When Suffering Comes Blow by Blow by Blow (and How to Help)

This post was written a few months ago and has appeared on the New Growth Press blog as well as Key Life.

“Some people just seem to get a larger dose of suffering.” Ashley was sitting in the passenger seat as we drove away from a day in the city taking in a Frida Khalo exhibit, a little giddy about our brief reprieve from pandemic lockdowns. She was raised by an addict, one whose addiction would take her away from my friend just as she hit adulthood. Ashley has had plenty of her own suffering, much of it borne from a childhood of harshness and abandonment.

Later that evening I thought about what she said, weighing and measuring my own life. Unlike Ashley, my childhood was marked by happiness. Of course there was conflict, but there was also plenty of support and opportunity, and we never worried about a meal or who would drive us to baseball practice. The first half of my marriage was like that, too.

I couldn’t feel the suffering of others because I hadn’t really experienced it myself. God has given empaths that ability, but that was not me. I was blissfully unaware and honestly, I didn’t care. Easier to stick my head in the sand of my privilege.

And yet, “Some people seem to get a larger dose of suffering” could be the byline for the last decade-plus of our lives here:

-Our 7-week-old contracted a virus and lives with permanent brain damage

-I ran over our 5-year-old in our driveway. She survived but lives with debilitating anxiety

-Our 8-year-old’s appendix ruptured, sent her into septic shock, and landed her in the ICU for three weeks

-Our adult son saw his engagement blow up days before the wedding, marking a psychotic break that led to his bipolar diagnosis and adjusting to a life of mental health struggles

-We made what we believed was a wise and compassionate decision, but it was misunderstood by family and friends alike, starting panic attacks for me and uncharacteristic depression for my husband

-My husband was diagnosed with a nasal tumor that was precariously attached to his cribriform plate, between brain and nose. Surgery and post-care become our norm. As of this writing, the tumor is once again present, and surgery is once again scheduled

-Another adult son complained of a migraine, only to become unresponsive. He was diagnosed in the ER with a brain tumor that ruptured and required emergency surgery. He then contracted meningitis and was quarantined

-This week, my beloved brother has lost his five-year battle with cancer

It’s a lot.

After nearly two years of a pandemic that has thrown all of our lives into an agitated dither, many of us are suffering blow by blow by blow. How are we to face it? What can we do to allow Christ to work in us as we manage the day-to-day living that life continues to require of us, even in the midst of circumstances that threaten to knock us flat? I can offer a few things to consider:

1. There is no wrong way to do this. Take a bath or don’t. Turn off the TV or don’t. Make space in your life to say no to what you don’t need and yes to what you do.
2. Remember that rarely do others understand what you need. Show them grace.
3. People also don’t know what to say. Show them grace.
4. Sometimes showing people grace means asking them to give you space. 

You can also recognize that what you are experiencing is suffering. Go ahead and name it so. Tell God how blindsided/stunned/frustrated/angry/devastated you are, because we cannot act as if he doesn’t already know. If we are at all familiar with the Bible, we have to admit that Christ came for the suffering and to suffer himself on our behalf. It is this suffering life to which we are called, but we cannot embrace its grace until we recognize that the Bible, Christ’s life, and ours in discipleship is a life called to pain and brokenness. God triumphs, though. This earth isn’t heaven.

Remember what I wrote earlier about not being able to feel the suffering of others because I hadn’t experienced suffering myself? You might be able to relate to that. It’s okay. We won’t always know what to say or do to help, but we can certainly grieve with those who grieve. 

Do you find yourself unsure of what to do or say? How can you help someone who is suffering blow by blow by blow?

-Be gentle.
-Offer a listening ear.
-Send a note of encouragement.
-Send a meal.
-Don’t expect them to do what you think they should.
-Allow them to deal with their suffering in the way that is best for them, and only intervene if you sense danger.

The beautiful truth about suffering is that when we are experiencing the shattering of our expectations, God meets us right in the midst of every bit of it. The Bible has much to say about our troubles and tribulations, but it does not leave us stranded there. We have the hope of the living God who lovingly lets us know, “And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.” 1 Peter 5:10, CSB

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When the Church Can't Meet Your Needs

Let’s not talk about what a difficult year this has been. Instead, let’s recall how difficult life and choices often were before we hit pandemics and political issues. Our trials and challenges serve to amplify our discomfort and can be an impetus for personal change, and in that way, both the pandemic and the politics have been useful.

What if the church no longer meets your needs? For many Christians in America, this is a valid and timely question. You and I both know the variables that lead to believing the church can’t be what it needs to be anymore, so, in order to shed light on a path forward, I’ve identified four points on which to reflect.

Reflections for When the Church Can’t Meet Your Needs

1. Identify your needs.

   Are your perceived needs something that are truly needed for spiritual growth, health, clarity, or rest?

   It is an auspicious practice to identify and clarify what our actual needs may be. Keep in mind that what you may need in this season is potentially not a necessity for your spouse, children, or others with whom you are in a close relationship. If 30 years of marriage have taught me anything, it’s that my needs are rarely in sync with those in my close circle and that sometimes I extend myself for them and at other times, they have extended themselves for me.

2. Ask yourself honest questions.

   Are my perceived needs really just preferences or desires? For example, a basic human need is readily accessible and healthy food, while a preference or desire is grilled chicken and a chocolate shake.

   Can these needs be met by the people in your life? The people in your church? Our deep inner needs aren't met by people. God often uses people as a conduit to providing what we need, but people are not the ultimate provisioner. Are we expecting people to do what only God can?

   The truth is, Jesus Christ is the place to start. The gospel meets the felt need. God himself ultimately satisfies the longing. If we’re just missing what we have always had in our western churches (i.e., cultural church paradigms as opposed to worship however God provides it for us), then we’re really longing for grilled chicken and chocolate shakes, not readily accessible and healthy food.

3. Provide yourself with honest answers.

   So, of course, it follows that if I'm looking to my church to meet my needs, I will not get the answers to my questions. If I'm expecting Jesus to meet my needs instead, I will find a path to deep, lasting change and fulfillment. That line of thinking leads to perhaps a more complex conundrum with which we must wrestle: Do I believe that “my God shall supply all my needs according to his riches in glory?”

   The Philippian church was encouraged to understand that their way of doing church wasn’t the answer, their church people weren’t the answer, their orthodoxy, orthopraxy, and theology weren’t the answer. Only God—God alone—would meet their needs. Certainly, Paul knew this personally as he wrote his letter to that church from a prison cell.

4. Be pliable.

   What if God means to meet our needs in ways we never could have anticipated?

   If you've been a follower of Jesus Christ for any amount of significant time, you might assume I'm being ironic. Because it's true, isn't it? Just remove the question mark: God means to meet our needs in ways we never could have anticipated. And then go ask anyone who has ever had to “do church” in a way that doesn’t look like America.

   Pliability as it relates to church choices and life may mean you’re being led away from what you’ve always known to be church. And what if that change means you are about to find out what the fullness of following Jesus really looks like?

My story of church life and culture may be different from yours in setting, characters, arc, and plot. I did the math recently and realized that the church I’ve been a part of for the past decade is the 17th church I’ve been involved in over the course of my life. 17th! That exposure to many different church norms might be very different from your experience.

Still, there is some reason you have had to drop your expectations for church, and it can no longer meet your needs at this time. Christian, this is more than okay. It is acceptable and right and may be exactly what God has for you in this moment. Can you identify your real need and allow God to do his work?

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Why 2020 and 2021 Matter for You and the Rest of the World

Someone wise once told me, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” I bet someone wise once told you that, too. Therein lies the conundrum that has been my writing life in the year 2020: I just haven’t had a whole lot of anything nice to say.

That’s not the whole truth, though, because my brain houses more introductory paragraphs than I can reasonably catalog. The truth has more to do with the fact that what I have to say—nice or otherwise—seems insignificant. Boy, aren’t you just dying to hear what I have to say now?

For the most part, my observations of this year and this spiritual path and of life in general are being written by other, shinier authors. People with broader audiences and lovelier platforms. I actually began writing a new book several years ago that I was absolutely certain God had whispered in my ear only to have it rejected by my previous publisher. They probably knew then what I did not yet: a big-name gal with books in her wake debuted a big-name book on the exact same topic a few months after I submitted mine to the publishing house.

I wonder, then, in a world filled with platforms for the taking, why it matters what I have to say.

This is false, actually. This line of thinking that tells me my voice doesn’t matter because it only reaches a few who want to hear it is the product of a country and culture that produces industries that revere the words of some and ignore the words of others, simply because there is a bottom line to keep an eye on. And it’s false.

It’s false because some of the well-known people we listen to aren’t saying anything new. It’s false because we think they have more important things to say because they are attractive and trendy or loud and powerful. It’s false because it ignores the call that God has whispered into the ears of those who may only have one person who cares what they say. That one person matters, as does the passion and drive God has given to the author.

Turns out, I do have something nice to say, and maybe you’re the one who needs to hear it today. You matter. Your call, your passion, your skills, your strengths, your talents—it all matters.

History is stacked with the stories of those who lived and died in obscurity, only to have their works resurrected and revered for centuries well beyond their own lifetimes. We who love books and words would be bereft without the prose of Emily Dickinson, but of the nearly 1800 poems she wrote, fewer than a dozen were actually published during her lifetime. We can hardly say her writing didn’t matter.

Henry David Thoreau, Johann Sebastian Bach, Franz Kafka, Herman Melville, Edgar Allen Poe . . . their works were profound and larger than life, but they weren’t deemed significant enough to make a mark during their own lifetimes. Stories like these always make me pause and consider the weight of my own words. Who might stand to gain if I open my mouth or get the introductory paragraphs out of my brain and into the world?

Who might need to hear your words or music, your passion to help the disenfranchised, your soothing compassion, your comforting or innovative cooking, your brilliant brainstorming, your splashes of color and form?

What we are called to matters in years of despair and years of celebration. Maybe just one ear will hear our truths, but we cannot say that the one ear doesn’t matter.

Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. Matthew 10:31

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