Treasure

Tears flowed freely down my face. Pain that had been locked deep in my heart had found a way to be spoken for and was making itself known. I cradled someone else’s story that a dear friend had recommended in my hands and felt for the first time in a long time that I was understood. God was graciously reaching through the words on a page saying, “I see you right where you are. You are full of grief and anger and that does not scare me away. I am pursuing you.” 

A few days prior, my mom had encouraged, “Sweetie, God is strong enough to carry all your anger and all your grief. Pour it all out on him.” I just didn’t seem to know how. Until this moment. 

This book, “Every Bitter Thing is Sweet” was about Sara’s pain and the “

treasures she had found in the dark places (Isaiah 45:3) Her grief is different to mine, however, grief is grief and the themes are mostly the same. Her story was vulnerable and raw yet beautifully wrapped in a deep relationship with God that was cultivated from a place of pain. 

At this time in my life I had not figured out how to give grief space to do a work in my heart. I didn’t understand that God wanted to meet me in that dark place. All I knew was grief was uncomfortable and awkward, reserved for death and no one had died. All I had known was that grief had time restraints and must be made tidy. But grief is messy. It cannot be planned or packaged or persuaded. “Grief is like the tide. It comes and it goes and there is no controlling it” (paraphrased) Sara wrote. 

Something inside me broke that had been struggling to hold all together. I had never cried that hard in my life. I cried and cried and cried. I cried over my broken child. I cried over how disability was changing our lives in a way I could have never predicted. I cried over the pain of God not healing Finley and I cried over how angry I felt at God for that. I cried over how exhausted I was from years of not sleeping, I cried over missing my older 3 children and knowing I was missing out on their lives because Finley needed so much of my attention. I cried over how I felt like all the hours of therapy were such a waste. 

I cried and cried and cried, pouring at all that I could to God, mouthing words of desperation and despair and depression to Him who is “close to the broken hearted and saves those crushed in spirit”, to Him who says I “would be crushed on every side but not broken,” to Him who “binds up the broken hearted” to Him who “is my portion…therefore I will hope in him.”

(Ps 34:18, 2 Cor 4:8, Is 61:1, Lam 3:24) 

I wish I could tell you that from that day on I was great. I wish I could say, “ have a one time cry-sesh with Jesus and you will be good to go!” But I can’t. This was the beginning of a long journey that actually may never end.

What I can tell you is that God is big enough for your pain. He knows every thought and every feeling we have and he welcomes all of our heart, body, mind and soul into authentic, vulnerable, safe relationship with Him. He welcomes us as we are. He does not have the harsh timelines we hold for ourselves. He is not held by time. He holds time. He holds us. He is comfortable with grief, he himself has experienced more grief than any human. He cares deeply about each of us. He “keeps track of all my sorrows and puts all my tears in (his) bottle.” Psalm 56:8 

There are treasures you will find if you walk with him through this valley, however long that may take. Treasures of peace and contentment in the midst of pain and grief, treasures of compassion and joy despite heartache and brokenness. He makes all things new.