“I feel trapped, walled in by trials that seem to endlessly hit with painful precision,” I lamented to my husband.
For whatever reason, the Lord has allowed decades of unrelenting, layered suffering in our family’s life. Friends have jokingly called us the “one percenters” because of how many things happen to our family that only happen to “one percent of the population” (Where are my one percenters at? Statistically speaking, I know there are some of you out there!). At times, I’ve even felt embarrassed to admit that yet another difficulty or loss has descended upon us. I can almost hear the presumed whispers: “They must be doing something to bring all of this upon themselves. Nobody has thismany problems on this many levels for this long unless they’re self-inflicted.”
Some days, it all feels like more than I can bear. Or at the very least, far more than I want to bear—even if the Lord enables me to endure it. I too often have to remind my lungs to breathe, my shoulder muscles to relax, my jaw to unclench, and my disoriented mind to come back to the present moment at hand. After a while, survival mode will do that to a person. What once came naturally, now has to be coaxed, convinced it’s safe to let down its guard.
Suffering can truly change a person—especially when you see no way out, no way forward, and no hope for earthly change.
“Personally,” I continued to share with my husband, “every direction I look there’s a seemingly impossible circumstance that looms in front of me, blocking my way to the longed-for relief that lies on just the other side. I turn to the right and unrelenting pain stops me in my tracks. I turn to the left and a new form of hardship or limitation blocks my way. I look behind me, only to see endlessly layered circumstances piling brick upon brick until the shadows of darkness replace the light of earthly hope that once lingered. Like the prophet Jeremiah in Lamentations 3, I lament—
“He has walled me in so I cannot get out; he has weighed me down with chains. Even when I cry out and plead for help, he blocks out my prayer. He has walled in my ways with blocks of stone; he has made my way crooked” (vs. 7-9).”
Walled in. Weighed down. Blocked out. Disoriented by the crooked way.
Have you felt it? Have you been in such a place?
I know I’m not the only one. This Christian walk isn’t for the faint of heart, especially if the Enemy sees you as a valid threat to his kingdom and a worthy target of his arrows.
And for whatever reason, sometimes the Lord allows an exorbitant amount of suffering in some of his children’s lives. So much so, that we feel walled in from all sides—trapped, chained down, unable to escape what feels beyond what any human can bear. We cry out for help, but help (or the relief we’re pleading for) doesn’t seem to come. And we’re left to wonder—how am I to live in such a place?
Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s a simple black-and-white answer to that question. But I’d like to offer you two encouragements if you also find yourself facing a season of being “walled in” by painful and uncertain circumstances.
Ask God to help you trust him within the bounds of your circumstances if he has chosen not to change or remove them.
When we are walled in by circumstances, even downright agonizing ones, we have a choice. We either writhe and squirm in desperation to be free from them, or we gradually learn what it means to become like a weaned child, quieted and content in God’s presence as we accept the limitations and difficulties he has placed around us (Psalm 131:2). The only way to experience this is to realize that the peace and joy we desperately want is only found in resting in God’s presence within our circumstances, not in him providing a way out of them.
I don’t say this flippantly. And I don’t think we will ever do this perfectly as long as our humanity groans under the brokenness of this world. But little by little, with the Spirit’s help, we can grow in a gradual acceptance and yes, even contentment, within circumstances we desperately long to be free from.
For example, in the past 5 weeks, two of our children have broken their leg during a sporting event. One required an extensive surgery and has a long road of recovery ahead. Both are out of the activities that they love doing, with one still unsure of whether she’ll ever be able to compete again. Not long after we learned about my second child’s fractured leg, my degenerative ankle decided that now was a good time to further decline to the point that walking has becoming increasingly painful and at times, impossible. Three of our six family members are on crutches or crawling around the house when there are no available supports to use. It’s quite a sight to see.
The past few weeks have contained a lot of physical pain, fear, grief and questions of faith in my young children’s hearts. And as my strength and endurance wears thin, I’ve faced my own degree of spiritual wrestling along with them.
But little by little, I’ve also seen the blessing of each family member reaching a level of acceptance over what can’t be changed right now. Although there are plenty of “I can’t (or don’t want) to do this anymore!” moments, there are also plenty of moments when we remind each other to simply “do the next thing, and ask Jesus to give us strength for the next step.” It hasn’t removed the difficulty, but the less we’ve fought against the unwanted walls of limitation around us, the less we’ve fixated on wanting what’s on the other side of them. And the more we’ve been able to appreciate the ways God’s provided within them.
In a timely manner, my mom shared an Elisabeth Elliot quote with me this week that shared a similar sentiment:
“Life is full of things we can’t do anything about, but which we are supposed to do something with.”
We may not be able to change the circumstantial boundaries we feel trapped within, but we can decide our perspective of them, and what to do with the time and opportunities we’ve been given within them. Are we pounding our fists against our circumstantial walls, unwilling to rest until we are free? Or are we asking God to give us the grace and strength to trust his purposes within them as we wait?
Friend, you and I may be walled in by things we long to be free from, but those unwanted walls may also keep us near to the Lord and away from that which would draw our hearts far from him and what he knows is best for us.
We may not understand the boundaries we are hedged in by, but we can trust the One who has set them.
Ask the Lord for the eyes to see the good gifts he has for you in this season.
Sometimes we’re so focused on how green the grass is on the other side that we don’t take the time to notice the beautiful wild flowers growing in the grass right in front of us.
Intense suffering can very easily tempt us to believe that God doesn’t actually want what’s best for us. We believe he wants our holiness but question if he really wants our happiness as well.
No matter what our circumstances seem to say right now, we can know without a doubt that he desires both.
After all, we have a Savior who died so that we could live.
We have a Savior who tasted hell for us so we could be satisfied with heaven.
We have a Shepherd who will leave the 99 in search of the one lost sheep. (Matt. 18:12-14)
And we have a Father who loves each child as the apple of his own eye. (Zech. 2:8)
Because of that, we can know that he wants good for us right where we are. Not only in an eternal, personal growth kind of way, but in the earthly gifts he has given us to enjoy in this world, regardless of how momentary they may be.
Undoubtedly, grief and suffering can at first dull our senses to all that’s good and beautiful around us. But overtime, as the Spirit works within us through seasons of sorrow, our senses can gradually become heightened to the blessings around us. Little by little, we grow an appreciation for things we once barely noticed. We begin to cherish memories and moments that we once glanced over, awakened to the truth that they’re a gift, not a guarantee. Over time, even moments of laughter, the beauty of creation, and unexpected provisions shine brighter against the backdrop of dark circumstances.
Sometimes, we simply have to remind ourselves to take notice. To take our eyes off of what we long for and appreciate what we have right in front of us. Even King Solomon recognized this as he observed the toil and sorrow of the world: “There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil” (Eccl.2:24).
The goal isn’t to find enough pleasures to distract ourselves from the parts of life we don’t enjoy, and the goal isn’t to drown ourselves in enough momentary pleasures to numb ourselves to pain altogether. The goal is to learn to live within the bounds of our circumstances with an acceptance of what we can’t change or control, while learning to look for and appreciate the unexpected gifts God has for us as we do.
For example, I long for my daughter to heal enough to fight her way back and compete once again in the gymnastics she loves so much. I long for my son to once again enjoy being the active, athletic young man he’s always been. I long for my older son to be free from the mental torment he has suffered with for so long. I long for the day when we’re not always in a place of financial need, always worrying about how we’ll pay for the next medical bill, let alone the means to do something for the pure joy of it. And I long for the day when I will be free from a body that is constantly plagued with physical ailments… even if it never comes in my lifetime.
However, even as we long for and pray for these good desires, we can also enjoy the gifts and blessings to be found where God has us—including the provisions he blesses us with through the generosity of others. We can both acknowledge the difficult of this season and still allow ourselves to enjoy the small, unexpected blessings to be found within it.
No matter what we are facing, no matter what circumstances are hedging us in or weighing us down, there are still sweet memories to be made and moments to thank him for. There is still the gift of laughter to brighten our face, the sunshine to bask in its warmth, tasty food to savor it’s flavor, God’s created world to marvel at its beauty, and moments to experience the Lord’s personal and tangible nearness.
Lord willing, we will one day look back at this long, difficult season of suffering and thank him for keeping us hedged in, near to his presence, protection, and provision.
Right now, we may not be able to see anything beyond the walls of pain and sorrow, weighed down by the impossible circumstances surrounding us, but we can hold onto hope with the words of Jeremiah,
“Yet I call this to mind, and therefore I have hope. Because of the Lord’s faithful love we do not perish, for his mercies never end. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness!’ I say, ‘The Lord is my portion, therefore I will put my hope in him.’
For the Lord will not reject us forever. Even if he causes suffering, he will show compassion according to the abundance of his faithful love. For he does not enjoy bringing affliction or suffering on mankind” (Lamentations 3:21-24, 31-33).
One day, the hedge of affliction will be no more and the weight of our sorrows will lift. For the suffering saint, we will finally bask in the full freedom, healing, and joy that’s coming. For “there is a river whose streams delight the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. And it will once and for all refresh our souls and fulfill the longings that only eternity could fully satisfy.
Home is around the corner,
Sarah
To read more on this topic and more ways that Jesus meets us in our humanity, grab a copy of the newly released book, Jesus Will Meet You There: Finding Strength and Comfort in the Savior Who Understands
