Over the years, there have been a few times when I've stumbled across a community of artists (poets, song-writers, story-tellers, etc). As I eagerly explore their works, I can't help but be drawn into the hearts and minds of these gifted, creative people whose art arises out of their capacity to think and feel deeply. But I don't think that describes it well enough. These are people who intentionally journey through the depths of their pain because they hold within themselves an audacious hope that none of it will go to waste and all of it will be turned into beauty in the end by God's incredible, intimate work of redemption. And so their art is truly beautiful in the deepest sense of the word.
Last night I actually got excited about this thought: those of us who are Christians have a unique capacity to experience both the fullness of pain, grief, and sorrow and the fullness of joy, hope and comfort. We don't have to fall into despair or pretend pain isn't real. It's built into our story, into our DNA, and Jesus has paved the way by enduring the cross - which included the most excruciating physical, mental, emotional, relational, spiritual pain imaginable - for the sake of the joy waiting on the other side. (Hebrews 12:2) He is our living proof that any pain, whether small or big, has the potential to birth the joy of intimacy - both with God and the people around us.
But this is not, of course, the automatic, guaranteed result of pain. When faced with pain, we are given a choice. We can easily try to bypass pain by complaining, blaming, avoiding, numbing, or distracting ourselves from it. But if we choose to bypass pain, we are also choosing to bypass the possibility and power of redemption. And what a beautiful thing redemption is...picture God scooping up every single drop of your pain and transforming it into something beautiful... Redemption is, as one worship pastor put it, "God's most prized form of art." It is the longing of His soul to turn the ugliest parts of our lives into the most breathtaking and beautiful story.
In a piece of music, the dissonance is what makes the ending so beautiful. I like to sit down and improvise at the piano occasionally and I've improved a little since I first began, but I would be the first to admit that my "musical doodling" sounds somewhat flimsy and thin because I tend to stick to the same, "safe" chords and patterns. But on the other hand, when I think of my favorite piece of music, "Meditation of Thais," it is anything but flimsy and thin. There is wrestling and struggle written into the very notes, a storm of guttural cries that finally fades into gentle calm. I can't fully describe it, but I feel close to God when I play it.
I don't really understand pain. At times, I've felt overwhelmed by it. All I know is to walk with God through it. To embrace the journey, trusting that it will somehow be made worth it in the end. And I guess that is all it takes - a willing heart. But I find so many ways to try to avoid my pain - I blame God, I blame other people, I blame myself, I try to pretend I'm fine. But all the while, God longs for me to cry out to Him, to wrestle with Him, to ask Him the big questions. After all, He can take it. But too often, I just harden my heart against Him before He has a chance to show me what good might come out of my pain. Similar to how Jesus cried out to Jerusalem, I hear Him cry out to me: "How often would I have gathered you like a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but you were not willing!" And I am reminded of one of my favorite lines from the Chronicles of Narnia: "Oh, Adam's sons, how cleverly you defend yourselves against all that might do you good!"
To be honest, I'm a little afraid of sharing this post. I'm afraid it will come across as trite, as if I want to prescribe quick fixes to pain in a nice, neat, little box and say, "Here you go. Here's how you deal with pain." But the truth is, I've experienced pain and I've been changed. Just a few months ago, I wholeheartedly believed that I had to be in a good place within myself before I had anything to offer to others. But in the midst of deep sorrow and loss, I discovered I can reach out, bless, and invest in people and in that place of giving when I feel like I have nothing to give, I find Him, the Gift, living inside of me. I've found that part of my healing is hidden within community. I need time alone to process through hard things, but in relationship with other people, too, I find comfort and hope. I have experienced firsthand that God is, without doubt, near to the broken-hearted. He has shown Himself to be so intimate and surprisingly powerful to lift me up out of despair, sorrow, and hopelessness and into joy, hope, strength, and peace. By His grace, I've abounded in expectation, hope, and belief, praying "God, please _______ and I know You will"...even thanking Him for answers to prayer that I don't see yet! I've found that praise is the way through to God in any and every circumstance. As a result, I've felt a beautiful desperation to find people to boast about Him to, I've written out what He's done for me, spoken it out loud as I'm driving from place to place. And believe me, this is hard. Even when the easiest thing for me to do should be to praise Him, I often fail...so all the more, I must remind myself of who He is and of the hope I have of all things turning out for His glory and my good. This is how I feed myself the truth and get nourished spiritually every day. Lift Him up and I find that in turn He lifts me up. And I have discovered that this is redemption's anthem: nothing goes to waste. Instead, everything is given worth in the kingdom of God.
We can either let pain cause decay and darkness in our lives or we can let it drive us deeper into the heart of God. And if it drives us deeper into His heart, then none of it, by no means, has gone to waste. Pain is intimate...powerful...big...deep...and when we press into God through our pain, we find Him to be more intimate, more powerful, bigger, and deeper than ever before.
Through the work of redemption, we get to love those who hate us because that's the kind of love we have received. We get to face the hardest things in our lives and become more soft-hearted because God looked our hardness of heart in the face and was moved to compassion, even to the point of dying on a cross. We get to look despair in the eye and triumph in hope because God never despaired of us even when we were dead in our sins but always, always holds out hope that in time we will inhabit our true identity and become what He has already named us: His spotless bride, His beloved.
Listen closely and you just might hear redemption's song. And you just might discover that it's God's love song He's singing over you.