Earnest Hemingway supposedly once said, “Write hard and clear about what hurts”. That advice has stopped me a time or two, because it seems dangerously oversimplified. I can’t just write about those deep and dark places- what about privacy? Trust? No one loves to be emotionally vomited on, right?
But tonight, the world feels heavy. So we’re gonna talk about what hurts.
And while I can’t share every detail, I hope the feelings will resonate. Because even when the hurts come from different places and with different intensity, we all bleed the same.
The problem is, we weren’t made to suffer. God created the world in six days and called it good. So good, in fact, that on the seventh, He took a nap. But then we screwed it up. And in so doing, brought into the perfect creation things like betrayal, despair and death. But remember- He called it good on day six. Before all that stuff came in. So we weren’t created to suffer. We don’t have the capacity for it, not really.
Example: If I throw a dairy cow into the ocean, what’s going to happen? Easy answer- Bessie is going down. Like, she’ll tread water for a second, but a cow is created for the pasture, not the big blue yonder. It has hooves and horns, not fins and scales. It wasn’t created to swim. Not really.
In the same way, you and I were made for Eden: not the storm-tossed places we so often find ourselves. We have hearts sensitized to suffering and minds unable to comprehend the horror around us. We might tread water, but ultimately- we’re not gonna make it. So I shouldn’t be surprised that when I’m slapped in the face with suffering, I find myself treading water. Sinking, really. I’m not made for this place. I’m going down.
And yet. In those moments of fear and despair, when I choose to turn my eyes back to Jesus, He deigns to reach His hand down into the waves and says “Little child, why did you doubt?” (Matt 14:22-33). Because while we weren’t made for water, we are indeed loved and cherished by the Master of the Waves.
They all shall sweetly obey Thy will- Peace be still, Peace be still.
I’m currently reading “Suffering is Never For Nothing” by Elizabeth Elliot, and in it she remarks on Psalm 46, talking about how the psalmist reaffirms God as our Refuge during life’s difficulties. She says:
“I speak to you as one who has desperately needed refuge. And in that same Psalm, He says “Be still [and know that I am God]”. I’m told that it’s legitimate to translate that, ‘Shut up and know that I am God’…”
It makes me giggle to think of a marriage between Elizabeth’s interpretation and the song above:
They all shall sweetly obey thy will. Peace, shut up. Peace, shut up.
And before you judge Elizabeth or I too harshly: Which of us parents haven’t, at some time or other when calming an over-tired, hysterical child, running high on exhaustion and low on patience, thought to ourselves: “Peace, shut up, my sweet child and let me take care of you!!”
God is a Perfect Parent- He has an endless supply of love and patience for our doubting and groaning. But He is our Parent, and I think He does from time to time look at us lovingly and just ask us to shut up and trust Him. To stop looking around wildly for answers or relief, but to collapse weary and heavy laden unto His arms, so that He alone can give us rest.
My best friend almost died last month, and her tiny little baby is still on a ventilator, struggling to breathe. I beg the Creator of all breath to heal him. But He doesn’t answer how I want just yet. The days drag on without good news and the platitudes fall flatter every time… but He just asks me to trust.
Another friend has a marriage in crisis. I feel inept to give advice, other than to listen to her heartbreaking sobs and cobble together desperate words of comfort and affirmation. I beg Him to give me wisdom and give her healing… I feel no wiser. She continues to weep… He just asks me to trust.
There’s violence in churches, someone gets cancer, it’s just a big hot mess. I want to rail against the injustice of it all and hide under my bed.
He asks me to be still, and to trust.
To trust that He will, in His own good time, make my path straight. That with faith, He can help me walk on the stormy waters straight to His side. That every step I take in faith draws me closer to His outstretched hands. And when I waver, even then, He reaches down to pull me up again.
Life hurts. We aren’t made for suffering. But we serve a Lord who was literally named The Suffering Servant in Isaiah, because of His life and death on a cross. So that one day, we can go back to a new Eden, where we were created to be, without stormy seas and sinking cows. But we don’t just have a hope in glory: we have a Savior Who promises to walk us there Himself, hand in hand.
If we would just occasionally “shut up” long enough to look up and take the one He’s offering.
With love,
Kelsey
Miracles Enough 