I loved my home, my family, my comfort, and my community, and I didn't want to lose it.
But in a heartbeat, everything changed. The community I was deeply invested in and trusted, turned on me and my family. Betrayal stung deeper than physical pain. Grief clung like a shadow, reminding me every time I looked at it, of deep loss.
Yet it didn't end. Then came chronic illness. Worsening symptoms for no apparent reason, extreme limitations and pain when I tried to do things I loved, brought more loss and grief. Everything about me, everything that defined me, was suddenly gone.
I didn't even know who I was anymore. I wanted to give up on God, on my faith. Nothing seemed worth it.
Faithfulness to Christ hasn't meant a life of abandon on the mission field currently, as I frequently envisioned as a child. It hasn't required prison time, secret church meetings, beatings, or torture. No, but following Christ has still been far more difficult than I imagined...
It's meant clinging to Christ when everyone in our church turned on us.
It's meant doing what was right when things were incredibly wrong and unjust.
It's meant facing hurt and betrayal so deep from people we called friends that it left permanent scars.
It's meant enduring horrible physical pain and fatigue and isolation.
It's meant walking through lyme and co-infection treatment that I felt would kill me.
It's meant battling my deepest fears and hurt and not denouncing God.
It's meant experiencing the darkest hopelessness and not taking my own life.
It's meant not rejecting God even though I wanted to blame him for everything horrible that happened.
It's meant not rejecting God even though I wanted to blame him for everything horrible that happened.
Those things display a little of what taking up my cross has looked like for me. Most of my suffering has been in silence. It's come from the church, not outside God-haters. It's been in the isolation due to infections in my body, not isolated imprisonment by others. The "backwardness" of my suffering caused me to question everything I believed.
What hard things has God asked you to walk through? Maybe it's not the the pain of persecution or torture. But that doesn't mean it's not just as hard.
Whatever pain and heartache you wrestle with matters to God. Your questions, anger, and doubt are met with grace and compassion. Scars may remain, but you can experience healing. The trials are God's way of reclaiming your heart, revealing areas where you love something else more than Him. And in that difficult, sanctifying work of suffering, Jesus shines brighter:
Your suffering produces a beautiful reflection of Christ in you and makes you more sensitive to the hurting people around you. It can help you to love betters and stay focused on what really matters.
And that is a value greater than diamonds.
