirming out loud that God was trustworthy and intentional and on our side. I am quite sure that trusting and waiting takes courage and strength. Many times I think fighting would be easier (Matthew 26:53-56), but in the times when you either are called not to fight or just simply cannot fight: trust and wait.

For all those hurting, for all those lonely, and for all those yearning, know this: there is someone who has felt your pain, and He happens to be the same one who ferociously loves you and wants to deliver you for your ultimate joy and His ultimate glory. Let your fight be a fight for trust, and let your war be a war for patience.

Pressure creates diamonds,
and fire refines gold.
- Trip Lee

Thank You, God, for being sovereign, active, and on my side. Learning to trust You, Spence.