The worst pain I’ve ever experienced was the most intimate season with my Savior. As I walked through the grief after Dan died, I became utterly dependent on God and came to know Him in way I never would have otherwise. The hidden gift of difficulty is drawing close to God. Scarlet Hiltibidal shares how suffering and disappointment can deepen faith and find joy in Him.
This is the second summer we’ve lived in our house and the second summer we’ve had an HVAC unit decide to die in ninety-degree temperatures. Last year, it was the unit that cools the main part of our house. Impossible. Miserable. Sweltering. So, we got it replaced. A man saved in my phone as “Keith AC guy” swooped in and solved our problems in exchange for many dollars.
This year, it was our second, smaller unit that went out, so the only rooms affected were the bedrooms of our two youngest daughters, who basically live for special nights on the fold out couch bed downstairs—a treat that usually only happens when I’m out of town traveling for work.
“Girls, you all are going to have to spend some nights on the couch bed while we get the AC unit worked out.” The joy was instant, palpable, and voluminous. So much rejoicing. So much celebration. While Dad and I were wringing our hands over the big expenses that come with home ownership, the littles were rejoicing in their forced slumber party, their change of bedtime scenery, and their close proximity to our bedroom. My youngest told me that she loves sleeping downstairs because she loves being on the same floor as Mommy and Daddy.
It struck me, how beautiful it is, that the obvious discomfort and inconvenience of sauna-like summer bedrooms were overshadowed by the happiness of two little girls who get to sleep together and be closer to Mom and Dad. If only I viewed hardship that way. If only I saw suffering, big and small, the way the Bible paints it: as an ever-present opportunity for more dependence on and closeness with my heavenly Father. As a way to draw closer to my spiritual siblings as we wait out the night together. The stunning nature of the Christian life is that this viewpoint is true. The seasons of hurting are always a chance to celebrate moving closer to Dad.
The Gift of Pain and Real Happiness
C. S. Lewis wrote a book called The Problem of Pain, and in it he talked about how difficult it is to be happy in Jesus when the surface-y things of life are going well for us. He wrote, “If the first and lowest operation of pain shatters the illusion that all is well, the second shatters the illusion that what we have, whether good or bad, is our own and enough for us. Everyone has noticed how hard it is to turn our thoughts to God when everything is going well with us. We ‘have all we want’ is a terrible saying when ‘all’ does not include God. We find God an interruption. As St. Augustine says somewhere, ‘God wants to give us something, but cannot, because our hands are full—there’s nowhere for Him to put it.’ Or as a friend of mine said, ‘We regard God as an airman regards his parachute; it’s there for emergencies but he hopes he’ll never have to use it.’ Now God, who has made us, knows what we are and that our happiness lies in Him. Yet we will not seek it in Him as long as He leaves us any other resort where it can even plausibly be looked for. While what we call ‘our own life’ remains agreeable we will not surrender it to Him. What then can God do in our interests but make ‘our own life’ less agreeable to us, and take away the plausible source of false happiness?”
Oof. If that doesn’t make you feel something, your hands might be overwhelmingly full. I know mine often are. I’m aware that a broken HVAC unit only affecting two rooms is a very “first-world problem,” as they say. But, lately, this year in particular, my family has faced several heavier disappointments, and I’ve struggled to remain hopeful as painful circumstances have piled up.
I forget what a gift we have in the simple presence of God. I forget that going to Him is what I was made for; His presence, in the end, is all there is. I forget that every temporary thing I long to have here on earth is a gift meant to point me to His creativity, help me depend on His care, and lead me to bask in His glory.
As Lewis said, “God wants to give us something,” and it’s THAT something which will give us real happiness, not the kind of flimsy happiness we can find from a controlled home temperature or a fun phone game or a compliment from our spouse or a bonus at work. I want real happiness. I want the lasting kind, and I want it for my family too. Happiness can’t be taken away when lesser comforts are removed. I want the Psalm 1 kind of happiness.
“How happy is the one who does not walk
in the advice of the wicked or stand in the
pathway with sinners or sit in the company of
mockers! Instead, his delight is in the Lord’s
instruction, and he meditates on it day and
night. He is like a tree planted beside flowing
streams that bears its fruit in its season, and its
leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.
The wicked are not like this; instead,
they are like chaff that the wind blows away.
Therefore, the wicked will not stand up in the
judgment, nor sinners in the assembly of the
righteous. For the Lord watches over the way
of the righteous, but the way of the wicked
leads to ruin.” (Psalm 1, CSB)
Excerpted from Scarlet Hiltibidal’s new book, Hopeful-ish: Sadness, Weariness, Donkey Attacks, More Sadness, and Other Stuff You Need the Gospel For.
Scarlet Hiltibidal is the author of Afraid of All the Things, Hopeful-ish, You’re the Worst Person in the World, He Numbered the Pores on My Face, and the Anxious and Ashamed Bible studies. She writes regularly for HomeLife Magazine and She Reads Truth. Scarlet enjoys speaking to women around the country about the freedom and rest available in Jesus. She and her husband live in Texas, where she loves hanging out with her four kids, writing for her friends, and studying stand-up comedy with a passion that should be reserved for more important pursuits.
