Her tears fell freely as I wrapped my arms around her shoulders near the end of the funeral.  Her young heart filled with sorrow as she processed the loss of a friend-forever in her mind.  Maybe not really forever, but when you are young, a lifetime can feel like forever. 

We live each day with our ‘everyday’ blinders on.  One action, one appointment, one thought, at time.   There isn’t time for thinking, or caring, or stopping in our busy, over-packed schedules…until pain calls out your name.

And then, everything comes to a screeching halt; life turns upside down, nothing is familiar, and you find yourself looking and longing for the comfort of the ‘everyday’.

But it can’t be found because pain has chased it away. 

And instead you find yourself swirling in fear, despair, or gut-wrenching sorrow.  It feels as though pain is a cruel enemy sent, or maybe just allowed, by God to forever steal away all that is good and full in your life.

Maybe not really forever; but when you are in pain, time can feel like forever.

And as you walk through the lonely days and long nights, you cry out to God for more grace, more strength, more peace, and some hope, begging Him for even just one glimpse of joy — anything to take away the suffocating feelings of darkness.   You can’t feel Him, you can’t see Him, and you wonder sometimes, if He was ever there at all?   

“He will never give you more than you can handle,” they say.

Your heart bristles in irritation at the comment; sometimes silence is more desirable than the stupid or awkward things that people say when pain calls your name.

Yes, we know that He doesn’t give us more than we can handle, but He does give us more than we THINK we can handle, and that is what leaves us curled up and breathless in our pain.

And when you feel all is forever lost with that life, that disease, or that loss; when you have utterly forgotten why you are even still here…suddenly small glimpses of light begin to peek through that wretched-and what feels like forever-darkness.

As friends remember again to reach out to one another with arms opened wide; arms that for too long have been closed because life is so busy…

As women, those beautiful women, bustling around together in a kitchen with tears in their eyes, but love in their hearts; as they pour out beauty as only they can do upon their sister who has lost and realizing it could have been any of them that were called by this pain.  And each one holds her child a little closer, a little tighter that night…

As a song, a beautiful song filled with hope, filled with holiness is sung.  A song sung by one so young, and yet, so brave, as her voice fills the room so His presence can fill our hearts reminding us that He was really there all the time and how could He, a Father, ever really forget us?

And finally, in those words-words that were meant to be whispered in life-but are now spoken freely in death by those who were meant to speak them.  Words that were meant to lift, to free, and to love.  Hoping, of course, to be carried up to reach the highest heavens, but really being poured into those of us who are left in the lowest places, and so in of need lifting…

We don’t get to choose how or when pain comes in to our lives.  Pain comes because humanity is broken, and lost in sin without Him.   But maybe the choice we do get is REALLY the choice that matters.  What it does to us and what we do with it- this He has left in our hands.  We can choose to never let it be wasted.  Maybe the feeling that it always feels like more than we can handle is pain showing us God is stronger than we think, which makes us stronger than we think.   And both need to be seen.

And that just like choosing carefully the words of a song, or the words of a story, life is about choosing what matters most, letting go of what doesn’t, and realizing our ultimate purpose for being here.  It’s the truth that in our loving, and in our leading, and in our letting out words locked up in our hearts, and yes, even now in our losing, we were made to know Him and be known by Him.

And so maybe it doesn’t matter so much that pain knows our name.  Maybe all that really matters is that God knows our name.  

And that He thinks a thousand thoughts about us.  And that His heart breaks for us and over us.  And when the load in our heart becomes too heavy, He reaches down and in great love, He carries us.   And when He carries us forward we can find and see that His grace, and His strength, and His peace, and His hope, and perhaps, even His joy, was there all the time, even in the darkness.

And maybe our pain is really a chance for God to be glorified in us and through us, and revealed to this world that is so broken, and so very lost in their sin without Him.  Would that make pain our friend?

I’m afraid not.

But rather than fear pain, perhaps we are being asked to bravely face pain like that young one, with a song so rich in her heart, so that He can shine through us like her song into the darkness.  And we are never again the same as we shine more brightly, in spite of and perhaps, even because of, our pain.  And maybe, then there would be less darkness and more light.

And isn’t that really the point?

To leave the world better, to leave the world brighter, than when we  first got here, and help humanity know their Father, who will never– not ever– forget us?

So maybe pain is an invitation to proclaim the truth that life is really about loving, and sometimes losing, and through it all, finding ourselves longing.  Longing deeply for the essence of what we were made for…that beautiful wonderful, and glorious day when God-finally and forever — calls us by name.