Suffer Well

Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. Romans 5:3-4

I have probably read or heard this verse at least 100 times if not more in my lifetime. But I think I’ve always rushed by it because of the difficulty and angst that it causes. Suffering leading to perseverance leading to character leading to - at last - hope. UGH! I always thought that we could jump right to hope, that we choose hope. But now I realize, having lived and continue to live in the aftermath of Eva’s accident, that to experience the hope of God, I must first suffer.

Six years ago on an August afternoon my granddaughter, Eva, fell off a golf cart and suffered a traumatic brain injury, so severe that it changed the course of her life as well the life of her family, my life and the life of our friends. It launched in us the first step to hope - suffering.

And boy did we suffer. Did I suffer. It began in great pain, heart break and spiritual breakdown. Praying and praying that God would heal her but to no avail. Following that began the setting down of my faith. Putting distance between God and me. A desire to be alone, to be disappointed, to be angry. To wallow in my suffering.

But I found that I could only sit in suffering for so long before I began to feel a desire to wrestle with that suffering. Finally getting up off the floor to face God and what He had allowed. But then I could only do that for so long. So then I began to work through my suffering. Picking up my Bible and reading it with (angry) purpose. To find hope again in God. I walked. I argued. I worshipped. As I entered into perseverance.

My own perseverance but also watching the perseverance of Dugan and Lindsay as they fought and struggled for answers and became relentless warriors in, not only keeping Eva alive, but working tirelessly to give her a rich and an amazing life. Which, obviously, was so unimaginably difficult. But they and I persevered. If for no other reason but because we were left with no other way to live, BUT to persevere.

Which changed us all. My faith has been redefined. It has become something far deeper than I had ever experienced. My faith in God is no longer dependent on the outcome but strictly on who God was and is and is to come. He has become a very personal God. A God to whom I love and worship. And speak honestly with every single day.

And, speaking of persevering, I also went to counseling to face not only my struggle with God but also deal with some demons that I had kept hidden. Getting help to find healing for the layers of brokenness in my past and in my present. Which has led to character. 

I’d like to think that I’ve become a more prayerful and thoughtful person. I listen to others in their pain and loss and do my best to sit with them and pray with them and for them. A type of shiva - a Jewish term that describes a time when individuals discuss their loss and accept the comfort of others. I’m in no hurry for people to rush through their suffering. I understand. And I think I know, more than I ever have before, how to pray and how to wait with them for what comes next. Hope.

A hope that I, miraculously, live in today. 6 years later! A hope that I could not have arrived at were it not for the suffering, for the endurance and for the character that came before it. It’s a hope that is deep and rich and alive. And I’m so grateful to God for never leaving nor forsaking me as I fought my way to this moment.

Gary Hamrick, the pastor of Cornerstone Chapel in Virginia, calls it “suffering well.” Because if not for the suffering and working through it, I would never have gotten to this day with such unimaginable joy. To find and live in such clear and bright hope.

I don’t say this aloud to people because there’s a chance it would appear thoughtless, but it’s become a prayer that I pray for my family, my friends, even people I don’t know, specifically this week, Erika Kirk. “May you suffer well.” 

Because, whether it takes months, a year, 6 years or longer, I know without a shred of doubt that hope awaits.