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When I was a little girl, I was terrified of thunderstorms–especially the ones that rolled in overnight and jolted me awake from a deep sleep. It never failed. I bolted straight to my parents’ room every time, landing smack dab in the middle of their bed with a giant thud. Nestled safely between my now-awake mom and dad, I soon fell back asleep.
I found myself in a different type of storm five years ago when our 15-year-old son, Dalton, went to heaven. This storm didn’t involve thunder or lightning but weeping, sorrow, and gut-wrenching agony. Maybe you know this type of storm all too well yourself. This violent grief storm left me confused and wondering where to bolt. Intellectually I knew God was right there holding me. After all, the Bible is full of verses like Deuteronomy 3:16, Deuteronomy 31:8, Joshua 1:5, Isaiah 41:10, and Hebrews 13:5 that promise God will never leave us nor forsake us.
In the days, weeks, and months that followed Dalton’s death, I continued reading God’s Word and praying. If I walked away from Him, I might as well have been standing out in a hurricane with no shelter in sight. But the demanding emotions of grief constantly pushed and shoved against any chance of stability in my heart. My trust in God’s abilities hadn’t left without a trace but certainly felt as if it was being held together with duct tape. The power of His presence kept slipping right through the giant cracks of my shattered heart. I wanted this storm to work like the ones in the good old days–feel afraid, run to my parents, and instantly know everything was going to be okay. Seemed like a pretty reasonable request from the loving Heavenly Father I had spent all of my life learning about in Sunday School.
Out of necessity, grief quickly became the teacher that taught me how to see God’s character in new ways—and in the process, six deeply-rooted illusions I held were graciously uncovered.
Do any of these resonate with you today? If so, you are in good company! My grief forced me to ponder my disillusionment. What I found is that disillusionment wasn’t all bad. As Alicia Britt Chole wrote in The Night Is Normal, “Losing an illusion opens the way to gaining a reality. Removing false ideas clears a path to finding truer ideas.” Relief! Turns out the size of my faith wasn’t the culprit all along. I just needed to diss the illusions I had operated under before devastating loss uprooted my world.
Let’s consider what revelations were made after the “fire of Truth refined and purified my beliefs.”
SPIRITUAL SECURITY IS THE ONLY GUARANTEED GOD-GIVEN PROMISE OF PROTECTION.
As Christians, it’s tempting to interpret verses about God’s protection in reference to our physical safety. And while He does care about our physical well-being, the truth is, the Bible only promises spiritual security. John 10:28-29 reminds us that if we belong to God, nothing can snatch us from His hands. Even when we die, we will be eternally safe with Him forever in glory. My former theology claiming Christians don’t face the same emotional torrents as non-believers was greatly flawed. Living in a broken, chaotic world is the reason John 16:33 testifies that, “in this world, you will have trouble.” And trouble , without a doubt, WILL bring strong, inner wrestling even when we’re sitting with the Prince of Peace. The Good Shepherd isn’t protection from feeling distress. He’s a refuge when we feel distressed. Our turmoil is God’s invitation to “be still and know that I am God.” Even Jesus, who came as God incarnate, felt fear, agony, grief, sorrow, and anger. The presence of pain doesn’t signal the absence of God. It signals your existence in a fallen, sinful world.
GOD DOESN’T ALWAYS HEAL US IN POOF. MORE OFTEN, HIS MOST EFFECTIVE HEALING PRACTICES INCLUDE US BEING STILL OVER TIME BESIDE THE GREAT PHYSICIAN.
Emotions are complicated and highly impacted by life experiences that twist and squeeze our attitudes and views of ourselves, the world around us, and God. We don’t need to understand the mystery behind instant peace on some occasions and slower-than-molasses peace (often for days or weeks) on others in order to trust the Lord’s hand. Scripture supports both outcomes. Remember Bartimaeus’ sight that was instantly restored in the presence of Jesus. And even better, I bet you remember Joseph who was forced to wait more than a decade before his ultimate restoration after being sold into slavery by his brothers. Why the discrepancy? The answer is simple. We. Don’t. Know. What we do know is this–God invites us and longs for us to wait upon Him, even if the soothing takes way more time than we approve of. He alone provides the grace necessary to sustain us through every waiting period He puts in our path. Using an individualized care plan, God determines the physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual healing (Matthew 22:37) we need and knows precisely what it takes to get each of us there.
GOD’S PRESENCE ACTUALLY BECOMES LESS POTENT WHEN HE FIXES MY PROBLEMS AND GIVES ME A LIFE OF COMFORT.
A bigger, more robust God is required to comfort me, heal me, and use my pain for purpose EVEN THOUGH my problem remains than is required to do the same when I’m getting the exact life I always dreamed of. The presence of God’s Light shines dramatically brighter in the deep, dark cave than it does in the beautiful, bright sunshine.
MY FAITH ISN’T WEAK. RATHER, IT’S BEEN MIS-FORMED BY LONG-STANDING ILLUSIONS THAT NEED TO BE RE-FORMED.
The gut-wrenching pain I feel even when I’m clinging to God on the floor in anguish isn’t sinful proof that my trust is shallow. It proves I’m a human experiencing the sharp, unrelenting sting of death that accompanies tragic, out-of-order loss.
GOD’S PRESENCE DOESN’T HOLD OR NOT HOLD VALUE BASED ON WHAT I THINK AND DO. IT HOLDS VALUE BASED ON WHO HE IS AND WHAT HE DOES WHILE HE CRADLES ME.
IN GOD’S ECONOMY, HIS NEARNESS IN OUR SUFFERING YIELDS RAPIDLY MULTIPLYING BENEFITS THAT PLANT HEALING SEEDS OF GRACE.
God’s presence doesn’t merely offer us a companion in the dark cave. Although a companion definitely tips the scales in the hopeful direction. More importantly, we get a steadfast, Sovereign sojourner who humbly demonstrates His power by leading us out of the pit of sorrow.
In his book, The Body Keeps the Score, Dr. Bessel van der Kolk explains, “The most natural way for human beings to calm themselves when they are upset is by clinging to another person.”
I don’t know about you, but I need no further proof–God is the only super–natural person worthy “to cling to when I’m upset.”
The progression used to go like this–I felt afraid, ran to my parents, and found instant calm.
Now the narrative goes more like this–I feel anguish, run to my Heavenly Father, abide in His love as long as it takes for me to remember that everything is eventually going to be made right one day. And so it goes as often as needed.
Every time the grief skies darken, it’s likely we may still cry, feel sorrow, and even wish the storm to pass quickly. But we must also never forget to keep doing the one thing we know won’t ever let us down: We’ll cling. We’ll cling to the Anchor who never lets go. Because even if the storm doesn’t stop, His presence is our peace and source of true joy, His nearness is our healing, and His grace is the love that tethers us no matter the direction or duration of the storm.
Questions for personal reflection or group discussion