When God Shouts [Mth 3-Day 13-Post 23]

 “Pain” is the one word I would use to describe every day of my life for more than the last 18 months. When it all started, I was pregnant with my second daughter. Both pregnancies fell more on the severe end of the spectrum, far from anything comfortable or mind-glowing. Nausea chased me morning, noon and night. Spontaneous vomiting any hour of the day served more as relief than as an annoyance. Add in all the other fantastically awful side effects one might expect, plus a few more that accompanied the weight gain. Suddenly, side effects graduated into chronic health problems that led to six different surgical procedures, surrounded by months of physical therapy, muscle-relaxers, anti-inflammatories, sleep aids, braces, boots, crutches, wheelchairs, ice, heat, injections, blood work, CAT scans, MRIs, x-rays, daily doctor visits, ER visits, etc. (It’s truly amazing that I’m not addicted to some kind of prescription medication by now.)

I think it all started to make some sense when I recently heard this quote on the radio by C. S. Lewis:

We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains; it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world. 
— The Problem of Pain

Since I first became a Christian, I’ve tended to steer further away from God when experiencing suffering. When things are easy, praise flows effortlessly from my heart and mouth. I naturally want to express gratitude for His blessings, for His protection and provision. But when the trials mount, I blame God instead of praising Him. I wonder if He truly loves me. I question His power and authority.

It’s the opposite for some people. Their trials force them to seek God for help when they suddenly realize that help cannot be found anywhere else. Unfortunately, I usually exhaust all my other options before admitting my weakness and incapability to save myself.

When Alex and I got married, we chose to sing a few particular songs as we began our lives together as one worshiping the Lord. One of those songs was, “Blessed Be Your Name”:

Blessed be Your name in the land that is plentiful, where Your streams of abundance flow … When I’m found in the desert place, though I walk through the wilderness, blessed be Your name. Every blessing You pour out, I’ll turn back to praise; when the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say, blessed be the name of the Lord… When the sun’s shining down on me, when the world’s ‘all as it should be,’ blessed be Your name… Blessed be Your name, on the road marked with suffering, though there’s pain in the offering, blessed be Your name. You give and take away…. My heart will choose to say, Lord, blessed be Your name.

The end of the song is what captured my attention the most. I wanted to begin our marriage with “an open hand,” a hand which would freely allow God to give and take away whatever He wanted to in our marriage while trusting that He knows best. As difficult as any situation might be if He does choose to “take away” something dear to me—such as loved ones in particular—I still must make the choice to praise Him, rather than accuse Him or turn my back on Him.

Yes, it’s much easier said than done. And in the short eight years that we have been married, we have seen the Lord take away a number of things—family members, many friends, high hopes, and short and long-term dreams. I don’t really know that all that loss particularly propelled me towards God more. In many ways, my angry and rebellious heart wanted to run far, far away. My gracious God even allowed me to run. For a time. And then, the time came for Him to…shout.

Sometimes my three-year-old just won’t listen to me. Drives me insane. I can ask her to do something over and over again, and yet she can go about her business as if I’ve said nothing. Unless I shout. Really, really loudly. Somehow that gets her attention.

So I think I’m finally getting the message. He’s shouting through my pain, which demands attending to. He wants my attention. He wants me to choose Him, pursue Him, praise Him, believe Him. What have I to lose? Nothing. What have I to gain? Everything.

2 Corinthians 7:9-13 (MSG) says,

You let the distress bring you to God, not drive you from him. The result was all gain, no loss. Distress that drives us to God does that. It turns us around. It gets us back in the way of salvation. We never regret that kind of pain. …And now, isn’t it wonderful all the ways in which this distress has goaded you closer to God? You’re more alive, more concerned, more sensitive, more reverent, more human, more passionate, more responsible. Looked at from any angle, you’ve come out of this with purity of heart.

Maybe now that I finally figured it out, the pain will come to an end. Maybe not. Either way, my heart will choose to say, “Blessed Be Your Name.”