In the midst of unspeakable tragedy, there begins the floodgates of memories—the beautifully painful memories of those we did not have enough time with, whose lives were cut short, but also memories to create anew. A friend’s recent Facebook post captured my attention about the cycle, brevity, and finality of life, and how quickly life can be altered. How beautifully it can be created, and how it can be violently taken away:

“All in this weekend, I have a baby shower, wedding, BBQ with church friends, and a funeral. Very reminiscent of the cycles of life; the joy of birth, falling in love, fellowship with friends and family, and the final goodbye. You and I have one life. It’s a gift. Every moment and breath is a gift from God. Let’s celebrate life, love, and live well. It truly is a vapor.”

Life—it is beautiful. It’s a gift, a treasure, a privilege, an opportunity, a blessing and so much more. Life cannot be measured, cannot be calculated, cannot be attained. Life, itself, is grace—unmerited, undeserving God-given and God-governed favor.

I recently heard a mother’s testimony that brought me to tears as I was in complete awe of a new characteristic of Christ I had never yet comprehended. After losing her oldest son to cancer, this precious mother received a call, only a few months later, that her two sons were in a nearly fatal car accident. She and her husband took turns going from one hospital room to the other waiting for results, waiting for miracles, waiting for God to move mightily.

The testimony of  this mother shows me the unparalleled divine strength God gives to those who walk in Him, who trust in Him and believe in His saving grace. I cannot fathom the pain this dear mom was going through; I cannot imagine anything worse than pacing the halls of a hospital awaiting news regarding your sons while still deeply grieving an unbearable loss.

I have yet to meet this woman, but her testimony— the work that Christ did in and through her—has really struck me as an example of strength. In our weakness, in our humanity, in our pain, He is enduring in strength. 

Personally, I have withstood many seasons of praying fervent prayers for immediate supernatural healing only to hear the painful words of loss. These fervent prayers for healing include trusting Him entirely with the outcome. It didn’t keep me from laying my desperate heart at His feet, but hidden in my spirit was knowing I could trust whatever the outcome was.

Hearing this woman’s testimony and seeing God’s response to my own personal prayers reveal so much of the character of our God; He is the God of all comfort, the God who never leaves us nor forsakes us, and the God who strengthens us in times of peril or loss. To survive this kind of grief, to endure this kind of pain, to praise God in the very waiting room of her dying sons is nothing short of a divine, supernatural miracle, and displays a strength that surpasses anything imaginable.

C.S Lewis stated, “Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”  Pain, this side of eternity, is always designed to bring us closer to our Savior. Pain is inevitable and it simply just hurts, sometimes beyond anything we ever imagined, but that very pain is God’s megaphone.

It’s through our pain that we can hear God, we can hear His tender, loving voice quieting our desperate, grieving hearts. In pain, in affliction, in trials, in brokenness, in death, we can lift up His name, we can magnify His glory, and sing praises with our dying breath.

When the unspeakable happens, when disaster strikes, when death knocks, we cannot help but agonizingly ask, “Why?”. Why did this happen? Why did You allow this? Why wasn’t it me? Why did You let them die? Why couldn’t You heal her? Why couldn’t I save him? Why? Why Lord? Why?!

This side of heaven, we’ll never know. We’re not supposed to. We’re not designed to know the eternal…not yet. The reason, however, for all pain, for all heartache, for even death, is to always draw us to Jesus, to glorify His name, and to magnify His compassionate, merciful character. God’s goodness is wide enough to accommodate any grief.

I came to know this loving Jesus through tragedy; I met Jesus at the gravesite of a dear friend unexpectedly taken home. So many others are drawn to Christ when they hit their breaking points when they experience death’s disease and that is the reason—to know Jesus Christ. Believe me, please, knowing Jesus is worth all enduring.

Something about intimate prayer with the Father that is so absolutely beautiful is how God answers prayers within these prayers. He didn’t heal my friend in this life yet He continually answers my cries for comfort and courage to face each day without her. In my moments of deepest despair, He is right there.

The greater answer to prayer we could ever ask for is Him, His presence, and His love. Never have I felt closer to Heaven. And dare I say, it’s worth it, the agony of walking her through death and now not having her here with me, to know Him deeper, to know His joy deeper and to grasp Heaven in a way I never had before. 

“For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory”- 2 Corinthians 4:17

Light affliction. There is nothing light about the pain and grief we endure in hardship, yet it is only for a moment. In God’s eternal perspective, this pain is but for a moment. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief never ends, but it will change. It will change your heart and it will inevitably direct you to the One who bears our grief and sorrows. I

t’s been said that grief is not a sign of weakness nor a lack of faith, but it’s the price of love. When we grieve, we love—and we love so deeply because we grieve so intensely. Our nearly crushing despair, however, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. It’s a glory to grieve. That’s a very difficult truth for me to wrap my mind around. It’s a glory to grieve—because once again when we grieve, we love.

The only people who can teach us about suffering—both for the sake of our own preparations and our attempts to comfort others—are the sufferers themselves. And who suffered more than any other? Jesus Christ. And when Jesus Himself faced suffering, He reacted much like we do. He recoiled from it, asking three times if there was any other possible way. There wasn’t, and then Jesus experienced, for the first time, that most human sense of abandonment: “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”.

God did not give us words or theories or magic formulas for the problem of pain. Instead, He gave us what we need most: Himself. And this God of all grace, who called us to His more exceeding eternal weight of glory, after we’ve suffered a little while, will Himself restore us and make us strong, firm and steadfast (1 Peter 5:10).

Where is God when it hurts? Philip Yancey answers, “He has hurt and bled and cried and suffered…He is waiting, gathering the armies of good. One day He will unleash them and the world will see one last terrifying moment of suffering before the full victory is ushered in. Then, God will create for us a new, incredible world. And pain shall be no more.”

Oh, what a glorious day when He will wipe every tear from our eyes when there’ll be no more death or mourning or crying or pain (Revelation 21:4)! Until then, may we be like David and praise the Lord as long as we live. May we sing praises to our God with our dying breath— as it is well with our souls—and a glory to grieve.

I want to encourage your heart today, please don’t give up on God if He doesn’t answer your prayers how your heart so desperately desires. Please don’t distance yourself from Him. You will miss an even better gift above all other things we could ever pray for. Him. A closeness to Him that you cannot gain any other way than by being near Him, trusting Him, and remembering He always, no matter what, has the better plan. 

Please join me in prayer for those who are hurting, those who are in agonizing pain dealing with loss, and those who are pacing the halls of a hospital waiting for their miracle...

Is there space you can find today to grieve the pains of your soul? Is there a space you can find to sit with God and surrender the outcome? Where are you waiting for God in your life? What desires are you longing for? Where are the points of praise in your storm?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hannah is a twenty-something Tucson native saved by the overwhelming grace of Christ and a disciple of His Word. Hannah loves country music, camping and hiking, binge watching Gilmore Girls and traveling on spontaneous road trips. Her favorite days consist of a great cup of coffee, a good book, and enjoying monsoon thunderstorms. She longs to see young women thrive in their relationship with Jesus, knowing He always has immeasurably more in store for us.