I slowly worked my way to the window and opened the blinds for the first time in over a week. My world had shrunk down to the next time I could take more pain meds, the next time I had to force down a little food and fluids to keep the ER at bay, and the next time I had to make the dreaded long walk to the bathroom.
My world had come to a screeching halt. It began months ago with debilitating achiness and a lack of appetite for unknown reasons, but most severely when an unusually bad case of Influenza and other infections began to overwhelm my body to the point of yearning for unconsciousness more than anything else.
From there, it set off a firestorm in my body that left me bed-ridden, unable to walk, and in physical agony.
I told my husband that I felt like a shell of a life. “I’m no longer living,” I said. “I’m simply alive – and it seems, barely that at times.” As the days turned to weeks and the weeks dragged on with little relief, I had to wrestle with deeper questions than ever before.
What’s the point?
Is this a life worth living if this is all I’m left with?
Why would God allow a wife and mom of four to become so debilitated, that her children wonder if they’ll ever have back the mom they once knew, and her husband primarily become caretaker rather than life partner?
What does living look like when you can’t leave your bed or escape the misery you’re trapped in?
Is it possible to not live in a state of despair?
I still don’t know the answers to all of those questions. But as the hope of healing felt more distant by the day, I was forced to ask them.
The one thing I do know is that I’ve learned how fundamentally fragile and dependent we are. We don’t grasp the magnitude of that until our entire being is stripped of the ability to do anything but simply breathe through the agony one breathe at a time.
A few weeks ago, when one of my children broke down at the sight of my frailty, and evidence of her mom’s body wasting away before her, it struck a new nerve of grief over how debilitating pain isn’t just about you and I (regardless of whether it’s physical, mental, or emotional). It affects everyone around us, which makes it all the more painful.
So the question my family and I have had to wrestle with is this: when the healing we long for isn’t a guarantee, and the life we once knew may never be the same, does our life still have purpose and value when what we do and how much we do is reduced to virtually nothing but existing?
It does – because the God who gave us life tells us it does. We are not a random mass of cells who live and die by chance. No, we are designed and sustained by the God of the universe.
“For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.”
Psalm 139:13-16
If God has given you and I breath, then our life has value – because the Giver of physical and eternal life gives meaning to every breath. No, we won’t always understand or feel that within our limited beings, but I don’t think he expects us to. We do, however, need to fight for truth and hope with a strength beyond our own when our bodies, minds, and emotions tell us otherwise, and we experience despair that threatens to swallow us whole.
If I never walk again. If I never feel “healthy” again; if I never get to be the mom and wife I long to be again (at least my version of what that should look like); if I never get to write again; and if my life is simply stripped down to the bare bones of humanity – then what do I have left?
Right now, all I can say is this: I am precious, loved, and valued to the fullest extent in Jesus’ eyes – no matter what I can give in return. And so are you.
You and I are not the sum of what we do or what we have to show for ourselves. We are children of God who are dependent on him to endure the next breath, and loved by a Father who sees our anguish, bore it on the cross, and carries it with us now. And thank goodness this isn’t all there is. The pain won’t last forever. Our relationship with Jesus will. Maybe that’s the most profound reality any of us can truly grasp, but we don’t fully understand it until there’s nothing left to fall back on.
And when we find ourselves in this place, we understand the words of Romans 8:26-27 in a way like never before:
“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.”
Sometimes, we simply have no words or the ability to express them. So the Spirit says them for us.
Lord willing, the day will come when we will either see his faithfulness in healing or his good purposes in our pain. But until then, we can rest in his sustaining grace – even if from our bed of agony.
“I waited patiently for the Lord, and he turned to me and heard my cry for help. He brought me up from a desolate pit, out of the muddy clay, and set my feet on a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and they will trust in the Lord.”
Psalm 40:1-3
Home is around the corner,
Sarah
To read more of Sarah’s writings, you can purchase a copy of He Gives More Grace: 30 Reflections for the Ups and Downs of Motherhood, Hope When It Hurts: 30 Biblical Reflections to help you grasp God’s purpose in your suffering), Tears and Tossings (short evangelistic resource on how God carries our sorrows), or Together Through the Storms (for married couples navigating the trials of life).
Set Apart 
I’m not sure why I am so drawn to your words, but I’m so grateful God has given them to you to share. Life here is hard. I’m so glad it’s not our forever home. Continuing to pray for your healing, and also praying for your family as this must be devastating to them. May you continue to rest in His everlasting arms as He holds you fast.
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Thank you, Susan. That means so much to me!
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Just as I laid down to rest away my chronic pain, as I have so often have done these last nine years, I reached for my phone just to find an email from SetApart in my inbox. What impeccable timing to read such a post. I just want you to know how touched I was by it today. I was brought to tears reading through it. My family and I can relate in many ways. God has a wonderful purpose for you and the pain he has allowed in your life. I have been so blessed and encouraged by your inspired words from God. Knowing there is someone who also fights chronic pain like me and is trusting God through the it makes me believe I can persevere too, for his glory. Many days I feel like I just exist, but God sees the big picture and will work all things together for good to those who love him and are called according to his purposes. God bless you, Sarah. Thank you for sharing your gift of writing with us all. Stay strong in the Lord. He is coming again soon!
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Oh Kristina, I love hearing things like this. It’s such a reminder that God is sovereign over all of these things, connecting us from places all over the world with the encouragement we each need. I’m so sorry that you also deal with chronic pain, though. It’s such a hard road. But I’m thankful we aren’t alone on that road and can spur one another on, even on the hardest days. Pressing on with you.
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Sarah, every time I read your blog I pray for you. Your words of encouragement in the midst of your own pain give so much hope. Your book (Hope When it Hurts)has been a constant source of inspiration to my daughter who suffers from Lyme and EDS…as well as a group of 5 friends in the midst of great heartache. thank you for being faithful. It will be worth it all…and you are so right…home is right around the corner.
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Jenny, that means so much to me. Thank you! Praise God that HWIH has also been ministering in such a tangible way. That’s our prayer!
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Wakened in a non-ordinary way in the middle of the night, I am just lifting you and your unspeakable pain and longing, and the needs of your dear ones, up to the Father. Asking Him to relieve you and strengthen you and provide every single thing your heart and body needs—for you and your loved ones who are struggling also.
Psalm 31:7-8
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I read this through tears. I’m so sorry and I’m praying for you, but please know that your faith is an encredible encouragement to me. I am convicted and challenged as I walk through my own trauma. Thank you for sharing your journey here. Thank you for always pointing back to Him.
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Praise God for that, Lizzy. And thank you so much for your prayers and encouragement in return!
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I look forward to every blog you share and often wish you would do more so I can have more to read. I’m always encouraged and inspired by your words! I am praying for you! Thank you for being an Ambassador of Christ!
2 Corinthians 1:3-4
Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort;
[4] who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.
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Thank you for that encouragement. I feel like God is sewing some deep seeds in my heart right now, so I think I will have more coming as I process it on “paper”. I’m so thankful they’ve been an encouragement!
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Sarah, dear sister and co-laborer in Christ, my heart aches for you and your family. Praying that you can endure until Christ calls you home. I love you.
2 Corinthians 12:9-10 9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
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I am proud of you.. your longing to hang on to hope. I have released my hope and I fear my future now. I feel like im fighting not only the issue but myself too. Or the flesh .. the parts that want to focus on me. I feel like I’ll never stop this war and I hate it.
than you for the encouragement you give, to just be present, even if just in breath, united in spirit with His Spirit.
I’m asking many questions right now too. feels like I can’t do anther day.. but somehow he gets you through to the next. it isn’t how i want things to go.. its not only physical ailments, but it’s one’s own self that has to attack off as well… its this present age of darkness, right at your ankle seeking to devour you wholly… I am thankful for recounting that we are circumcised with Christ and transferred out of the kingdom of darkness, and moved to the kingdom of Light, where Christ is seated in the heavenlies.
oh this momentary afflicting of life feels like eternity… when it’s every single day suffering.. God help us to have and receive YOUR peace for each moment to seek after the peace of Jesus and not think on ourselves, and all our wonderings……(“for he himself is our peace” ephesians. Please let that be satisfying to us). please heal our hurting hearts and bodies.. help our minds to always be present in spirit with you. thank you for giving us this precious holy spirit sealed inside of us.
God bless you Sarah, and give you his grace and peace 🩷 I’m so thankful for you and these resources you’ve shared.. im. So sorry for your hardships… you are not alone. I relate so much to your writings.. God strengthen our weariness, so we can have a song in our hearts and in our mouths for You.
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Thank you for sharing these honest words. I don’t have chronic pain, but I suffer from MS and just lost my ability to walk within the past year, which has been devastating. Truly, to even exist and know Christ and belong to him is enough, even if it doesn’t feel that way. Praying for you and your family right now.
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