Trust in You, Lauren Daigle
“He calms the storm, so that its waves are still. Then they are glad because they are quiet; So He guides them to their desired haven.” Psalm 107:29-30
As you “spread thy grief before Him, thou wilt see through the clouds a bright opening…Then shalt thou learn, not to endure only patiently, but…humbly and quickly to see and to love the loving Will of God. They faith and they love and they hope will grow, the more thou sees the work of God with thee; thou will joy in thy sorrow, and thy sorrow will be turned into joy.” Edward B. Pusey
“God has made me fruitful in the land of my sufferings.” Genesis 41:52
Pain will knock you out of your sense of space and place. This type of forced sabbatical can lend new perspective to the activities that cluttered the calendar and strips away all unnecessary commitments. In my circumstances, I couldn’t even add my name to the list of appeals for meals. I had to decapitate the idol of Should: I should bring them a meal; I should follow up with that need; I should…the list could go on endlessly.
Ironically, one thing pain healed me of was that it allowed no space for the shoulds. I was too clouded over with my own grief and my own process of healing to be able to move outside the needs of my own family. And there is no shame in that. Sure, it feels awkward, if you’re used to running at break-neck speed and spinning the proverbial plates, but we were not designed to be spread thin over long periods of time. Detoxification of the soul requires scraping off the lime-encrusted patterns that the demands of life fix us in, in order for nutrients to begin to pass through and be truly nourished by our activities, instead of fulfilling tasks out of obligation. “As you spread your grief before Him…you will [find] joy [even] in [the midst of] your sorrow, and your sorrow will be turned into joy.”
It is giving ourselves permission to have more space in our place with a God who desires intimacy with us. The requirement of emotional intimacy is time. Time to grieve. Time to unpackage trauma. Time to unclench the fist. Time to learn to release forgiveness. Time to heal the body. Time to not run at break-neck speed. Time to say no to appeals and be free of guilt. Time to let the lime-encrusted patterns sit and soak and be scraped away, so that our soul can be nourished. Time to see the mystery unfold of how God can bring fruit from suffering. Time to watch joy spring from sorrow.
It is a promise given us in Genesis 41:52, that God will make me fruitful, while I am yet in a seemingly endless and barren landscape of suffering.
“Just as the heat from a fire causes a cone to open and release its seeds, God allows the pressure and discomfort of our trials to serve as a catalyst for new growth,” Ruth Chou Simons, GraceLaced, p. 146.