Pain and the Art of Being

Lesson: Learning that I don’t always have to learn

Pain: to cause (a person) distress, hurt, grief, anxiety, etc.

Life is complicated. Complex. Molded by a multifaceted God and tainted by a multifaceted people. It’s beautiful. It’s tragic. It’s messy. It’s painful.

I’m in my room following a pretty good day, pondering a feeling that I succumb to quite often. Have you ever gone to play a board game, ecstatic to get to spend time with people you love, only to realize that all the pieces weren’t there? That’s what my life tends to feel like. Like it’s supposed to be this beautiful gift that brings joy and fulfillment, but it’s missing pieces — pieces that you can’t play without. 

…I’ve lost more than I’ve won
I’ve cried more than I’ve sung
And in my desperation, I’ve called out to the story maker
The divinely sovereign creator
The author
The one who holds then pen
And I’ve begged
Pleaded
With my face to the ground
For him to write

To write in a plot twist that catches the viewers off guard 
To notice that there’s a character who deserves to win
For once
To be free
To experience the fruits of redemption
To receive love
Real love
The kind that chases and doesn’t hold back
The kind that won’t get stripped away
The kind to internalize
The kind that’s for him

God
I don’t mean to pretend that I can write a better story
But at times I wonder if he’s the author’s least favorite character
What if
What if we changed the script…


- THE UNFINISHED SCRIPT BY CHRISTIAN SANDERS

Distress, Hurt, Grief

It’s caused much hurt as I lost all my closest and dearest relationships all while losing my mother … only to be followed by further rejection and lack of pursuit.

It’s caused much grief as I mourned the loss of the journey I’d come to realize will never be: one with connected roads, connected purpose, connection.

May 14, 2022 at 5:37 a.m.

Nearly two years ago, I began writing the words you’re about to read (granted, that is if you continue to the end). It began with a phone call from my mother telling me the tumor in her abdomen had grown, but she was believing God for healing.

This was a very bleak time in my life, so these words are raw and real. So real that I couldn’t even read them for two years, let alone finish them. So real that I didn’t want to include them in this post. But this blog is called “Unapologetically Christian,” and I have to be true to that and honest about what that means. I am a steadfast, immovable, committed Christian: full of faith. And I am also just…Christian: full of flaws. And if I’m honest, some of these words still resonate with me deeply.

So here they are:

If I’m honest, sometimes I feel like God hates me. I know that’s not true, but it’s how I feel. Today was one of those days. 

Before I get into details, let’s compound this with another story. Yesterday, I had to have a hard conversation with my brother — a conversation that I’ve honestly been avoiding. He had some concerns, and he wondered if I felt the same way. I had to be honest: Despite the fact that I am full of faith and choose to believe (because believing IS a choice) that God will heal my mother, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s going to die from cancer.

I’ve never admitted this to anyone because I couldn’t fathom saying those words. I get these almost prophetic feelings all the time. I’ve never been wrong, and that infuriates me. Every time I get this feeling that something terrible is going to happen, I desperately pray and plead with God that I’d be wrong, and this is the biggest instance of me literally dying to just be wrong for once.

So to pick up where I left off, today was all about trying to get through my workday without being succumbed to the thought of my mom — my greatest love; the most perfect person I know; the kindest, most thoughtful, most loving, most deserving woman in the world — being taken from me.

When you talk about how much life sucks at times, everyone wants to say, “Be grateful. At least you’re alive,” or “Thank God you’re alive.” But to me that’s the worst part. The only thing that keeps me going is my purpose; outside of that, when I look at my life, there’s nothing about it that makes me really WANT to be alive. It just doesn’t look like a life that’s worth living. So if I’m honest, a big part of me wishes I would have died in that car crash. Having to live in this hellhole called life is actually the worst thing to ever happen to me.

Pain: to cause (a person) distress, hurt, grief, anxiety, etc.

Pain is an interesting thing. It can hover over us like the very hairs on our skin — so close and so much a part of us that we just can’t shake it. Then, when it leaves the forefront of our focus, it can become interwoven into our very being, akin to our nervous system. Something that’s hidden, something we don’t consciously think about, but internally it’s in the driver’s seat making all of the movements we so ignorantly think we’re in control of. 

It reigns. Sometimes you get a grip — Therapy is a beautiful thing, and God works wonders. But there will always be vestiges … begging to win … begging to take control.

You win some; you lose some. And sometimes there are a lot more losses than wins. I don’t have a resolution to this one. I’ve matured enough to realize that every song doesn’t need to come to a resolve, and sometimes the lesson is to sit, reflect, and acknowledge more than it is to learn anything. So as much as it pains me, this one’s just going to have to have an abrupt