It's no secret that my year has been full of difficulty physically, mentally, and emotionally. Grief has become a familiar friend. The past several months have been full of processing as I have tried to make sense of my life through a haze of anger and tears.
This week I found my heart practically screaming at God, "This isn't the story I wanted!"
I sat in the silence for a moment before I heard the soft reply:
This isn't your story, Joanna.
I felt a mixture of overwhelm and relief. I was reminded that my purpose involves a much bigger story than just myself.
I think pain often gives us tunnel vision. For example, when I broke my leg this summer I was unable to think about a single thing other than how much the pain was excruciating. I have found that this is also true emotionally. When we are wounded, our world shrinks. The purpose of this phenomenon is to bring our attention to something that needs tending, healing, and repairing. Unfortunately, it can cause us to lose sight of all the other complexities of life.
Maybe you find yourself in a similar season. Is the pain all-consuming? Has grief tainted your life? Are you drowning in your own experience, struggle, or wound? You are not alone.
Several truths have become my anthem recently:
1) This is not my story.
I am part of God's story. That doesn't mean I dismiss my experience or feelings, it means that I was never designed to be alone. I was designed to live my life intertwined with the Holy Spirit and His plans for me. (Which....newsflash: are often NOT what I would have planned for myself). My soul thirsts for something greater than what I can produce on my own. I long to be part of something bigger. I am assigned specific gifts meant to advance God's redemptive story of love, kindness, justice, peace, and healing. That's the story that I want.
2) When my faith is weak, I lean into the faith of others.
I am not an island. I need community to survive a season of intense struggle. When all I can see and feel is my pain, I need to allow those around me to remind me that there is more. I need to receive your prayers and reminders of truth. When I can't access trust in the goodness of God, I am desperate for you to believe it for me. When I don't feel like God loves me anymore, I can rest in His love residing in you.
3) The content of my story does not decrease my value.
This is a hard truth for me to accept. I base so much of my value on my performance in life. When I am struggling or hurting or weak - I feel worthless. God has been reminding me that I am loved and valued regardless of my actions or experiences. It's true, this isn't the story I wanted. This year I have felt less valuable because of my wounds and needs. I keep having to return to the truth of my unconditional worth over and over again. If you can relate, I want you to know that regardless of what you have done or experienced or suffered, God loves you infinitely and you cannot change His mind.
4) Life often requires a fight.
In broken-leg-recovery-land, I am pushing my limits. It hurts and it's uncomfortable and my body doesn't want to do it. But this is a necessary stage in healing. The muscles around my ankle and leg have atrophied during the past few months and now I am demanding them to work again. In a way, I am fighting to regain strength - often gritting my teeth in frustration. I believe this is true in other areas too. Treating my depression requires me to get out of bed each day and choose activities that will help my brain. One of the ways I have engaged in the fight for my spiritual health is to speak the truth over myself even when I feel like collapsing into the lies. Sometimes I feel like I'm fighting tooth and nail to hold onto what matters most to me.
5) There is healing found in worship.
Offering worship to God while I am in pain feels like a sacrifice, but it's exactly what my soul needs. Reminding my soul of who God is is a powerful antidote and weapon against doubt, fear, and discouragement. Praise can be challenging, but we do it because He is worthy and we are bringing our soul into alignment with His glory. In a season of pain, it often feels like breaking up scar tissue in physical therapy. It's necessary, but it's not comfortable.
6) There is authentic hope for the story's ending.
Pain is an indicator that something is wrong...and there are a lot of things wrong with this world. Pain is a reminder that we were meant for something better. Something whole. Something perfect. As a Christian, I cling to the hope that there will be a day when all things are made right. All wounds will be healed. All pain and grief will cease. This truth is a comfort to me on the days that it feels like the darkness will last forever.
I want to conclude by saying that it is okay to grieve the story that you wanted. It's okay
to feel disappointed, hurt, and even angry. The journey I am on is not one I ever would have chosen. I'm not thankful for my mental health struggles. I'm not thankful for my broken leg. I'm not thankful for pain in relationships. I'm not thankful to be missing work.
But I am thankful that I am not alone in this story. I can rest in the truth that my life is part of something bigger and more beautiful than I could ever produce on my own. And I can rest in the all-consuming love of God.
