Faith In the In-Between

It was a rare moment of public confession.

The day had been difficult, riddled with both emotional and physical pain. Months before I’d received my third diagnosis of cancer — squamous cell carcinoma of the tongue, a notoriously difficult and painful cancer diagnosis. On this particular day, the cumulative impact of radiation and chemotherapy and the weight of so much grief and fear weighed heavy on me. Yes, I still believed in the goodness and presence of God. Yes, I still trusted Him and believed Him to be with me and for me. And yet, my pain — of body and soul — left me overwhelmed with despair.

That’s when I reached out to a few online friends, told the truth about my suffering, and asked for prayer. The vast majority responded with compassion, and I savored their encouragement and prayers. But one person didn’t. Although I want to believe she was well-intended, her sharp words cut me down like a knife:

“Come on now, Michele. You’re not in a wheelchair, you’re able to walk. It’s not as bad as all that.”

And with those few words, she added shame to my suffering. I needed compassion, not condemnation. But not only did she disregard and devalue my pain, but she also implied the journey of faith has no room for grief.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

• Nothing illustrates the juxtaposition of praise and pain in the life of faith quite like Passion Week.

Stretching from the joyful parade of Jesus into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday through to the glorious celebration of His resurrection on Easter Sunday, Passion Week is a journey of extreme highs and lows. Following the soberness of the Lenten Season, during which worshippers focus on our desperate need and Jesus’ devastating sacrifice, Maundy Thursday commemorates the Last Supper and Jesus' posture as a servant, Good Friday honors Jesus’ arrest, conviction, and crucifixion, and Holy Saturday mimics the sobered silence following Jesus’ unexpected death. For three days, Heaven and earth hovered in the tension of hope deferred. And when you and I sit in that silent stretch, we find we are not alone in our struggle.

God doesn’t ask us to stuff our pain or pretend we are stronger than we are. He doesn’t require us to put on a happy face and ignore our broken hearts. Instead, He urges us to bring our suffering to a Savior who understands.

 

Despised. Rejected. Punished. Stricken. Afflicted. Pierced. Crushed.

Jesus understands our suffering. He doesn’t shame or reject us because of it. He comes closer still and sits with us in it.

“Come to Me, all you who are weary and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn of Me, for I am gentle of spirit and you will find rest for your souls,” He said. — Matthew 11:28

Although I look forward to Easter Sunday and will shout “He is risen!” with true joy, my well-worn heart feels gratitude for the difficult days leading up to it. I am buoyed by knowing Jesus understands the pain of betrayal. I find comfort in Gethsemane as He wrestles with the fear of His impending suffering. And I find relief in my pain as I crawl up to the cross and bear witness to Jesus’ own.

Long before Jesus walked out of an empty tomb, He wept in a garden. And when I consider this, in tandem with His one-day return, I find new hope in my current battles. I can walk out each day of my own passion story holding both grief and praise in my two hands, knowing that faith in a crucified savior makes room for both.

When facing His own impending suffering, the Apostle Peter said it this way:

Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen. — 1 Peter 5:8-11, NIV

This is faith in the in-between, as you and I carry our crosses even while we cling to the hope of our one-day resurrection. Death still awaits us, and it’s tempting to allow the horror of today to eclipse the hallowed of our tomorrows. But there is One who descended into the depths of despair on our behalf, so although we may grieve today, there is glory awaiting us tomorrow.

He is Risen! He is risen, indeed.

Written for Devotionals Daily by Michele Cushatt, author of Faith in the In-Between.

* * *

Your Turn

If you’re suffering today, if you’re in the in-between, if you’re grieving, you’re not alone, and Jesus understands and empathizes with you. We have a Savior who knows pain, isolation, rejection, being despised, and all manner of suffering. Sadness may stay today, but glory is coming! ~ Devotionals Daily