During the past year, my husband and I have been walking through the pain of losing someone we loved dearly. The pastor who was planning to speak at the funeral gathered our immediate family in a room a few days before the service and challenged us in a big way. Through tears he whispered, “Don’t waste the pain. As I look back at some of the most influential and formational moments of my life, they were all centered around pain. You have a choice as you’re processing this loss: you can become bitter or you can become better.”
In the whirlwind of planning and tears, it took me a few days to really grab hold of what he was saying but, now that I have, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I find myself staring off into space and repeating the words over and over in my head. What does it mean to not waste the pain?
My husband and I have walked through many storms and pain in the past few years. Family crisis, death, sickness, job changes, and praying about decisions that could move us 1,000 miles from home—we have felt pain.
Through some of that pain, my immediate, selfish, and fleshly desire is to pull away. I feel like hiding in the corner, pulling sheets over my head, not talking about it, and writing an angry tweet with the hashtag #stayaway or #thisisntfair. Why would this happen to me? Why do Caleb and I have to deal with that? Why is this so stressful? It could start to translate into our marriage.
I imagine that through this pain, God is handing me nails, a hammer, and wood. He whispers, “Here is your pain. What will you do with it?” As I grab the wood, my flesh tells me to build a shield. “You could hide! You can use it to build a layer of protection around you so you won’t get hurt again!” Convinced this is a good idea, I begin to take my pain and build a strong shield.
Now, I’m looking at my shield in anger and asking myself why I built it. I’m disconnected, angry, and bitter as I hide behind this solid piece of wood. By refusing to deal with my pain, I am separating from everything that has to do with it, including my husband.
“Don’t waste the pain,” the pastor’s words whisper in my ear.
When I choose to guard myself from pain, I also shield myself from joy and intimacy. So, with gritted teeth, I’ll tear apart the wall and ask the Lord to make instead a solid step. I’ll watch Him construct the final piece. As Caleb & I stand on the step together, we will be taller and stronger. We are becoming better, not bitter.
Image credit: citalliance / 123RF Stock Photo
