When the Going Gets Rough: Part 1

I've had a pretty easy life, or so I've often thought.  I don't mean that I was spoiled as a child or that I never had to work for things, but I grew up in a very stable home.  I had loving and supportive parents, and all my needs (and most of my wants) were provided for. I've always had good health.  I never struggled making friends or getting good grades, and I didn't have to go into debt over my college education.  I didn't experience the death of a close family member until I was in my twenties. Even our family dog survived to a ripe old age! 

I graduated from college with a teaching job all lined up.  I was ready to travel the world.  And so I did for the next three years--working hard but also making the most of my time off.  I experienced a lot of life and learned about the world and about myself in the process.  And then I met a wonderful man: a smart, handsome, kind, adventurous, and hardworking man.  And the years of waiting for "Mr. Right" suddenly didn't seem like such a hardship after all.  They had been an opportunity for independence and self-discovery, and God had saved the best for me, bringing him into my life at just the right time. So I moved and found a teaching job.  He finished medical school and applied for residencies.  We got engaged, married, and started life together with new career opportunities. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind, perhaps I've always realized that the trajectory of my life could change, that tragedy could strike or hard times ensue. As Christians we are warned to expect suffering.  Indeed, we're commanded to take up our cross and follow Jesus (Math. 10:38). But what does it mean to bear a cross?  And what does it look like to know "the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings" (Phil. 3:10)? Quite in contrast to the Gospel, as a society, we do all that we can do avoid suffering. Even within the Church, we have this idea--perhaps unspoken--that righteous living and good choices will result in health, happiness, and prosperity.  And so it has always been in my own life: I've attributed my successes to God's (technically unwarranted) favor and (more truthfully) my own hard work and smart decisions.

So when my plans spun out of control a few years ago, it came as a surprise.  It felt unmerited, and I did not appreciate the learning opportunities afforded by suffering.  Note: If you have conceived easily and delivered healthy, full-term babies, it is a blessing.  You may think of it as smart family planning, but really, it's just God's grace.  If you have, like us, done everything right, read the parenting books, been perfectly compliant patients, taken the tips (even the well-intentioned but ridiculous ones), and prayed without ceasing for a child, you have learned the hard way that control is, ultimately, not in our hands.  God alone is the author of life and keeper of plans. He is sovereign, and in his sovereignty he uses suffering to mold us, grow us, and make us fully his.

I think it's stunning that even Jesus had to learn obedience from suffering (Heb. 5:8).  He was perfected through suffering. Unlike Jesus who bore his suffering without a word in his own defense, I haven't been a very willing student in the school of suffering. I have resented the fact that I have to take this course, and I can't believe it's lasted this long. I'm pretty sure I should have tested out; after all, I've been such a good person (ahem). There are, however, lessons to learn which, undeniably, could not have been taught in other ways:

• Full appreciation for the miracle of conception and life.  I will never take children--and the opportunity to bear them and raise them--for granted. 
• God's sovereignty and human frailty: Indeed, "In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps." Do we really understand this until God has rearranged our course?
• The blessing of a godly husband. Our marriage has been tested by suffering and strengthened in ways I would not have believed possible. My husband has learned how to turn our hearts and minds to scripture, and I know that we will be better parents someday because of it.
• Jesus' identification with us in our suffering. I find it reassuring to remember that even Jesus resisted suffering.  He found it painful and asked that it be taken from him. But he submitted to the Father's will and endured suffering--and so can we in his strength. In the midst of the hurt though, it's comforting to know that he meets us there.
• The identification with others in their suffering.  Not many people escape suffering, but some seem to get more than their fair share. How do we identify with their pain unless we've experienced it? We are given stories in order to comfort others in their suffering.
• How to wait upon the Lord. Waiting is hard! Especially when your friends, sisters-in-law, and the fifteen year-old-girl who lives next door are all pregnant...and pregnant again. You're just waiting for the next announcement and wondering when, if ever, it will be your turn. We know that "with the LORD, a thousand years are like a day" (2 Peter 3:8) and that God allowed Sarah to conceive at 100 years old, but we don't want to wait that long.  Here's the bottom line: God holds time in his hand, and when we actively wait on him, we are seeking him, serving others, and preparing the soil of our hearts and lives for the things he's going to plant soon and very soon.
• God's amazing plans for those who wait. The children born of unusual circumstances and years of waiting are special.  We see it over and over again in scripture: Isaac, Jacob and Esau, Samuel, John, Jesus... Their stories began long before their conceptions, in the longing hearts of their parents and the careful design of the Father who had planned just the right child for just the right time.