I really don’t mind being open with others about my struggles — that is, once I’ve overcome said struggles. Sharing myself in this way allows me to show enough of myself to be considered “an open person” but not be seen as too much of a mess. I am comfortable admitting my humanity if I am able to do so in a way that ties it up neatly in a pretty bow. A way that emphasizes my victory rather than my brokenness. It’s easy to want to show off your house once the remodel is complete.
But spiritual growth is messy. And there is no pretty bow.
There was a time in my life that I was deeply broken. Life was too hard, too messy and too devastating for me to navigate on my own. I called a dear friend and she dropped everything to see me. I wept in her presence. I’m talking – mascara all the way down to my neck – can’t even squeak out a word – crying. She had no answers. But I needed no answers.
Allowing myself to be seen as not-having-it-all-together was my worst nightmare. But here I was. I felt as helpless and exposed as a newborn baby letting out her first cry. It was terrifying and deeply humbling. But most importantly, it was necessary.
C.S. Lewis paints a beautiful picture in his book, Mere Christianity;
Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what he is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is he up to? The explanation is that he is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but he is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it himself.
I birthed all three of my babies without an epidural. (It’s still up for debate whether that makes me insane or awesome.) Giving birth was undoubtedly the most physical pain I’ve ever experienced. A few hours into labor with my firstborn, I remember this fear settling into my mind: What if this never ends? What if I am in this state of indescribable agony for all of eternity? Those were unrealistic fears, of course, but in that moment they felt very real.
But the labor did end.
And I had a darling baby girl on my chest. Head full of dark hair. Tiny. Perfect. The pain was over. The joy had come. The reward of labor here— in my arms.
Spiritual growth is not a pain free process. In fact, spiritual growth doesn’t even feel natural because these bodies— these very earthly vessels in which we dwell— are fighting against our spiritual growth.
There have been multiple studies done on the use of acetaminophen (Tylenol) and its effects on emotional pain. Interestingly enough, those who were given acetaminophen indicated significantly lower levels of emotional pain than those given placebos. Crazy, right? Tylenol eases emotional pain just as it eases physical pain. Emotional (spiritual) pain can be so acute that it can actually be lessoned by medication designed for physical (carnal) pain.
Now, I’m not suggesting you pop a couple Tylenol every time your soul feels heavy, but what I am suggesting is this— the Lord knows. He is the creator of both our physical bodies AND our souls. The Lord knows the weight of what he is asking us to carry in our broken physical bodies. He knows that this weight – this calling – will shake us from head to toe. He knows.
2 Corinthians 4:8-9 is a passage I’m sure we’ve all heard more times than we can count. But let’s read it slowly and let these life-giving words light up the deepest corners of our souls…
We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed (unsure of where to go from here), but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.
Afflicted. Perplexed. Persecuted. Struck down. Talk about uncomfortable!
But…
Not crushed. Not driven to despair. Not forsaken. Not destroyed. Hope. Purpose. We are not alone. And weaved throughout the walls of our pain, God’s hand is at work refining us for his glory.
Hope will come. It will be worth the struggle. 1 Corinthians reminds us that our labor in the Lord is not in vain. The pressing and refining of our souls will yield a greater intimacy with the Lord, a closer reflection of our Jesus, a tighter alignment with Holy Spirit and a clearer view of eternal things.
This journey may not be wrapped up in a pretty bow, but I can assure you the Lord will never waste your pain. He is here with you. You can ugly cry at his feet. I promise, you are safe here.