The Wrinkles of Pain

I glanced in the mirror this morning and something immediately caught my attention. Two prominent wrinkles were etched deeply between my eyes. I guess I’ve noticed them a little before, but today, they were more noticeable than ever. I made the face that had clearly caused them to form in the first place and it struck me: it was an expression of pain. 

Those two wrinkles that now bore a permanent mark were not formed solely through the agonizing pain I’ve endured this week through a difficult medical procedure, but they’ve been etched in overtime. Years of grimacing in pain has left its permanent mark upon me. 

The irony is that more often than not, I hear the refrain, “You look great, though! I know you say you struggle with health and other challenges, but you always seem so healthy and strong on the outside.” 

Yes, yes. But little do you know how much effort that takes. Just beneath the surface is the grimace of inner agony that created these two little wrinkles to begin with. 

That’s the thing with pain—whether it be physical or emotional. We can cover it with make-up, a smile, or an outer appearance that we wish reflected our inner reality, but eventually, pain always bears its mark somewhere. If it didn’t, we wouldn’t be human. 

However, as I felt a wave of sadness wash over me this morning at the painful story these two little wrinkles tell (a story most don’t see in full), it struck me that these “pain wrinkles” tell another story too.

For whatever reason, I’ve been called to endure a lot of pain in this life in a variety of forms. And no matter how much I put on a brave face, the effects of this world leave their mark in one way or another. But much like the oak tree that bears countless battle scars from the relentless storms it endures, beneath the surface, roots of strength and endurance have quietly grown deeper in me over time. 

Now, I don’t pretend to feel particularly strong. In fact, I feel weaker than ever in many ways. But as I think of all that these pain wrinkles testify to, it’s a reminder that I’m a miracle of grace. In myself—in my own human capacity—I wouldn’t be standing. But these wrinkles (and the various scars I bear) tell a different story. A story of Someone greater than me holding me up, growing deeper roots of faith and dependence each time the winds batter and the strikes of pain leave another mark. 

I don’t have to pretend that I’m stronger than I am. My wrinkles, weary mind, and daily challenges say otherwise, whether I like it or not. I can be honest that I’m weary—body, mind, and soul. I’ve been battered by life and God never asked me to pretend otherwise. 

But at the same time, I can be encouraged and strengthened by the evidence of something greater at work in me. Yes, the suffering of this world has left its mark, but God has deepened my roots in his strength through those very same things. 

The scars of this world may testify to what we’ve endured, but for the child of God, the strength and perseverance wrought through it tells us, and the world, whose we are. 

Do you see the visible or feel the invincible scars of this world? We all have them in one form or another. If so, and if you’re a child of God, we must learn to hold both realities in tension. Yes, we grieve them because Jesus does. Pain was never meant to be our reality. But then we need to remember that they also tell a bigger story—one that’s meant to bestow on us a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. God tells us, for those who endure, our suffering will not be the mark of who we truly are. Instead, we will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor (Isaiah 61:3). 

As Elisabeth Elliot poignantly said, 

“This hard place in which you perhaps find yourself is the very place in which God is giving you opportunity to look only to him, to spend time in prayer, and to learn longsuffering, gentleness, meekness—in short, to learn the depths of the love that Christ himself has poured out on all of us.” 

May your and my wrinkles of pain not leave us hopeless, but instead turn our eyes to the One where our hope is found. Because in the end, our scars aren’t only evidence of the pain that caused them, but of the strength we’ve been given to endure them. Because it’s those very unwanted seasons of sorrow that we learn to rest in the love and grace of Jesus when we have nothing in ourselves to give. And in the end, our scars won’t have the final word because Jesus’ scars already have. 

Home is around the corner, 

Sarah

You connect with Sarah on Instagram here. 

To read more of Sarah’s writings, you can pick up 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). Lastly, you can now order Sarah’s Pilgrim’s Progress inspired children’s book based on the account of the Prodigal Son, titled “The Long Road Home” (Crossway).