Life in the pain lane

Okay, goofy title, but a pretty apt description of how I see life right now. And it’s not just physical pain either, but something much deeper. Something that goes down to the roots of my religious thinking.

I'm starting to doubt God. Not His existence. But His goodness.

It didn’t bother me much to question God when I was a teenager. Or even as a young adult. I’d spout off my doubts to anyone who would listen and engage in an array of conversations, often coming away thinking I’d learned enough to make me feel okay.

But now my circle of influence grows larger than the student crowd at a university college. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, writer, and leader in community and writing groups. Were I to spout off the venom I feel growing inside, I’d do more hurt than I want to imagine.

Responsibility and years of Bible reading press in on me. But it doesn’t change the pain in my heart. And in all honesty, I don’t really want to talk it over with God. I know that’s the only place to find peace.

But He’s also the One allowing a whole host of painful things in my life.

Career challenges for both my husband and me. The great unknown with enough to know things could get rocky fast. Financial stress. Marital struggles under all the pressure. On top of that, in the past month I’ve been through a host of what I thought were “old people” tests to see why I’m falling apart at the seams. From EKG’s to x-rays to being zapped and bleeding from an EMG that tested the nerves in my arms and hands, I feel like crying “UNCLE” and not waking up until all of this pain is gone.

Which won’t be gone unless God decides I’ve had enough and starts healing the things I’ve begged Him for years to heal. I wish I could say with Job “Though He slay me, yet I will trust in Him.” Or that I could agree with the apostle Paul’s outlook and rejoice in my weaknesses.

But I’m not.

Some days I can’t even think straight because my blood sugars are so out of whack and I’m exhausted from not sleeping well. Usually I journal or type through my foggy mental state or questions about God, but now that’s another painful reminder of why I’m struggling with God’s goodness.

How is it good that my arms and hands are numb and painful because of carpal tunnel and cubital tunnel and I struggle to do the simplest of things I know I’ve been called to do? How is it good that I have yet another chronic illness that makes eating or not eating like a volcano erupting in my abdomen?

Maybe those are the wrong questions.

But my heart can’t get past them right now. Especially when I consider that my flawed genetics are going to set my kids up for serious physical issues in the future.

I know we live in a fallen world. I’m just struggling with how hard that world is falling on me right now.

I wish I had some insight to share or even a line of wisdom. But I’m empty.

The few people I’ve talked to about all this have repeated to me words I’ve said to other discouraged folks. “Run to God.” “God is a perfect Comforter and will heal your heart when you turn to Him.” I felt those words as truth when I said it and I’m sure my friends did too.

But those sentiments are hitting brick walls of confusion and doubt.

Then I think about my daughters. How will I teach them about God’s love if I don’t believe in it? How will I teach my seniors at church the Truth of God’s Word when I don’t even want to open it right now?

In typing that I recognize the stirring within me. I can’t teach if I don’t believe. And teaching is so much a part of who I am I can’t imagine not doing it. I love my girls too much to really consider walking away from God and leading them down a very wrong path.

God designed me that way. He gave me my children and my class of students knowing I’d come crashing into this construction area time of life. He also made me love the truth so much that I can’t escape it or put on a “Christian mask” until I “get over” this struggle.

So what do I do? I suppose in writing this and posting it, I’m taking the first tentative step out of what feels like a gaping black hole in the road.

I’m admitting my struggle. And I’m asking for prayer.

Last night my older two daughters hugged me before going to bed and said, “I’m praying for you.”

Then my youngest daughter crawled into my lap and looked at my red eyes. “You sad?” she asked.

“Yes” I said swiping at my tears.

She looked straight in my eyes and sighed, “I sorry, Mommy. I love you.”

Thinking back on that now I’m wondering if that’s not the key out of this quagmire of doubt.

To remember I’m loved. Not just by my kids, but by God.

Even if what He’s allowing in my life is beyond what I want to bear, His Word says He loves me. Maybe that’s what I should ponder instead of questions without answers.

God sees the end from the beginning. Maybe, just maybe, there is a good reason He’s allowing all this pain. Construction? Tearing down everything so that only what is immovable remains?

Maybe. The Bible sure says to expect that from life. Not sure why it’s so hard for me to wrap my mind around sometimes. Or to willingly accept.

Pray for me, will you? That I’ll have ears to hear and a heart open to whatever God says is best for my life.

I’ll pray that for you, too.

Hopefully together we can remind each other to hang on to the Truth. No matter what God’s “best” brings.