Here’s the awful, raw truth – are you ready?
Life doesn’t care. Life won’t slow down so you can grieve. Life won’t slow down so you can sit in silence and think. Life won’t slow down when you’ve run out of the tears you thought would never stop coming.
Life doesn’t care how many tears you’ve cried.
Life doesn’t care how many times you’ve yelled out in frustration or how much pain you’re in.
Life doesn’t care if you’re beat up, bruised, and broken or fighting just to get up every day.
Life doesn’t care.
Life doesn’t care if you don’t know if you can take the next step.
Life doesn’t care if you can’t get out of bed or eat or sleep.
Life doesn’t care if every breath hurts just a little more than the last one.
Life doesn’t care about your snotty, running face or the puddle of tears you consistently leave on your pillow.
It just doesn’t care – Life just doesn’t care.
And you can’t change that.
You can’t change the fact that the world keeps going around and around when all you want is a few moments to sit so you can heal – but Life won’t allow that. The World won’t allow that.
But there is Someone much more powerful than Life – His greatness that has prevailed throughout all – outside of all time, space, and matter. He would love nothing more than for you and me to live in fulness of joy and peace, and to do that, we often have to sit, we have to wait, to get there because healing takes a lot of time – trust me, I know.
So, would you sit? Would you heal?
Even as the world goes around and around your stopped, painful one, would you sit? Don’t try to play catch up with life right now. Just sit. Just feel everything. Just admit to your pain and brokenness, and know that one day it won’t hurt so much. One day, that pain will go away, but for that to happen you must face it. There is no way to get around that. You will have to sit in the pain eventually, best to make it now when you understand why it’s here.
And each painful breath just reminds you that your life is moving quickly, and Life won’t give you back your time once you’ve recovered from your pain. But it will give you regret, fear, and cause you to feel so, so much awfulness it’s unreal. Life will make you think every pain-filled feeling is the biggest waste – but pain leads to healing. Feeling pain means conquering pain, not shoving it down to deal with later. Because to feel pain, you must face it – the ugly, uncertain, horrific thing it is. I say this with painfully real tears running down my face – face it because you have to for it to get better, for you to heal.
But when you face pain, the ugly thing it is – you conquer it. You conquer it not by thinking about it all the time and becoming obsessive, but by allowing yourself time to sit in it, knowing it’s there, and thinking about each piece in a safe environment that allows you to scream if you have to, to cry, to shake and sob. Sit and know your pain. And in that place of deepest hurt, lift your tear-ridden voice to the Rescuer, the Protector, the Healer.
It hurts like hell. I know. Trust me, I know. It really does, but it won’t one day. One day, you will look back in victory and declare over this pain that you’re feeling right now, that I’m feeling right now, that it didn’t destroy you, it didn’t control you, it didn’t depress you – it grew you. It hurt, but it grew you.
And it grew you because you cried out to the only One who could turn this disgusting, horrible mess into a story of redemption. The one who turned the cross into a symbol of life can most certainly turn your overwhelming pain into joy.
“You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing. You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy.” (Psalm 30:11)
Before David declares this, though, he cries out to God in great distress. His cry is my cry.
“I cried out to you, O Lord. I begged the Lord for mercy, saying, ‘What will you gain if I die, if I sink into the grave? Can my dust praise you? Can it tell of your faithfulness? Hear me, Lord, and have mercy on me. Help me, O Lord.” (Psalm 30:10)
Can you feel the desperation in his cry? The desperation to be rescued from the unyielding pain that he couldn’t handle?
There is a lot of desperation in my cry right now, maybe there is a lot of desperation in your cry too.
Reach out in your desperation—let people help you up because I promise there are people who love you so much and want to do anything they can to love you right now, at your very worst. And I know they have been in a place of desperation before, and they know – they know the need for community in the midst of heartache.
So cry out if you feel abandoned, cry out if you feel alone, if you feel rejected, afraid, unsure – cry out. And know that I’m crying out too – you’re not alone. And when you feel like even God has left you, at that lowest place, you will find that He most certainly has not. In this place of greatest pain, know His unfailing love to be the most steadfast thing you could ever imagine and more.
C.S. Lewis puts pain’s purpose so perfectly – “We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains; it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”
Know your pain, recognize your pain, because God is speaking in it.
The pang of pains grasp will only last for a moment, but this Love will last for an eternity – know there is more to come, and one day, we will be worshiping in His presence, and I can guarantee, when we are worshiping the Father together, neither of us will be thinking of the pain today has brought.
Know that everything will, in fact, be okay. You and I, yeah, we’ll be okay – maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but we will be okay.
“How great is the goodness you have stored up for those who fear you. You lavish it on those who come to you for protection, blessing them before the watching world.” (Psalm 31:19)
It hurts, oh how it hurts—but it will heal, it will heal.