The way of escape

I was at our staff retreat this past weekend (no work, all play, don't worry!), and we were reading and talking about suffering, as many of us have had a very hard year. We'd read a piece by Joni Erickson Tada about her accident and subsequent journey from anger at God to peace. The turning point for her was not the gobs of friends who sat by her hospital bed and read the Bible to her, but when her friend Jackie snuck into her room after hours, snuggled up next to her in her bed, and held her hand...holding it up so Joni could see her squeeze it, since she couldn't feel it. It was love that opened Joni's heart and suddenly she didn't need answers to all of her questions.

We started highlighting the points of the story that were meaningful for us. True to (awkward?) form, I wanted to make the discussion real, so I blurted out (through tears, ugh) something about how on Thursday I'd been so done with the work day
and I'd lugged the bulletins all the way to Kinkos
and stood there for 10 minutes (because they always take so long)
and then they told me the folder was broken
and I just stared at the guy
and...it was the last straw
and I had a meltdown with God
and told Him exactly what I thought of my life and how He was treating me,
and then I somehow found peace.
But my real question had nothing to do with bulletins but life: “how do I deal with suffering when life doesn’t let up and I can’t seem to find rest for my soul?”

We all kind of sat there after my blurt, until Glenn said something to try to comfort me. And Jean Baldwin sought me out afterward with words of deep understanding and wisdom. But I spent the rest of the weekend obsessing about how I'd made things awkward and piled my junk on other people and should try to be more sensitive next time.

However, blurts get God's attention. And His help, His breakthroughs, His peace. David knew it, and I am learning it.

During Glenn's sermon Sunday night God whispered “the answer” (really just His love, like Jackie) through I Corinthians 10:13. In every trial and every temptation, He not only has measured it out according to what I can handle, but embedded in the trial is a “way of escape.” It’s there. He always puts it there. And I can look for it. I must look for it. It will get me through. Kind of like a treasure hunt, the search for the golden Way of Escape. Follow the yellow brick road.

But the main point is...His love. I get most upset because I think the trial reveals He doesn’t care, that He’s trying to hurt me, that I really am all alone in this world and have to fend for myself. But if the trial is a Hand-crafted work of love for my benefit, how much more is the way of escape? How much more would He be designing a specific mercy, or a heap of mercies—and lessons and truths and illuminations—to lavish on me through the ordeal and afterward. I was so humbled by my lack of faith, attributing to God un-love, even indifference and malice (though it sure feels like that sometimes, eh? How to balance His sovereignty with the presence of evil...another question for the universe).

“In all their affliction, He was afflicted; and the angel of His presence saved them...” (Isaiah 63:9)