A life of suffering

I have been in a writing mood. I have had lots of thoughts over the past few weeks. Between my husband's difficult sermon message last week and reading Donald Miller's newest book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, I have thought about what my life means. And I'll warn you now that this isn't a fluffy, pleasant post. And it invloves a lot of personal reflection.
Miller talks about our life as a story. He places our life into the elements of story--what makes a good story. And Danny preached a sermon on 1 Peter 3:18-4:6. "Therefore since Christ suffered in His body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude. . . " (4:1) Basically, a good story, a good life, and following Christ means suffering. You have to suffer to get somewhere, to make a story worth sharing, a life worth living.
I have had pain in my life. The year 1997 was hell for me and my family. I experienced the deepest pain I had ever experienced--the kind that makes you feel like your heart is literally being ripped from your chest.
That year was a turning point for me. I never expected life to be perfect or pain free after that. Watching my parents seperate and my world as I knew it crash down around me taught me that pain is always waiting just around the corner. Some may call that cynicism or pessimism, but I call it realism. Since then I have almost never struggled with the question "Why do bad things happen to good people?" First of all, I know none of us is "good." And Jesus, who was the only good person to walk this earth, suffered greatly. And I know that I am living in a fallen world that is for the moment still in Satan's clutches. So it rarely shocks me when bad things happen. . .
The beauty of it is that I had never been so close to God (or my family) as during that painful time. The truth of it is that God does use the pain of our life to perfect us more like Him.
My biggest fear in suffering is death. I have had experience with death. In 2000 my mother-in-law died in a car crash. I still miss her. In 2005 my neice Zoe Dawn died just 2 1/2 days after birth. We lived with David and Christina when they got Zoe's initial diagnoses. I will never forget the evening they told us Zoe had trisomy 13, or the weeks that followed as we gave way to hope. . .and the beauty of holding her precious little body in my arms. . .and then saying good-bye. . .
The only time I do remember being very angry with God for bad things happening to people is after we got the call that my nephew Micah David was being taken from David and Christina. Their loss of Zoe was still very fresh and now they were suffering yet again. . . It didn't seem fair.
I "suffered" during our two years as missionaries in the bush of Kenya. I "suffered" a little when we found out the diagnoses of Noah's glaucoma. I suffer when I hear of friends' whose marriage is being ripped apart and children whose world is being ripped apart and think of friends who have been unable to have children. . .
But a lot of the suffering seems to happen to others. Especially in the past several years, I feel like in my own little bubble I have been so blessed. I have easily given birth to four beautiful children who are alive and healthy. I am married to my best friend. We live in a beautiful home with all our neccesities met and for the moment we are all healthy. . . I see and hear suffering all around me, but I am personally untouched by such tragedies--for now.
I always fear the tragedy waiting around the corner. And I fear most that it might involve the death of my husband or children. I always think I wouldn't live through it. . . But I also know that God is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love and faithfulness, even in pain and suffering.
I also know that if I am to truly love as Christ does, and serve as Christ did then I am also called to suffer as Christ did. . .In the eternal picture this life is meant to bring me, and all others I can affect, closer to Christ--more like Him. And there is an eternity that awaits me that will wipe away every tear and mend all the wounds of this life. . .
Until then I wonder about what kind of story my life is. I worry I am not always doing my part in Christ's body. I know my own selfishness and tendency to self-indulge. . . I know that I am weak and I too often sit complacently in my comfortable world. I wonder and I worry and I fear that if I were doing all that I should be that I would have more pain. . .
I am the only sibling in my family who does not have a tatoo. I don't really want one. But lately I have thought if I got one it would be "The LORD'S" in Hebrew on my wrist, based on Isaiah 44:5--to signify that I am the LORD's, and in a permanent physical way so that even if I were physically tortured (one of my other fears of suffering) I would not be able to deny Him.
Perhaps part of it is also how I classify suffering. Noone can quantify someone else's suffering or compare. . .and there are different forms of suffering. Whatever the suffering, I pray for God's grace and strength to help me through it in a way that is honoring to Him.
So may I live in Christ's Spirit and let Him be the author of my story--no matter what suffering He writes into my life. I trust that all He does is for His glory and my ultimate perfection.