Kintsugi

The Art of Precious Scars

Lamenting in Faith and Suffering

It’s been nine years to the month when life seemed to just bottom out. Nine years. It’s really hard to believe that nearly a decade has passed. It’s even harder to believe that I find myself here once again.

In June 2013, my family and I received the news we were really hoping to avoid. Not enough of an income meant we would lose our forever home. It was such a horrific blow. That house was the place of so many firsts for us. It was our safe place. Our memory-holder. Our home. And we could no longer call it ours. Earlier in that year, my husband had lost his job and had been unable to secure employment since then. I was working but a therapist makes peanuts so my paycheck couldn’t keep up with the monthly expenses. We were forced to wave the white flag.

I remember going through different waves of emotions. Why was this happening? Where was God? When would it end? We lost several friends during that time whom we believed were true and solid in our lives. But some people don’t like messy. And we were definitely messy during that point. On the other hand, we also discovered some friends we never really knew we had. People who walked with us in our messiness and didn’t mind getting a little dirty along the way. And we saw God. Often.

It was a very difficult time. I can remember literally counting coins in order to pay for things we needed but then out of blue, in the most difficult of moments, God provided. There were times when I wondered if we would ever feel anything other than sadness again and then God would give me a glimpse of the joy I possessed deep within because of Him. It was a long road.

But time goes on. The sun kept shining. The earth kept spinning. And we eventually found our way back to a place of normalcy. We stopped merely surviving and began living again. And we were very thankful to God, giving Him all of the glory for the successful climb out of our deep pit.

Somewhere during this past decade, we lost sight of an important lesson Jesus taught. Just because we’ve already been through a trial, that didn’t exempt us from future trials, no matter how close we walk with Jesus Christ.

In Matthew 5:45, Jesus said, “{God} makes the sun rise on both good and bad people. And he sends rain for the ones who do right and for the ones who do wrong.”

If you are anything like me, that isn’t a verse you spend a lot of time on. I mean, seriously, I’m a good person and do the right thing so God’s sun will shine on me, right? Yes, but so will the rain… and wind… and the thunder and lightning. The bad doesn’t stop just because the good is there. As Jesus said, “In the world, you will have tribulation…”

Unfortunately, I was not prepared for more tribulation in my life.

Last week, my husband’s work contract came to an abrupt end. No warning. No time to make plans. Just an ordinary Wednesday that would become a mass of chaos with one phone call. “And he sends rain for the ones who do right and for the ones who do wrong.”

Blessings surround me.

I see them.

I give thanks for them.

But… I’m angry.

I cannot count the number of times I have said to God, “I love my life. Thank you.” After the turmoil of 2013, life was pretty simple but very good. We were able to buy a home after house-hopping for a few years. It’s a cute little house nestled into some trees on a hillside. We’ve made some renovations and put lots of love into it. It’s become our home and we love it. We’ve managed to take some family trips to the coast. That’s always been my favorite getaway. We go out to eat more than we should and we buy things we definitely don’t need. But it has been a pretty simple life over these past few years.

I am a business owner and really proud of the work I do in the mental health field. Honestly, I give away a lot more than I make. I love my patients and desire to point them to God in the midst of the struggles they are in. My husband poured his heart and soul into his patients. It was a specialized practice focused completely on substance abuse treatment. His passion for it comes from his experiences surviving it. He didn’t just see his patients, he empathized with them. He listened and he gave them hope. Between the two of us, we spent most of the past few years dedicating our lives to serving God by serving his hurting world.

So the question that immediately sprung to my mind upon hearing the news was, “Why God?”

It’s too easy to get into the mindset that the bad stuff can’t touch me because we’ve already had our fair share of it. How completely vain for me to think that. What promise has God ever made that the bad stuff has a limitation? None! And yet, I was walking through life as if I was somehow immune of any further tribulation.

C. S. Lewis said, “There is no such thing as a sum of suffering, for no one suffers it. … If tribulation is a necessary element in redemption, we must anticipate that it will never cease till God sees the world to be either redeemed or no further redeemable.” (The Problem of Pain).

And there it is. Tribulation is necessary and my family is definitely not immune. But dang it, it is hard to live in the constant void of the unknown. It’s difficult to describe what it’s like. There is just a constant feeling of walking a high wire over a bottomless cliff.

“I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. My eyes grow weak with sorrow; they fail because of all my foes.” Psalm 6:6-7

For several years I cried this lament daily. I felt David’s anguish when he said, “My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night,I find no rest.” And to be honest, I’m not real thrilled about experiencing that anguish again. Unfortunately, you can’t stop this stuff from coming. And with it comes anger and even some doubt.

I may feel David’s cries of “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” and think, “I should not feel this way! I am losing my faith!”But my lament is in good company with our spiritual fathers and their faith journeys.

In the Scriptures, faith is not simply an intellectual feeling. It is the trusting of my entire being to God. At times, we all will likely experience God’s absence; and right now I certainly feel alone and confused. So doubt creeps in.

But praise be to God, doubt is not opposed to faith; despair is. When the father in Mark 9 brought his son to Jesus for healing, Jesus encouraged the father to have faith. He replied, “I do believe, help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24). Yes. That is the conflict.

Even Saint Paul tells us he was “perplexed, but not driven to despair” (2 Corinthians 4:8). In despair we give up on our relationship with God. Doubt, on the other hand, is a sign that our faith is alive and kicking; it is part of the rhythm of faith itself.

Lament is not a failure of faith, but an act of faith. We cry out directly to God because deep down we know that our relationship with God counts; it counts to us and it counts to God.

Even if I currently do not experience the closeness of God I want to feel, I believe that God does care. Even if God seems not seem to hear, I believe that God is always within shouting distance. In the Scriptures, God does not say, “Do not fear, I will take away all the pain and struggle.” Rather, He says, “You have no need to fear, since I am with you” (Genesis 26:24; Exodus 3:11-12; Matthew 14:27).

In this light, the “cursing psalms” make sense. They have often been a particular stumbling block. We need to recognize, first, that they are clearly spoken out of great pain and distress. The feelings are really in the psalms, and at times they are really in us.

God, this is the way I feel; I leave it to you. And even though God has never been known to do what I want or when I want it, I know the only way through this tribulation is to let God deal with it.

Although right now I can truly relate to many of the psalms and the anguish they spell out, almost all of the lament psalms end on a sudden turn to praise. We can’t leave that part out. It is only after we lament, after we face and express the pain and negativity and get it all out, that healing can begin. In more theological terms, we can say that it is only by facing and going through the death that we can come to new life, to resurrection.

The structure of lament tells us that it is possible to praise too soon. The psalmist takes the time to let all the pain and anger out before the praise can set in. So, today, I am not really ready to praise. But I will. I always do. He is forever faithful in his mercy and grace.

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. (2 Corinthians 4:8-10) This will be my praise. This is always my praise.

Time To Return

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Therefore, the Lord proclaims:
If you return to me, I will take you back
    and let you stand before me.
If you utter what is worthwhile,
        not what is worthless,
    you will be my spokesman.
They will turn to you,
    not you to them! — Jeremiah 15:19

Wait. What did he just say?

“If you return to me…”

Why have I never heard this verse before? And why now?

I was sitting in church, only our second visit to this particular one, and the words uttered by the pastor seemed to scream at me. “If you return to me…” It wasn’t a coincidence. I actually don’t believe in them. It was a direct word from God to the core of my soul. At that moment, those words were meant for me and me alone. I felt that a spotlight was shining down on me, calling me to once again take my rightful place as a spokesman for God. Now the answer was up to me.

“If you return to me…”

To say I can be stubborn would not be completely off base. But I didn’t really consider that I was stubborn with God. I actually thought I was rather obedient. But the light had definitely been turned on to highlight my sinful ways. The truth is, I didn’t realize I had ever left God. Clearly, I had.

I was called to ordained deacon ministry many years ago for those who may not be familiar with my backstory. Coming from the Greek word diákonos (διάκονος), my calling was to mimmick that of Phoebe and Stephen, as a messenger or servant of God.

What exactly was my calling? It was mental health counseling, specifically as a Biblical counselor. Sometimes it would be in an office setting. Other times, it would be in another country. It was often trauma-related, and always spiritual. I was mandated by God to not only share the Gospel, but to also Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. — Matthew 28:19-20 I was called to deliver the message to those in need that their healing could only come from Jesus Christ.

Because of the uniqueness of my call, God set me apart to live a higher standard, thus, ordaining me before Himself and the Church. I had absolutely no desire to be ordained. But God wouldn’t leave me alone. From the time I was a young girl, I fought with God about my life and what I would do with it. Even after obtaining my mental health license, God continued to convict me in my work. I would offer people secular tools to deal with their problems, knowing in my heart that I was denying them the one thing that could ultimately heal them. In the end, I surrendered to God, knowing the tremendous amount of pressure I would face the moment I said, “yes.” Backlash from the mental health community. Isolation from peers.But most of all, I knew what it would mean on my eternal soul.

My dear brothers and sisters, don’t be so eager to become a teacher in the church since you know that we who teach are held to a higher standard of judgment. — James 3:1

After saying yes, I felt like the world took over. As with all of human history, man and God collided. I stayed quiet as I was ushered by the local church into the pulpit rather than supported within the true nature of my calling. I began to fill a role as preacher and administrator in order to please those I admired. As a consequence, God’s desire for me as His servant took a backseat in my life. This was the reality of my existence for seven years.

But God.

Oh how precious those two words are. But God intervened when I cried out to Him to rescue me from a place I didn’t really know how to escape. Leaving the local church was awful. There is no other way to say it. But it should have been freeing. Unfortunately, I focused so much on the pain that I had no room to see the freedom. And somewhere along the way, I left God. I left Him.

I never stopped believing. I never stopped loving Him or desiring Him. But I stopped being with Him. I stopped seeing Him in my life. He was there but kept at a distance. All the while, my mental health practice was growing.

I would have patients tell me that God spoke to them through me and still I didn’t reach to Him. I witnessed miraculous healing from traumas and grief. I heard many stories of newfound faith after working with me. And still, I neglected Him.

The truth be told, I was living out my true calling while ignoring the strength of my savior. No wonder I was so tired all of the time. No wonder I was so empty.

If you return to me, Janean…

So there I was, sitting in a new church and all eyes were on me as the Lord called me out. Okay, maybe the eyes of those within the building weren’t on me but I can tell you that the angels were collectively holding their breath as they awaited my answer.

So don’t be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord, or of me his prisoner. Instead, share in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God. — 2 Timothy 1:8

There it was. The mandate from God, placed on my heart. It was time to pick it back up obediently and be as Christ commanded me to be. I am called as a deacon in the Church. I am to work alongside those suffering in this temporary world, pointing them to the salvation promised by Jesus Christ. I am to sacrifice my comforts, my wants, and my will for His alone. I am to share in the suffering of others for the sake of the gospel, relying on the power of God. What about you? God calls each of us in very unique and intentional ways. We don’t get to pick and choose how we are to serve. God chooses for us. Are you obedient? Or, are you ready to return to Him?

But the Lord stood by me and gave me strength, so that the entire message would be preached through me and so all the nations could hear it. — 2 Timothy 4:17

If we don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist

I read an article recently by Rev. Josh Moody about pain and the church. It’s astonishing how many people … good-hearted Christians … who have been hurt by or who have hurt other church folk. It really makes you realize that the brokenness within each person doesn’t miraculously heal by sitting in a pew. I actually think church hurt is the most traumatic pain a Christian might go through outside of a death of a loved one. And yet, we don’t talk about it. Ever.

How many times have you noticed a fellow church member’s continued absence? If you sit near them, you are much more likely to notice momentarily. But did you reach out to them? Did you let them know they were missed? It’s not something we typically do. That vacant seat is more than likely empty because of some type of church hurt. And yet, we don’t talk about it.

Healing from a trauma of any kind is a slow process. It takes time, intentionality, and lots of prayer. But church trauma is different because it usually surrounds a betrayal or rejection of the very people who are supposed to walk in all the shadows with you. They are the ones you’re supposed to lean on when the rest of the world breaks your heart. So, when you get hurt by the church, you become a leper, outcast and alone to suffer and beg for the scraps of pity that are thrown your way.

This morning I had some serious wounds re-opened. And it stinks! I cried. I got mad. My heart rate shot up and my hands shook. I thought of words I won’t repeat. But here’s what I didn’t do. Pray.

In the moment of my pain, I fell right back into the pit of despair without grabbing onto the only absolute lifeline — God.

All through scripture, we read about ordinary people in the midst of deep pain. It is so easy to think of these stories as just stories. But these stories are our stories, too! And they give us a blueprint as to how to navigate through life. Even the messiness of church.

“Most of the writing in the New Testament about how to live in a church exists because the church has never been perfect. Most, if not all, of the letters were written to solve problems in the church:

  • Galatians to solve legalism (Galatians 1:6–7, 3:1–3, 4:9, 5:1).
  • Colossians to solve heresy (Colossians 2:4, 8).
  • 2 Timothy to solve tension in succession (2 Timothy 4:9–16).
  • Philippians to solve conflict and selfish ambition (Philippians 2:3–22). 
  • 1 and 2 Corinthians to solve a whole host of problems centered around the issues of human pride in gifting and speaking that led to loveless and arrogant religious activity. 

And that’s not even to mention the letters to the churches in Revelation (chapters 2–3), one of which is so unhealthy, it makes Jesus want to vomit (Revelation 3:16).” (Moody, 2015)

It might not be something we want to talk about but if scripture addresses it, it must be pretty important to God. And if it’s important to God, we should find it important, too.

In Moody’s article, he gives us three steps to consider taking when we’ve experienced hurt within the church. This hurt can come from a pastor or other church leaders, members, sister churches, even visitors. It can come in the form of an off-the-cuff comment, an ill-placed joke, an anonymous letter, gossip, avoidance, lying, and straight-in-your-face verbal assaults. Sometimes hurt is intentional but other times, it happens and no one is aware except for the victim. Regardless of where the hurt comes from or how it happened, there are some good steps to follow to begin to heal from the grief.

1. Stay in God’s manual for our grief.

Unashamedly, unshakably, and unreservedly draw your hope for life and healing from the teaching of the Bible. The more we are centered on God’s truth spoken in love (Ephesians 4:1–16), the more we will grow up into maturity and the more resources we’ll have at our disposal to heal from hurt ourselves and to avoid hurting one another.

The temptation will be to avoid God’s word. But keep reading the Bible, even if for just a few minutes each day. It’s like eating. What counts is every single day getting what we need to get through that day. Knowing God’s word will help us as we process hurt and find truth to satisfy and guide us.

2. Pursue the holiness you hope for in others.

Passionately, sacrificially, and deliberately persevere in pursuing Christ-like discipleship. When you’re faced with betrayal or disappointment, it will require perseverance — supernatural perseverance. Learn. Grow. Forgive. Repent. Repent some more. Fight the good fight. Urge each other on. Do not give up meeting together. Stay on the path of discipleship, knowing it will be rugged at times. Trust that the good work God is doing in you and in other believers around you will ultimately be for the good of all who believe in him.

3. Trust that love will eventually prevail.

Love anyway. It seems impossible in the moment, but it’s the call of every Christian in every situation. In the end, only love will abide (1 Corinthians 13:13). And without love, our lives will be meaningless and unfruitful (1 Corinthians 13:1–3). Love covers a multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8). Therefore, the wisest and safest way forward is always love. Love as if your life depends on it.

To love someone is to seek his best. I can love someone without even liking him. I can find someone frustrating, but still genuinely and truly want what is best for him. Love does not mean avoiding tough conversations or life-on-life accountability, but doing those sorts of things from a loving, humble, gracious, and patient position which is from a mind and heart like Christ’s.

Jesus said you could tell his disciples by how they love one another (John 13:35), and so we who are loved by him love each other in turn — even through the darkest, most difficult days. (Moody, 2015)

It took me a bit to get back into God’s word. I was genuinely angry at God for allowing my pain to happen. Let’s be honest, we all love the free will God gives us until we experience pain. Then we want Him to fix it. But that’s not how it works. He gives us the ability to fix our own situations by leaning upon Him and His word.

By not staying in God’s word for a while, I was unable to pursue holiness as defined by Jesus Christ. I was completely parched yet refusing to drink the living water. You can’t live your life for Christ when you aren’t filling your life up with Christ.

But loving those who hurt me… that I did. And it’s because I loved them and still love them that the hurt reopened today. Unlike a year ago, however, I’m grateful for the love I have for the gossips, the dividers, the rejectors, and the silencers. I’m grateful because we are all broken, sinful people. And if I can still love with all of my heart someone who hurt me, then that means that I can be loved, too.

A year ago, I wondered if I’d ever step foot in a church again where I would be able to take down some of the wall I have built around my heart. Thankfully, I’m finding that place again.

“I am aware of the many ways the Church has failed me, and I have failed her. Yet I claim this Church as mine. She is my mother; my home. A broken home, yes! Broken because you and I are broken.” — Sr. Macrina Wiederkehr, OSB

Moody, Josh. “Help in Overcoming Church Hurt.” Desiring God, Desiring God Foundation, 1 Sept. 2015, http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/help-in-overcoming-church-hurt.

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