Draw Me Nearer

Yesterday, my friend told me that it had officially been one year that she and her husband had been trying to conceive a child, and yet they have still not seen fruit of their hopes. Every month, they wait for the egg, and every month, they see: “not pregnant.”

 Today, one of my best friends sits in the intensive care unit, watching the mother of her youth skate very close to death. She waits; sings over her mother, words of hymns that she herself is having trouble believing. Her mother lifts one eyebrow every time her daughter starts to sing a new song, and with it, lifts a grain of hope in her daughter’s weak and angry heart.

 A mother sits in silence at home, waiting for her husband to return after a long day. Her children run circles around her, draining every inch of life from her. The world is a blur of monotony; a black hole of the same. Her living room curtains blow in the new spring air, but yet they are prison bars to her.

 Suffering. It comes in every imaginable way. From the cumbersome tasks that come along with being a mom to young kids; lifting the weight of your 23 pound ten month old way too many times in a day, until there is a knot in your back so deep, all the way to the sufferings of losing a mother too soon, or waiting on a baby that may never come. Suffering is pervasive. It is every day, everywhere; bleeding into every pore. Suffering is inevitable.

 I fight it. I push against suffering in every way. Don’t we all?

  That next night’s sleep will finally bring the rest I need. A back massage will ease the pain. If I can just find a dang minute to sit and watch my show, I will find the peace I need! If we could just get away from the kids for a few days to re-set…if you would just eat gluten free, your health wouldn’t be a problem…if you get on the right medicine, you will finally conceive, if, if, if….

 There is a reason we spend 99.99% of our time fighting suffering. It is because, deep down, we know it shouldn’t be. Deep down, we know that suffering was not the true intended way of created beings. It is counter- creation. It is marred. It feels all wrong. It is all wrong.

When God created this world and all that it holds, he called it very good (Gen 1:31). Then, suffering burst forth with a vengeance the very minute mankind decided that we wanted to be our own ruler. But the beauty among the ashes of this dismal truth is that, in Christ, we were not left there. In fact, the very punishment of our rebellion, namely suffering, is what Christ would use to make a way for us. Suffering would be the chosen avenue of Christ to relate with us, live with us, and die like us. It is fitting, then, that in Christ’s astounding and immeasurable grace, suffering would be our avenue to walk in communion with God, even though it was once what divided us from Him. In the face of weakness and pain, Christ would bestow grace and power.

 In 2 Corinthians 12: 7-10, Paul says,
 “I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. 8 Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

 I have read this verse hundreds of times in my life as a Christian. “Yada, yada, yada… suffering…God is with me in suffering..blah blah.” But recently, I have been wrecked by this concept. The more I grow up, the more suffering unveils all around me. It has always been there, but now I see it in every crevice and corner. And as my faith grows, I am learning that pushing against suffering is often pushing away the avenue of God’s grace toward me. I feel that there are two ways that I see myself doing this. I sometimes supress suffering, by telling myself that it isn't a big deal, or someone else has it worse. In contrast, sometimes I don't let God walk alongside in my suffering, because I try to fix it myself. I find a million different avenues that are completely other than that of Christ's relational, understanding, go-before me presence. In doing both of these things, I rob my Father of the gift of loving on me. I miss out on the moments of letting Him sing truth over me while I angrily clank dishes in my kitchen sink. It is often a statement that I make, that I don’t need Him, or His abiding, comforting presence. Pushing back against suffering says that I would rather be cold and strong than weak and needy in my loving Father’s arms.

 We can’t reverse, or even really diminish the sufferings all around us. We can’t afford to hire a nanny, personal trainer, masseuse, and chef so that we can achieve pristine physical wellness (this sounds extremely trite, but it is just what we do when we push towards pampering, rest, and protection as a means to avoid suffering). We can’t take away that 4 year old’s leukemia, or offer holistic comfort to her mother by bringing her a basket of fruit. We can’t offer the homeless woman that stands on the Page Ave. exit an endless income that will reverse all of her emotional, physical, and financial travails.

 So we suffer. We ourselves suffer, and we suffer with others. We don’t push back. We enter in. We press into Jesus, the Sufferer. We may plead his grace to take it away, or we may simply plead the grace of His presence. But we plead with him, exchange with Him, engage Him. We claim His power over the suffering. We tell it to our friends when they don’t believe it. We pray it over the stranger on the street.

 And all the while, we see the face of God.

 I end with words from this timeless hymn (by Frances J. Crosby), that speak this truth so aptly. Being drawn to the Lord is being drawn toward the beauty of His suffering, and to His victory over suffering. It is a place of hope like none other.

  Draw Me Nearer, Blessed Lord
I am Thine, O Lord, I have heard Thy voice, and it told Thy love to me; But I long to rise in the arms of faith, and be closer drawn to Thee. Refrain: Draw me nearer, nearer blessed Lord, To the cross where Thou hast died; Draw me nearer, nearer, nearer blessed Lord, To Thy precious, bleeding side.