I recently ran into some friends who were having a conversation about their frustration with issues in their lives over which they have no control. I listened as they discussed the injustices they are witness to and how there doesn’t seem to be anything they can do to make the situation better. I suppose it would have been just like any another casual conversation except that one of them went so far as to say, “You know where they’re going to find me? In the garage with my earbuds in, a good book playing, and my car running. That’s just how I feel about life sometimes. I just can’t take it anymore.” And with that simple statement the conversation went from being a simple gripe session to something much more.
If this were an isolated incident, I suppose it would be easier to shrug it off. After all, everyone has something they can complain about. I have not one, but TWO gumball trees, and my back does not like them. Not. One. Bit. But the more I listen to people, the more aware I become of how deep the wounds in our lives run. Problems with bosses and co-workers. Deep hurts over an unwanted divorce. Children with special needs where the answers aren’t simple or concise. And pain. Deep, chronic, insomniatic pain that doesn’t subside long enough for us to even catch our breath. C.S. Lewis wrote an entire book about it, “The Problem of Pain” where he discusses the intellectual problem raised by suffering. But even C.S. Lewis, that great thinker who had so many thoughts to share on the matter, had this to offer in the preface:
“For the far higher task of teaching fortitude and patience I was never fool enough to suppose myself qualified, nor have I anything to offer my readers except my conviction that when pain is to be borne, a little courage helps more than much knowledge, a little human sympathy more than much courage, and the least tincture of the love of God more than all.”
I will never forget the moment when, at 15 years old, I decided I wanted to die. We were on vacation in Colorado Springs, CO with family friends. It was supposed to be a time of rest and refreshment but I felt only rejection and pain. I was lost among the cacophony of people. I felt unimportant, unloved, and insignificant. I crawled behind one of the beds of our friends and lay down. I closed my eyes. And then I prayed for God to let me die. And I meant every single word. “Please, God. Stop my heart. I can’t bear the pain any more. I just want it to stop.” And while some will say that an overly emotional teenager is perfectly normal and that I didn’t really have serious problems, well, you weren’t there and you didn’t feel what I felt. Otherwise you wouldn’t say such a thing. That moment is etched on my brain as one of the defining moments of my life. First, because God obviously did not answer my prayer. And second, because his refusal to meet my demands caused me to wonder if he even existed, and if he cared about me at all. I figured that maybe he wanted me to suffer. And everything I had been taught about his love and grace was a lie.
“As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.” -Psalm 103:13-14
There have been many times in my life where I felt like abandoning my faith. I felt like a ship sailing through an ocean of pain with no port of call in sight. And with the waves whipping and the rain beating down, I turned away from the one who would save me. After all, the world has a lot to offer by way of distractions. But distractions are by definition, temporary. They don’t satisfy the deep longings of my soul. Food was a distraction for a long time. But it was a double edged sword because while it numbed the pain, it also made it worse. Even living a healthy lifestyle has had its pitfalls. Pride and vanity have at times jockeyed for the upper hand, but God–with his infinite patience–has always called me back with his great love and care for me. I really can’t give myself any credit for where I am because–in case you haven’t noticed–I’m kind of a goof.
So maybe you are reading this and you think I’m a religious weirdo. I’m sorry. And I hope my imperfect faith doesn’t make you uncomfortable. But maybe, just maybe you are wondering why in the world anyone would believe in God and, to go a step further, want to have a relationship with Him? Well, read on.
When I was little, I used to steal cookies from the cookie jar. I would get up in the middle of the night and carefully climb onto the kitchen counter and remove the lid. Then I would quietly remove handfuls of cookies and sneak them into my bed. I knew if my mother caught me there would be hell to pay, but I couldn’t resist the urge to take them. I wanted cookies more than a trip to Disney-world and that’s saying something. In truth, food was all I ever thought about. As I grew up, this need for fulfillment only grew stronger. The bottomless hole in my heart and stomach became ever more cavernous no matter how full my belly was. The more I ate, the more guilty and out of control I felt. I suppose that is why I hate food advertisements. For years I followed their beck and call and indulged myself with abandon. But I was never satisfied. And I am so ashamed to write all of that. So it is without a doubt significant that the only thing that has ever comforted or calmed me has been Jesus. And maybe it’s cheesy and Hallmark Hall of Famey, but it’s real for me. He is the only reason I was able to lose the weight. He gives me hope when I have none, and he fills the cobwebby places in my heart that cookies cannot touch with a love so wonderful and beautiful and pure that I know it has to be real. He soothes my troubled heart with peace I can’t really explain. And sometimes I feel like I’m so full I could just burst.
Following Jesus is a journey that is as much baffling as it is beautiful. And all someone need do is call out to him for help and he is there. Maybe not in the way we expect, but He is there.
This world is full of disappointment, sorrow and pain. It infects our lives like cancer and eats away at our hope. But when the ship is going down, and the waves are so big you are certain you will drown, remember there is a life raft you can reach out to.
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