Tears flooded down my face, my mouth hung part way open as I ugly-cried. I wiped my nose on my sleeve and turned the page. I’ve been reading Hearts of Fire by Voice of the Martyrs, about eight women in the underground church. With each story my heart weeps for what these sisters of mine have endured and the suffering they’ve faced.
It’s unspeakable — but it must be spoken of. However, one detail in many of the stories has caught my attention. So many of these women suffered horribly, and finally made it to the light at the end of the tunnel . . . only to be thrown right back into incredible suffering only a few weeks or months or years later.
As I’ve been healing from my chronic illnesses, I’ve been wrestling with that idea. The idea of more pain and suffering. Part of me is scared of it. But part of me realizes it’s inevitable. I’ve been realizing that just because I have suffered a lot in my short life, that doesn’t make me immune to future pain. Pain isn’t like chicken pox.
It’s a hard thing to come to terms with. Just because we’ve been through something hard and awful doesn’t mean we’re exempt from future pain. I’m young. Chances are, I have a lot of time on this earth still . . . and Jesus promises us suffering during our time here on earth. (See John 16:33, John 15:18-19)
How do we deal with that reality?
In Hearts of Fire, one of the women shared a poem that encouraged her, and it has stuck with me.
“He giveth more grace as our burdens grow greater,
He sendeth more strength as our labors increase,
To added affliction He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials He multiples grace”
-Annie Johnson Flint
Right now, I can’t imagine facing what those persecuted believers faced. I can’t imagine being dragged away from my son to prison. I can’t imagine hearing the news that my husband and sons were burned to death. I can’t imagine leaving my daughter behind with a group of Islamic captors. I can’t imagine listening to my young son get shot.
I’m tempted to say “I could never endure that.”
But lately, I’ve been convicted for that. People tell me all the time, “I could never go through what you’ve gone through with the same faith in God you have,” referring to my chronic illness and almost-death.
They’re wrong. If they rely on God, they could. They could endure what I have and more with their head held high. You could. When we say things like “I could never endure that” we’re saying God’s grace isn’t enough.
God knows the exact measure of our limits. He knows what I can handle and what I can’t, in Him. And He will never give you or I beyond what we can bear. (See 1 Corinthians 10:13) If He chooses to allow more suffering in my future, I can trust that He will provide the grace and strength I need to glorify Him through it.
“Either our trials will be proportioned to our strength, or strength will be supplied in proportion to our temptations.” -Matthew Henry
Maybe right now I couldn’t handle facing illness again. Maybe right now I couldn’t handle facing persecution. Maybe right now I couldn’t handle facing the death of someone I love. God alone knows. But I don’t have to be able to handle it now. I simply have to rely on God and He will prepare me for exactly what my life will hold . . . when I need to be ready.
Suffering as a teenager hasn’t made me immune to future suffering. But I take comfort knowing that I won’t face anything alone. He will be with me in every single thing and He will increase grace, strength, and mercy as I face increased burdens, trials, and affliction.
We don’t need to be afraid of future pain. Sure, it will hurt. I know that from experience. But we don’t face it alone. And even if we aren’t strong enough now, God will provide. Let’s not spit on His grace by saying “I could never do that.”
What a great reminder. I’ve always been less afraid of my present trials than I am of what I *could* go through in the future. But you’re right: we aren’t doing ourselves any favors by telling ourselves that we could “never do that.” Thanks for sharing, Sara!