Lessons from Affliction and Pain

Several years ago, I wrote a friend who knows chronic pain. I shared my words and an excerpt from Stream in the Desert.

Dear friend, I am learning that when pain is present, discomfort is an undercurrent in the flow of the day. Pain inconveniences, irritates, and frustrates. I sure don’t know how your pain feels.

Yet, I know Pain’s cousin. Pain is the unwelcome guest at every hour. Pain disturbs your sleep. Pain stays too long, visits too often, and does not know when to leave.

Do you feel anger, fear, shame, or guilt because your pain might disadvantage you? You shouldn’t.

God chose a life with pain for you. But it’s not just a life with pain alone. Yours is a life with His presence and pain.

Pain brings out God’s beauty of His working in us.

I am sad you hurt today. I see His beauty in your pain.

I read this from the October 1 reading from Streams in the Desert; it helped me.

“It is good for me that I have been afflicted.” (Psalm 119:71.)

It is a remarkable circumstance that the most brilliant colors of plants are to be seen on the highest mountains, in spots that are most exposed to the wildest weather. The brightest lichens and mosses, the loveliest gems of wild flowers, abound far up on the bleak, storm-scalped peak.

One of the richest displays of organic coloring I ever beheld was near the summit of Mount Chenebettaz, a hill about 10,000 feet high, immediately above the great St. Bernard Hospice. The whole face of an extensive rock was covered with a most vivid yellow lichen which shone in the sunshine like the golden battlement of an enchanted castle.

There, in that lofty region, amid the most frowning desolation, exposed to the fiercest tempest of the sky, this lichen exhibited a glory of color such as it never showed in the sheltered valley. I have two specimens of the same lichen before me while I write these lines, one from the great St. Bernard, and the other from the wall of a Scottish castle, deeply embossed among sycamore trees; and the difference in point of form and coloring between them is most striking.

The specimen nurtured amid the wild storms of the mountain peak is of a lovely primrose hue, and is smooth in texture and complete in outline, while the specimen nurtured amid the soft airs and the delicate showers of the lowland valley is of a dim rusty hue, and is scurfy in texture, and broken in outline.

And is it not so with the Christian who is afflicted, tempest-tossed, and not comforted? Till the storms and vicissitudes of God’s providence beat upon him again and again, his character appears marred and clouded; but trials clear away the obscurity, perfect the outlines of his disposition, and give brightness and blessing to his life.

Amidst my list of blessings infinite
Stands this the foremost, that my heart has bled;
For all I bless Thee, most for the severe.

Upon reading the passage and the above reading from Streams in the Desert, I concluded:

If you suffer today, Psalm 119:71 teaches:
1. Pain is a teacher: pain teaches me that my life’s condition is good even when afflicted.
2. Pain is a path: The path of pain leads to His presence. Pain is the path He chose for me.
3. Pain is a classroom: The classroom of pain teaches me His statutes.
4. Pain is a lonely place: The loneliness of pain brings me His presence.
5. Pain is a Divine workplace: The workshop of pain is where He displays His handiwork in my life.
6. Pain is a decision desk: Pain is what He chose for me; He sees it as good for me; therefore, it is good.
7. Pain is a worship place: The cathedral of pain allows me to see Him, know Him, and remind me that He is working in my pain. My conditions do not determine if I worship. He is worthy of my worship when I am afflicted.

Learn in your pain:
He is good. He is gracious. He is God.

My affliction must not cause me to say, Why me?
Rather, my affliction must cause me to say, why not me?