My Soul, My Life, My All

Good Friday is honestly one of my favorite holidays. Certainly in the grand scheme it pales in comparison to Easter--what could be better than the celebration of a Savior rising from death to conquer death and save humankind for all eternity?! But to me, Easter feels like a small glimpse of a magnificent future yet to come--a celebration of an eternal glory beyond our current comprehension. Good Friday, on the other hand, I can relate to better. It is the acknowledgement of the necessity of suffering to bring about bliss; it is, arguably, the one moment in history when the Christ seems most human. It is the time when the one man who knew no sin still felt all the pain and suffering that it causes--the pain and suffering that we are ultimately freed from in an eternal sense, but in a very present sense we here on earth still feel it every day. Far be it from me to equate my suffering with that of the Savior of mankind, but still I say, the Christ on the cross I can relate to.

The image of the Lord suffering and dying has saved me in more ways than one. Exactly a year ago I found myself tormented by the concept of suffering. After 4 years of continuous declines in my health and (at that time) no explanation for what was causing it, much less why, I couldn't help but find myself doubting whether God was really all he was cracked up to be. I couldn't deny the existence of a higher power, but the evidence that He was a caring, loving, and eminently good person seemed to dwindle when compared with the vast amount of seemingly needless suffering in the world. Not only my own suffering was on the table, but that of the whole world. Though I tried desperately to believe that maybe I still had hope, maybe I could still be diagnosed and even cured, I was facing the reality that millions of others are not so lucky. Millions of people in the world suffer from undiagnosed, untreated, or incurable diseases--to say nothing of the other evils in the world! Why, when presented with a young, beautiful, intelligent, charismatic girl who would have done almost anything to please Him, would God choose to leave her bedridden, unable to complete basic functions much less win people for His kingdom? It was beyond unfair; it seemed downright unreasonable. And if God were so unreasonable, He was not the same God I had always trusted and believed in. I continued in this downward spiral for months. Everything I'd ever believed was being called into question. I wanted desperately to believe that goodness of the sort that I'd grown up believing could really exist. I just couldn't find it in the midst of so much pain.

I started attending church regularly again (as much as my condition allowed at the time), hoping I could either find answers or find confirmation that my worst suspicions were correct--that the God I was looking for didn't exist. Months past and little pieces of truth started worming their way into my heart, but I couldn't find the faith to really be able to trust a God who allows so much pain. It wasn't until that powerful night at a Good Friday service one year ago that something in my heart and head finally clicked. I was reminded that Christianity isn't about happiness and everything working out perfectly. True Christianity actually proclaims a very bizarre sort of happiness--the kind that usually only comes about after extreme difficulty. God doesn't say life will be easy or happy. He does say He will make it worth it. The idea of the very Son of God being sent to die painfully, only after being tortured and ridiculed, and going to His fate willingly (albeit, perhaps, reluctantly) is an extraordinarily humbling idea to confront. I have to assume that Christ understood the purpose for His suffering; however, I'm inclined to think that even if He didn't He still would have done the same. "Not my will but yours be done" doesn't include caveats about getting to know why things have to happen the way they do.

Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were an offering far too small
Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.

Hearing that age-old song written over 300 years ago, seeing before my imagination the most powerful image of love and suffering united, I finally understood who God really is. He is the God who cares so deeply for the suffering of humans that He sent His only Son to die so they could have the hope of a better future. He experienced firsthand the trials and torments of being human so that we could have a Mediator who understands our pain. He understood that even the deepest suffering can be given meaning in the end.

A God like that is worth it. At least I think so. In view of that kind of love, it is not hard to lay down my life, my soul, my all. How can I do any less? And once I do that, my life is not my own anymore--He can do with it whatever He wills. Not my will but Yours be done. I hold on to the hope that all the suffering is for a purpose and something good will come of it someday. But the truth is, even if it doesn't, it's okay. He doesn't owe me a happy ending. Then again, He's already given me one--the hope that any sufferings in this world are temporary. I owe Him everything for enduring the torment He endured on my behalf, and yet He goes a step further and rewards me with the promise of life beyond the grave free of all pain and suffering! I can most definitely believe in that kind of God. Can't you?

One year later, I already see glimpses of goodness coming out of the struggles I have had to endure. I started this blog for that very reason in fact--I now believe that my story can be a source of hope and encouragement instead of just pain and doubt. I didn't get the kind of life I expected to have when I was a kid dreaming of how I was going to change the world for Jesus. My "ministry" is a unique one, and an annoying reminder to me that God didn't need all the things I thought made me valuable--youth, beauty, charisma, etc. All He needed was a body that was fallen and a soul that was redeemed. With those, He is creating an incredible image of where grace meets suffering. What better ministry could I ask for than to be molded into a modern-day reminder of Christ on the Cross?

God is good indeed.