The Experience of Suffering
There Sarah was on the porch with her back leaning against the window reading an old book. She waved and patiently waited for me to join her on the porch.
As the screen door cracked open I said “So which is worse? Not getting what you want or getting what you want and then getting it taken from you?” as I handed her a hot cup of tea. The trees began dancing in the wind, reminding me of their design to withstand an unseen force with grace. I exhaled hoping for a black and white answer in a world full of gray.
“Nature’s ability to adapt to the hardships each season presents is wild isn’t it?” She said, bouncing her tea bag in and out of her cup…
After a long pause, she looked at me and said “The question is not which is worse but which way will you turn?”
She stood up and lifted her head to the sky, “To lean into the full experience of being human is to lean into the full experience of suffering… Whether it be a stagnant dream or a stolen one, when the wound is exposed, where will you bleed?”
Because suffering is the texture of life. It’s layered and complicated and pure and messy and confusing. It’s the navigation system in seasons of defeat yet it's the bridge to true victory. It’s the very fuel that drove Jesus to the cross.
I am learning that a surrendered life is a suffering life… but in that, a suffering life that chooses to abide. The way a branch abides by the vine. I can’t hold Jesus close apart from holding His convictions close too. And as much as I wish that the suffering moments were black-and-white and dopamine-driven experiences, they are not… they are obedient-driven experiences. And maybe I won’t instantly see or feel the fruit of leaning into Him when it feels unbearable but maybe that’s why they say wine tastes better with age… And if that means my life could produce a vintage for my children’s children to feast on then I think it will be worth it.
It was quiet for a few minutes then she whispered, “You can trust Him with your suffering.” With tears streaming down my face I looked at her and knew that was the truest thing she had ever said.