What God has taught by Afflictions

The past few months/weeks/days have brought pain and joy, defeats and victories, and an overall sense of hopeful mourning that is difficult to describe.  But I want to try to put into words what this season of grieving has taught me because our gracious God has not wasted the pain.  Ann Judson said it well: "God has taught us by afflictions what we would not learn by mercies."  The lessons that I am learning (still in the present tense) couldn't be learned any other way.

First, Mary's death has brought me to a deeper level of worship before God; a level that is difficult to put into words.  It's this tension in my heart of hurting so badly that I want to scream, and yet in the midst of that, knowing that the God of the universe is wise enough to use this inexpressible pain for good.  Really, Lord?  You are wise enough to take away a young mom from her kids and have that be what is best?  He has brought me to the realization that when He does things that don't make sense to me--even if they're painful--He is even more worthy of praise because He is a God who can use even pain and suffering for good.  The deep assurance my heart has when I think about that is overwhelming; wow--that is the God that loves me and has pursued me and won my heart.  He is that mighty and good and wise.  He loves His children enough to see them go through heart-wrenching pain to accomplish His purposes in their lives.  And along with this, I have seen how vital it is to base my understanding of who God is in Scripture, not on circumstances.  If I were to try to describe God based on what's happening right now, I wouldn't believe that He is good and wise and loving; but, because I already know that He is those things based on what the unchanging Truth of his Word tells me, I am brought to an even deeper sense of worship because I know that He is who He says He is even in the midst of this life-shattering suffering.

Second, I have seen the comfort of God in ways that I never would have seen without the circumstances before me.  It's not merely the comfort that He's provided for my heart--though that has been evident--it is the comfort I've seen him bring to those hurting the most.  I've seen Him comfort Mary's kids and husband and my sister in ways that are inexpressible.  To sit next to a seven-year-old that has just lost his mom as he tells you that, yes it is painful and difficult, but that God has given him help to get through it is something that speaks volumes of God's character and faithfulness in ways that little else can.  I have seen 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 in more tangible ways than I could have ever imagined:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,

the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, 

who comforts us in all our affliction,

so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, 

with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 

For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings,

so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.

I love the last part of that passage--through Christ.  The only reason any of us are able to experience this comfort at all is because of the cross of Jesus Christ.  He suffered in the most brutal and horrific way imaginable so that when we experience suffering, we might be able to experience the most unimaginable comfort--a comfort that is directly from God himself; the God who created us and knows our hearts more intimately than we do comforts us in the ways we need it most during times when our hurt is greatest.

Finally, I can't express what a difference eternity makes; not only the promise that Mary is no longer hurting and is in the presence of her Savior, but the hope that this world isn't the end--there's a better, more perfect world to come where I can worship this good and worthy God free of sin, seeing Him clearly as He is, FOREVER.  Every single day as I look at Mary's kids, my heart breaks for them because their lives will never be the same; things will never get "back to normal."  Their mom isn't here and no matter how I look at it, that is difficult to swallow.  But, if I didn't have the promise of heaven and the knowledge that this life on earth is temporary, it would be impossible to move on from that point.  But, there is an end to the dark.  Heaven awaits.  And, as painful as this season is, I never want to lose this sense of desperation and urgency for eternity that has come through all of this.  Even if God grants me 90 years of life, my time here is a vapor compared to the eternal life in His presence that is to come.  And, as Mary's little seven-year-old prayed the other night, "Help me to go see Mommy in heaven soon," I want that to always be true; that no matter how much longer we are here on earth, the day when we meet our Savior face-to-face would seem "soon."    

Through afflictions, He's teaching me what I would never learn through mercies.  Does it still hurt?  More than I can express.  Would I rather learn these lessons some other way?  Absolutely.  Do I trust the wisdom and goodness of my Heavenly Father?  More deeply than I ever have before; I have no other option.  So, we cry and we grieve and we ache, but we have HOPE that runs deep and follow a God "with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change." (James 1:17)  He is good and loving in ALL that He does and He is enough.