Suffering sucks God.
Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, 4 and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, 5 and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.
It sucks, God. I hate it, even though I know that You will use it. I know what Your word says about suffering. I know Jesus suffered. I know David suffered. I know the Apostles suffered. Paul suffered. And God, I am suffering.
I’m tired from fighting. It takes so much energy to cope with physical pain. And, Lord, I feel like I’ve dealt with crisis after crisis for most of my life. I know that lots of people suffer, God, and I am no better or worse than anyone else. But right now this is about me and You. And I hurt, God.
It’s not even just the physical pain, Lord. Sometimes, I really think I can live with that stuff. But the emotional pain is equally hard. It’s exhausting. Therapy has brought so many horrible things to the surface.
It’s stuff I buried. Stuff I didn’t want to see again. Even though it’s festered and rotted inside of me. Even though it has slowly been killing me, I still feel like it’s too hard to get it out sometimes.
You showed me a vision of Your steady hand carefully cutting out the dead flesh within me. Precision isn’t even a good enough word for what You showed me You were doing in my heart. But it hurts, God! It hurts so bad.
Then there’s all the physical junk. My knees hurt. I can barely walk. And I feel like I’m a breath away from being stuck in my wheelchair again. Why did You allow the doctor to take away my pain meds and my arthritis meds? I know the medical reasons, God. I even know the spiritual reasons. It draws me closer to You. It helps me have compassion and empathy for others. It teaches me patience. It shows me a deeper level of Your faithfulness and compassion.
But the process sucks.
I keep thinking about Jesus in the Garden. He had a serious “it sucks” conversation with You that night. What He was facing was beyond horrific. I can’t even imagine. You know, though, God. You know my hurt, my frustration and my fear. But like Jesus said, “Not my will, but Yours, Father.” Help me with that, would ya?
I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what’s next. I’m afraid of what pain I may have in my future. I’m afraid of what harder suffering may lie ahead. I know a lot of people are thinking right now that You didn’t give me a spirit of fear, and believe me, I know it! But I want to keep things real, God. Only when I acknowledge my fear can I give it to You to turn to courage.
You make strength from my weakness, God, and I am so weak. Take my weakness. Take my fear. Take my pain and my suffering and my grief and my tears. Take them and use them for Your glory God. Your glory and Your Kingdom are the only things that keep me going.
Father, my suffering is bringing more and more death to myself and my wickedness. My suffering has brought me perseverance in You. My pain has taught me endurance. It’s built my character. It’s done all the things that You said it would.
You are faithful God. My suffering builds my hope in You. And hope doesn’t suck at all.
12 Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. 13 But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed.
1 Peter 4:12-13
For my take on depression, see my post: Having A Broken Spirit Sucks