Suffering

Gethsemane Glasses

LAURA PATTERSON | GUEST I awoke that Friday morning in May to the same white walls and sterile smell for the twenty-second day in a row. The same dingy blinds covered the same window. The birthday cards I’d received the week prior were still taped up on the mirror on the far wall. The now familiar white blanket engulfed my legs and torso. The sense of familiarity I’d come to find in my surroundings was suddenly arrested that morning as feelings of shock, dread, and numbness flooded my body and left me wondering if I was truly awake. I’d just given birth during the wee hours of the morning and, after being returned to my antepartum room without my baby, I had somehow managed to sleep for an hour or two. Doctors, nurses, and a lactation consultant visited me in my haze, and I eventually got the news that I could go meet my child. My nurse assisted me into a wheelchair, and I took the longest ride of my life to the adjoining children’s hospital. I knew I was headed to meet my baby in the neonatal intensive care unit, but no amount of exposure or information could have prepared me for the shock of meeting my two-and-a-half-pound infant covered in tubes, lines, and bruises. The well-intentioned nurse assigned to my son that day noticed my tears, came to the bedside, and said gently, “it’s ok, mom.” “NO, IT’S NOT!” I yelled deep within my soul. From Demanding to Entrusting My internal cry that morning was full of truth. My baby was not ‘ok’. The neonatologist sat my husband and I down in a private room only hours later to help us understand that we should expect our son to die within a couple of days’ time. I felt the very visceral reality of life in a sin-sick, disease-laden, death-cursed world. Crying, ‘It’s not ok!’ wasn’t wrong. But it was incomplete...

Gethsemane GlassesChristina Fox2024-10-27T21:14:50+00:00

God is Our Helper in Suffering

My Help Comes from the Lord A Song of Ascents. Psalm 121 1 I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? 2 My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. 3 He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. 4 Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. 5 The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand. 6 The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. 7 The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. 8 The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore. A few weeks ago, my family and I joyfully approached the end of my husband’s nine-week assignment away from us. He was set to fly home from a base near Montgomery, Alabama, but as the day approached, we realized that Hurricane Helene was the last obstacle between us. As we watched the weather coverage, we recalled our own experience of Hurricane Ian when it came ashore in south Florida. As we remembered visiting our neighbors' soggy homes and apartments, washing their laundry, and sorting through their belongings hoping to find a starting place to rebuild, we now prayed for many friends whose lives would be impacted by another great storm. Encouragement from Psalm 121 Psalm 121, a song of ascents, played in the background of my thoughts as I texted and messaged our PCA family. These fifteen psalms are a familiar text that I use to ponder our pilgrim life lived in community. But these last difficult days, this psalm has been a prayer for our sisters, scattered throughout Florida and the southeast. The psalmist knew his vulnerability as he scrambled up the hillside toward Jerusalem. He was not alone, but still, the pilgrims who ascended this trail were susceptible to falling, scorching sun in the day, bandits, flash floods, wild animals, dehydration, and sheer exhaustion. Without a GPS, map, or compass, there may have been moments on the path when one would wonder if they had lost the way. Something about this climb made the pilgrims’ vulnerability more obvious...

God is Our Helper in SufferingChristina Fox2024-10-19T12:42:31+00:00

The Gift of Crisis

LYNNE RIENSTRA | GUEST I was at our denomination’s General Assembly when I received the call from my radiologist: “Mrs. Rienstra, your tests reveal that you have breast cancer.” Fast forward to six weeks later. As my husband was driving me home from the surgery that removed my cancer, a car ran a stop sign and slammed into us, right in front of where I was sitting. Within minutes I found myself in an ambulance on my way to yet another hospital. Crisis. It’s the gift none of us wants. Because when crisis comes, it broadsides us. It reminds us that in spite of our best efforts, we are ultimately out of control. Crisis exposes us as those who are in deep need and unable to help ourselves. It causes us to cry out to God. But what if at that very point, crisis turned out to be a gift? Crisis Reveals More of God to Us When crisis hit the family of Mary and Martha of Bethany (John 11:1-44), they never dreamed that embedded in the sickness of their brother Lazarus was the extraordinary opportunity to experience Jesus in a whole new way. The sisters knew two things: Jesus loved them and their brother (vv. 3; 5), and Jesus had the power to heal. So, when their brother Lazarus fell ill, they did what any of us would have done: they asked Jesus for help. Having sent for Jesus, the sisters expected to see Him arrive quickly and save the day. Only He didn’t. One day passed, and Lazarus worsened. Another day passed, and their worst fears were realized. Lazarus died. Lazarus was buried. And still no sign of Jesus…. When Jesus finally did come, Martha ran out to meet Him, saying, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (v. 21). With Lazarus’s body decaying in a nearby tomb, Jesus made the stunning revelation that He is “resurrection and the life” (v. 25). And in faith-filled response, Martha proclaimed, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God…” (v. 27). Here’s my question: Would this essential truth have been revealed to Martha apart from the wrenching loss of her brother? Let’s also consider her sister, Mary, still back at the house, suffering in deep grief. This is the Mary whom Jesus had invited to sit at His feet. She had chosen the better part. Mary knew Jesus loved her and her brother. But the crisis of Lazarus’s death may have caused her to wonder (as we often do in our own crises): “Why didn’t Jesus come? I thought I knew Him. I must have lost His love.”...

The Gift of CrisisChristina Fox2024-10-02T15:02:46+00:00

Hope in Hindsight: Navigating Unexpected Journeys

KIM BARNES | CONTRIBUTOR Have you ever felt like your life was heading in a clear direction, only to have things take a sharp turn? Maybe you felt called to a new job or ministry, only to have it fall apart. Perhaps you envisioned your empty nest years filled with one thing, but reality brought something entirely different. A little over five years ago, my husband and I felt confident that God was calling us to a new place and ministry. It was a significant change, and there was trepidation as we embarked on this journey. However, the path seemed wide and clear, and we sensed God’s leading. So, we set off for my husband to pastor a church 800 miles away from Central Florida, where I had spent most of my life. We embraced our new home and hoped that we’d spend the next couple of decades serving this church and community that we quickly grew to love. That’s not what happened. My husband lost his job after two years. It was a gut-punch, and we were devastated. A path that initially seemed so welcoming, one that we thought would lead to joy and life-giving ministry, became a road filled with grief, betrayal, and despair. Along the way, we saw God’s hand at work, nevertheless it was a season where we questioned God’s calling on our lives and felt uncertainty about the future. Life wasn’t turning out the way I thought it would. The Bible is filled with stories where journeys lead to unexpected places...

Hope in Hindsight: Navigating Unexpected JourneysChristina Fox2024-07-26T14:16:29+00:00

Five Things I Learned From My Husband’s Life-Threatening Illness

LEAH FARISH|GUEST “Inoperable.” “Stage 4.” “Radiation won’t help.” “Aggressive cancer.” These are things I was told about my husband Kent’s sudden, alarming condition two months ago. But I was also told important things from the Word of God. Since those are the things that apply to everyone, those are what I want to tell you. When we thought he had mere weeks to live, we sat together in awe as he sipped bone broth, the only thing he could stomach. He had started chemotherapy the very day he first saw an oncologist, who admitted him straight to the hospital. We murmured in disbelief to see my husband, a physician himself and a dynamo of energy, quickly declining to a wraith who couldn’t walk across the street. I started asking him his passwords, and hired a yard man. Calls and texts started to pour in to my phone with questions and offers of help. One thing we resolved to do was not to criticize or minimize any attempt to comfort or assist us. I learned not to second-guess messages or gestures of concern, no matter how brilliant or clumsy. We agreed we would take everything that people brought to our situation, no matter how big or small, as straight from God’s hand. We had no desire to use what we thought were Kent’s last days in critiquing ways that others tried to express their love. Love doesn’t keep count of wrongs suffered, so if we had had expectations of what someone should do for us, we gladly dropped them. Since when one member of the Body hurts, we all hurt, maybe wisdom from the pain might come to us through another who was not technically suffering. Kent even started habitually opening his hands upward whenever someone would proffer a prayer or encouraging word. Soon we felt the surrounding cloud of loving support sent by the Body of Christ...

Five Things I Learned From My Husband’s Life-Threatening IllnessChristina Fox2024-07-04T15:43:41+00:00

Terribly Beautiful

LAURA PATTERSON | GUEST “Mom, why did I have a brain injury?” The dinner-table inquiry of my eight-year-old hit me like a ton of bricks. The heaviness wasn’t due to the novelty of the question but to its repetition. The ‘why’ has become a recurrent question for a child who is becoming increasingly aware of his differences. And the question is one that necessitates answers that come in deepening layers over the years. My son knows that he has cerebral palsy. He knows it was caused by damage to his brain. And he knows a developmentally appropriate medical explanation for what happened in my pregnancy and his earliest days of life. Yet his question still remains: why? The conversation around the dinner table labored on as my husband and I both grappled out loud, before our children, with what we know of the God in whom we profess faith. Of his sovereignty. Of His good purposes. Of the glory He can receive in all things. Answering Hard Questions Our ten-year-old, listening and processing from the seat to my left, interrupted, “…but why would God’s plan include something bad?” It’s easier to talk about suffering and disability when it isn’t sitting right next to me. But it’s another thing to apply what I know to be true in the very present reality of pain, tears, weariness, and grief. In that holy moment around the dinner table, the heart of what we could share with our three boys is that we really don’t know why God does all that He does. We don’t know why God has seen fit for life to include unending therapy appointments, specialist doctor visits, special education, surgery, orthotics, and the list could go on...

Terribly BeautifulChristina Fox2024-05-01T15:55:05+00:00

On Suffering and Hope in Romans 5

EDEN FLORA | GUEST I vividly remember being 22, a new college graduate, and feeling very alone. I felt overwhelmed at the life that lay ahead of me. I wondered, how do I get from where I am to where I want to go? And where do I even want to go? Being 22 was rather scary, not at all like what Taylor Swift sings, “everything will be alright if we just keep dancing like we’re twenty-two.” The next paragraph you will read is difficult. I always feel apologetic as I head into my story. I think because it’s shocking and people often find it difficult to know how to respond. In the last semester of my college career, my reality was turned upside down. My wonderful, kind, lovely, but not dainty mother died by suicide. Though she had struggled with mental illness for years, quite obviously, it completely changed my life. When I think about my younger self, I long to comfort her and speak God’s truth to her. I was so scared. I couldn’t imagine anything other than that season. It felt so heavy and unmovable. I wish almost 40-year-old Eden could just sit with her and keep her company. In the months and years following, I just tried to get by. I had no clear goals, no solid plans, and not many ideas. It was painful and lonely. Gratefully, I knew God and felt His presence. I had people that cared about me. I had access to gifted therapists. But I couldn’t get past my sorrow, though I desperately felt like I should. I kept thinking that it was time for me to not be so sad. I think it was because I didn’t want to feel sad any more. I was afraid I would remain in that place forever. I remember reading Romans 5:3-5: “...we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” I didn’t understand how I could rejoice in my suffering...

On Suffering and Hope in Romans 5Christina Fox2024-04-09T20:51:36+00:00

He Knows Our Every Trouble

CLAIRE STREBECK | GUEST Christ identifies with all our weaknesses. Christ understands our every sorrow. Do you weep? Do you mourn? If there were one characteristic that marked Jesus' earthly ministry, it would be compassion. Over and over, he was moved with deep pity for those weeping, especially those who were disadvantaged: the widow from Nain; Mary at the death of Lazarus; the sinner-woman who wailed as she washed Christ's feet with her expensive perfume and her tears. Yet, it was not only their circumstances that provoked Jesus' emotion. Certainly, any of their conditions could have been sufficient to prompt anyone to sympathy. Still, with Jesus, each emotional response included more than mere circumstantial pity. Every time Christ was moved in his emotions, it was in response to the battle he waged with death. Jesus’ Emotional Response to Our Fallen World When Christ saw Mary and the other Jews weeping over Lazarus' death, he felt more than sorrow. John 11:33 tells us that He was "deeply moved." I was surprised to discover that the text signifies more than Jesus' sadness and sympathy–John also communicates Jesus' rage. The original Greek word used is embrimaomai, which literally translates to "being very angry or moved with indignation." Was Christ angry at Mary or those with her? Was he angry over their grief? Absolutely not. In fact, we see that he was stirred in response to their mourning, with his own shedding of tears only two verses later. It was death itself that prompted our Lord to anger. ...

He Knows Our Every TroubleChristina Fox2024-03-05T18:10:48+00:00

Churches Need a Biblical Theology of Suffering

PAMELA MCGINTY | GUEST “When it is the heart that has been wounded, it doesn’t heal.” These words broke my heart when I first heard them, from a woman who had experienced great trauma throughout her young life. Women across Africa often express similar beliefs. The word, ‘trauma’ comes from the Greek, τραύμα, meaning ‘wound.’ Emotional trauma is a wound of the mind and heart that affects our brains, bodies, beliefs, and behaviours. Yet, the effects of trauma CAN change, hearts CAN heal, and our faith and trust in God can be renewed and grow. Africans Know Trauma Africa includes many of the most traumatized countries in the world. Physical, emotional, sexual, and spiritual abuse, violent crime and political unrest are often the norm. Yet, emotional health is often ignored or poorly addressed, and holistic soul care within the church is rarely found. Many Africans know trauma all too well, yet often have little understanding of its effects on them or where to turn for help. Where should our emotional support come from? Africans are spiritual. Most all believe that a Creator designed us as embodied souls, but many pray to a god whose favour they believe they can earn. Africans are relational, but across South Africa much traditional community and extended family support has been lost due to displacement and economic pressures. More than two-thirds of homes are fatherless and healthy; intact nuclear families are rare. In some African cities there is a growing desire for professional counselling, yet this can be confusing or harmful when it contradicts traditional or Christian beliefs and ethics. All Western thought may be held suspect, even the common grace wisdom that God has revealed through sciences. Few Christian mental health professionals are equipped to understand their secular education through the foundation of their faith, or to discern where conflicts exist between them. A Missional Opportunity All this leaves many Christians feeling desperately alone when seeking relief from emotional pain. Yet, this provides an amazing opportunity for the Church. Diane Langberg believes “…trauma is perhaps the greatest mission field of the twenty-first century.”[1] All souls who do not know the Lord are our mission field, but by addressing the trauma that hearts have experienced and providing biblically sound counsel with an understanding of the physiology involved, we can point people to Christ and the healing of souls which only He can provide...

Churches Need a Biblical Theology of SufferingChristina Fox2023-10-09T21:54:50+00:00

A Reason for Pain and Suffering

SHARON ROCKWELL|CONTRIBUTOR Now in the winter of my life, I have witnessed many friends and family members deal with hardships that resulted in physical pain – miscarriages, a stillborn child, loved ones taken too soon, those who have had to endure cancer and heart disease. Whenever I encounter someone in physical pain, my first inclination has been to pray that the pain would be taken away. Secondly, I would offer help where needed. Finally, I would make a deliberate effort to be grateful for all my blessings and for God’s goodness to me. My feet have landed in pleasant places in comparison. Psalm 16:5-6 reminds me of God’s goodness; “The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.” Never have I looked into the eyes of a friend who was in pain and thought to myself this is a reminder to repent. But that is precisely what John Piper tells us is a reason for physical pain in the world. In his book Providence, Piper presents a convincing argument that God uses our pain as a call to repentance. He reminds us first that our fallen world is under God’s judgement. He permits the physical pain, the tragedies, and death itself. But why? Why does God judge the world with physical pain? His argument goes back to the fall. When Adam rebelled and ate the fruit of the tree which he was not supposed to eat, he was essentially taking a stand. He decided that his ways were better than God’s ways, that God’s law did not matter, arrogantly thinking that there would not be consequences. It was a mockery of God, completely out of step with what he owed God, which was glory, praise, honor, and obedience. We are still like Adam, completely unaware of how much our sins grieve our holy God. God has become so insignificant in our daily lives that we don’t realize how much we hurt Him. Piper suggests this is “one of the reasons God judged moral evil with physical pain. While fallen people do not value God, they do value being pain free. Therefore, to point them to the outrage of belittling him, God judges that belittling of God with physical pain and sorrow. He subjected the whole creation to futility and corruption. In other words, God puts the call to repentance in the language everyone can understand – the language of pain and death.”[1]...

A Reason for Pain and SufferingChristina Fox2023-08-15T13:24:26+00:00