Chapter One: Suffering 101

School of Hard Knocks and Hard Answers

“He who God will use greatly, He will wound deeply.” That was the single, most powerful and true statement my father ever said to me. It was also the most startling and fear-provoking statement he ever made to me.
Other girls were listening to bedtime stories about castles and princesses, and I was being lured to sleep by thoughts of a God dressed as Rambo type militant radical, with every weapon imaginable strapped to His body, along with extra ammunition criss crossing His chest, chasing me through the jungles of Africa with a machete in one hand and launching grenades at me with the other hand, yelling, “Jennifer! Get back here! I want to use you greatly!” No thanks God. I’ll take my chances living in Spiritual obscurity. God, if you and I are the only two to know my name is in the book of Life, that’s the perfect number to me.
If only life were that simple. If only we could receive our missions from God in a Top Secret envelope, and after evaluating the contents decide whether or not we want to participate in yet another life threatening or life altering experience. But God knows us all too well. Few envelopes would ever be opened, and even fewer missions would ever be accepted. We are a people of self-preservation. Rarely if ever, would we choose character growth over comfort, or being humbled over being exalted So God, in His rarely understood wisdom, chooses the battles and trials for each of us to bear, according to what each of us needs in order for His perfect plan to be accomplished

I can remember years of unsuccessfully trying to figure out what “perfect” plan God had in mind for me. I did figure out that God and I have two very different ideas of what “perfect” means.
One of my early memories of being completely overwhelmed by the devastation that can accompany God’s perfect plan was when I was 13. My good friend, fellow softball team member, and youth group member Eric Barnett was facing a battle so much greater than his 13 years. His mother was dying with cancer. I remember the surge of faith I had in the beginning. God would surely not take a Christian mother from her son, especially in a world where godly mothers were in short supply. But as the battle raged, my faith weakened, and hope’s flame was vanishing. The emotion in my heart remained bottled up. I would not give God the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I was a child pouting, hoping to still get my way. As the end drew near for Eric’s mom, the dam on my emotions grew weaker and weaker. One Sunday night at church, we had an evangelist speak. As he began to preach, the tears began to roll. As I struggled to control the flow, my body began to shake, and in instant I was down on the floor sobbing and wailing uncontrollably. I cried for Eric, I cried for his father, and I cried for my own pain. My Heavenly Father who loved me had hurt me in the depths of my heart that I did not even know existed. I was crying so hard the evangelist took me to a room and stayed with me until I stopped crying, and ministered to my broken heart. I am thankful that in that moment, God had someone there who shared His heart. That evangelist was the very arms of God around me that night and showed me a truth that has stayed with me forever, - though God may not choose to answer as we wish, God will stop time and space to hold you through the pain. Little did I know God was setting the stage, by gently placing questions in my life, directing me to seek Him, for answers only He had.
One continual area of suffering that I endured was having a mother who was bi-polar manic depressant. I did not want to mention this area of my suffering, because quite honestly it is too painful, but my mom has urged me to obey God. The battle the mentally ill face is a terrible one. For years, my mom was battling her own private war, but many times the casualities were her very own family. She was unpredictable, neglectful, abusive and cruel. The ongoing war in her mind manifested itself in her words and deeds. She would disappear for days a time, and the rest of time she disappeared into her room. But the operative word is “was”. God has continued to work in my mom’s life. While my mom’s treatment of me has done a complete 180, I am most thankful she has finally found that peace in her mind. She left much to be desired as a mother growing up, but she has a 100 times over made up for it in the grandmother she has been to my three children.
When I was 18, my struggle with God over suffering in another area of my life came to a climax in a freshman writing class in college. The assignment was to write a first person narrative. In the early morning hours, after being unable to separate my academic life from my spiritual life, through tears I wrote the below essay. For the first time, I was able to express what I had bottled up for years in my heart.

The Highest Betrayal

He is a man, who if had been alive in the days of Jesus, would have been chosen to be a disciple of Christ, and would have been the most faithful of all. He wouldn’t have fallen asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane while Jesus begged God to let that cup pass of sorrow pass. Instead, he would have been there beside Jesus, tears flowing down his cheeks, begging God to make him more like this man he so dearly loved. If offered a price to betray Jesus, like Judas, he would have refused without the thought of money he might receive, but would have paid any price to show his Lord the devotion and allegiance he had towards Him. He wouldn’t have denied Christ three times, like Peter did while Jesus was on trial, but he would have testified in the trial, for the man he believed so strongly in, regardless of the consequence. When the Son of God hung on the cross, gasping for one last breath as the sky split open and a fury of wind and darkness descended, he wouldn’t have fled the scene in fear like the rest of the crowd, but he would have huddled at the foot of the cross, clinging to the wood wet with the blood of his master, and wept in sorrow that after sharing so many things with his friend and companion, he would not be able to share in his sufferings.
But he wasn’t honored to walk with the manifest Son of God. Instead, he was born in the late 40’s into a world that still desperately needed Jesus. At a young age, this man decided to give what little he had, being from a poor family of six, to God and become a lonely disciple. He vowed to spend the rest of his life being a living example to the teachings of Christ. But the effects of his decision on the next 48 years of His life, cast a shadow over the wisdom of his choice. While there were spiritual changes in his life, there were no changes in his circumstances. He was denied many material things he wanted and even needed. He was a timid, shy, gentle boy, whose heart would be broken many times because of his sensitivity. Yet, through his childhood struggles, he pressed on to towards the mark of the high of the calling of Christ.
As he matured the more trials he would be expected to endure. As a young man he entered the army, where in the midst of drinking, perversion, and immorality he stood strong in his beliefs. He faced situations of ridicule and abuse that he has shared with few people. When he returned home, he entered Bible College where, because of lack of money, he went without food, that he might feast on the knowledge of Christ. A few years later, he married and struggled to support his family working more that one job at a time, going to school, and yet still faithfully serving God. It was during this time that the greatest battle he would face was introduced. He tested positive with diabetes.
Through the years that followed, his circumstances still did not improve greatly. He still struggled to support his family, denying himself many things to provide for them. At one point, having no car, he walked 12 miles to attend a job interview out of love for his family. There was no end to this man’s humbleness and desire to serve God regardless of the circumstances.
Finally, after several years, it seemed he was going to get his chance to do something for himself and achieve a lifetime goal that would promise him financial security, an enjoyable job where he could help people, and one day even possibly become a missionary, which he had desired to do since he was child. He graduated from nursing school. He was finally going to be able to drive a new car and not a small used compact car, get a house in a nice subdivision, buy his wife and children things he always felt bad that he couldn’t provide before, take a nice vacation, and just enjoy reaping the benefits of all his years of hard work, his faithful devotion to God, his sacrifices, and his many trials.
But it wasn’t to be. After working less than a year as a nurse, and just starting to enjoy success, he fell and broke his ankle in three places, and forced to have to have surgery, which put him out of the work force. When his leg finally recovered and he was able to return to work, his health failed him. He was told diabetes was destroying his health. Because of these problems he was forced to quit work, and go on disability. Once again he was struggling. Once again, he refused to ask God why, or to question God. He just silently accepted. Now, two years, later, he is blind, has four arteries of his heart blocked 90%, his kidneys are only working 50%, and he has been given less than a year to live. Amazingly, he still serves God. He is willing to go through this painful time because of what Christ went through on the cross for him. This living disciple is facing his cross, and sharing in the sufferings of his Lord’s cross. This living disciple is my father,
Having watched my father give total strangers a place to stay in our home, silently slip groceries into the back of a struggling family’s car, leave a check in the home of a struggling minister we were visiting, pray for hours at night while I was sleeping, and do many other thoughtful compassionate acts he was never acknowledged for, I can honestly say my father is the closest thing to Jesus in my life. It was my father who led me to Jesus, baptized me, and taught me the most about the walk of not a deeply religious person, but the walk of a child of the Most High King who chooses to be a servant in this life, and to reign with the King of Kings later. Who chooses not to dwell on the battles in one’s life, but to strive to help secure victory in the lives of others, and who sees others not as the world sees them, but as God sees them.
But, I must also say, I don’t know if I want the real Jesus in my life. If the decision to let God control every aspect of my life means going through the trials my father went through, I can’t and won’t do it. I won’t allow God to let me achieve a goal, and then take the rewards from me. I won’t allow him to let people walk on me and then tell me that’s what it means to be a servant. I won’t allow him to take my life and do whatever he wants to, and then say if you love me you’ll do this. If he loves me He’ll help me meet my dreams and goals, and pave the way helping me, and teach me little lessons along the way. I won’t allow Him to make me suffer, so I can be like His Son. I thought Christ suffered so we wouldn’t have to. Where is the abundant life he promised my father? Where are the blessings? Where are the reasons that make it worthwhile to serve God? The only reason I see, is that maybe one day in Heaven I’ll see my dad in Heaven, and he’ll be happy without any worries, and know it was worth it for him.

I love my father dearly, and it pierces my heart to watch him suffer in life and now death, and though he would deny it, I feel my father has been through the highest betrayal.
Betrayal by God.
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When I finished reading the assignment out loud in class, the room was silent. No one moved. No one breathed. I heard muffled sobs, and saw some wiping away tears. Was my assignment that impressive? No. But through my words I had touched a nerve in every soul in the room. The unexpressed thought had been spoken. The timeless question had been asked. The hidden hurts had been exposed. That was the moment God issued an invitation to me to join Him on a journey.
It was a journey that would span across the miles, with stops at hospitals and emergency rooms, funerals and cemeteries, church alters and back seat pews. It was not a journey of my own choosing, for my own consolation, but that through the enabling of the Holy Spirit, I could join you and guide you through that same journey.
I didn’t recognize the journey as being one to help others until many years later. At the time, the journey felt like road trip that hit every painful place in life, like pot holes in the road. I read the above essay to my dad after I wrote it. I thought he would appreciate the love I expressed in it for him. Instead, as I finished reading, and looked up my heart dropped. There were tears and unspeakable pain in his eyes. My love for him could not cover the greatest tragedy. His daughter now despised the very God he had given his life to serve. The very God he was depending on to care for and watch over her when he was gone from this world- she would not speak to. Sometimes those God will use greatly, will wound each other deeply.

The travesty is, my dad did not see the situation improve before he died. When he died we had not spoken for months. The enemy took the situation, and magnified it for his own use. He used my pain against me, and now I will use it against him, as I choose to glorify God for using that pain for good. My mother’s mental illness peaked at the time of my father’s death, making the situation worse. Instead of comfort I found cold shoulders. My church, family, and almost everyone in my life turned against me; a prodigal who came home too late. The only one who I wanted to hold me and help me was gone. Sometimes, God empties our arms so we finally have room for Him and He can hold us closer.
But as this prodigal ran home, it was God who ran to meet me. Little known to me, God had promised my dad many things. Dad had prayed over me, from the time he found out my mom was pregnant, to the end of his life. I am so thankful God does not need the approval of all parties involved for prayers to be effective. Long after my dad was speaking to Jesus face to face, the prayers he prayed on earth were still being answered. What a hope and peace to know your prayers can outlive you! Not a prayer my father prayed remained unanswered. Though my father and I did not find peace with one another before he died, God’s restoring power spans time and eternity, and I now feel closer to my dad than ever.
It was my father’s suffering that initiated me into the secret world of the hurting and broken. I was an eyewitness to his pain and battles for years. From that time on, I have felt more intimately and intensely the pain of others. I have been burdened to somehow secure for others the hope and peace that I have found in carrying the painful crosses we are sometimes asked to bear.
I continued to study God’s world always overshadowed by the suffering around me, and this book is the fruit of that study. John says that if the all that Christ did on earth were written down, the world could not contain the books. I cannot fill the world with books about Him, but I can fill as much of the space as possible with books about His mercy and grace in my life, that others may read, and allow Him to re-write their story.
Through my own suffering and study, I understand what my dad was trying teach me. Through God’s wounding I can finally see God’s great work for my life. I can now look back at the footsteps of God’s pursuit to wound me for His glory. The reality was, if God didn’t draw attention to me, I couldn’t draw attention to Him, which is the mission of every Christian- to lift up Christ that all men may be drawn to Him. The next problem was in order for me to draw the right attention to God, I needed some work. To be a poster child of the Most High King, you better resemble the King. Fifteen years ago, I looked more like an Angel who thought she deserved to be on the throne. (Who does that remind you of?)
Monuments to God’s grace cannot be built on the shifting sands of men’s egos. God can not put His name and reputation on the line by putting one of His own in the limelight, one who will quickly forget why they are there. Living Sacrifices to Almighty God cannot share the altar with flesh not yet dead to the world. Do you want to be used greatly by God? Then you must be free from strongholds, spiritual diseases, and carnal masses and tumors that keep God from flowing freely and powerfully in your life. How does God fix those issues? With the deep wounding my father shared with me.
The wounding of God is not a barbaric and aimless stabbing of His knife through the flesh of His children. It is a far cry from it. The wounding of God is done with a scalpel in the hand of the Great Physician. Our Heavenly Surgeon tenderly and compassionately maneuvers His instruments with grace and mercy, through the tender and painful flesh of our Spirit Man removing and trimming the diseased places of our lives that cause us so much pain, and hinder us from living a full and abundant life in Him.
The healing from such a deep and painful procedure may take time. It is during those times the enemy is waiting to step in and plant seeds of doubt, bitterness, and resentment against a God who was willing to wound you to make you better. It was at this time the enemy used my pain against me. But it was at this time God stepped in and made my pain the very avenue He would use to grow me, mature me, and train me. The plan, though not perfect in my eyes, does make more sense now. God was transitioning me from Earthly “Daddy’s little Girl”, to Heavenly “Father’s Princess Warrior”. I have to say, that after experiencing some of the benefits of divine surgery, and viewing the before and after pictures, God is indeed a gifted and successful surgeon. His scalpel can be trusted.

To my fathers, I dedicate this book. Some of the last words my father ever spoke to me were, “I know that I know-God is going to bring you through this.” Daddy, you were right. I miss you with all my heart. But this book would never have been born, without the void that was left when you were gone. God filled it as only He could.
To my Heavenly Father, who quietly stood back and watched all those years as I poured my affection, love and attention on my earthly father. You knew your time with me would come, and you passionately and patiently waited for me.
To all the little girls and little boys, in grown up bodies, who feel that their Heavenly father has betrayed them, this book is for you. I don’t know you personally, but I am praying for you, to the God who created you. I don’t know where you are today, but your Creator does. Whether you are personally suffering, recuperating from suffering, dreading suffering, or know someone in the midst of suffering I know it will touch all of our lives someday, somehow. All God’s children can benefit from a godly perspective on suffering, and I hope I can by God’s anointing be, not the light at the end of the tunnel, but reveal the Light of the World in your tunnel.
If you are still in that place of anger that I was in, may I ask this of you? Reserve your judgment of God until after you have walked with me through the pages of His Word. His Word was intended for moments such as these in your life- to be that tangible Presence of God, when He feels so far away. But He is not far away, He is standing there whispering to you, “I know that I know, I want to bring you through this, and I will -if you will let me.”
Turn the page, and let Him.