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I stood in the doorway of Mother's nursing home
room and wept quietly. She couldn't see me. She
sat in the chair beside her bed with her head on
her knees, a few small pillows wedged behind her
back and a pink shawl pulled across her frail and
bony shoulders. She was moaning softly, "Dear God,
help me. Please, God, help me."
Tears ran in rivulets down my face as I asked God
again, "Why? Why is this dear saint of God
suffering so? She's 96 years old. She's suffered
with unrelenting pain all her life. And if that
wasn't enough, why did she have to break her leg
walking down the hall and lie in agony for many
weeks in a cast with the leg never properly
healing? Please help me understand the problem of
pain. Please."
One very early morning before sunrise, God in His
mercy took Mother Home to be with Him. Her two
daughters who lived near the nursing center
watched as she was placed in a body bag and
carried out. From their exhaustion in overseeing
her care for several years, they cried in their
grief but thankful that her long battle with
unending pain was finally over.
That was nine years ago. I am just now beginning
to understand the problem of pain because I live
with it. I wish I had understood it while Mother
was still living. I could have empathized more and
ministered to her better. Before, I was an
observer of pain. Now I am a participant, however
reluctantly.
I have watched televangelists declare healing to
precious believers who are brought en masse to
their meetings. I have seen crutches being tossed
carelessly aside, wheel chairs pushed against the
walls as invalids were encouraged to walk or run
across the platform to the applause and shouting
of thousands in the audience. I pray many were
healed instantly but what of those who were not?
Did they return home in abject, total
disappointment with God, still not understanding
the reason for their pain? Did they continue to
declare healing when none was forthcoming? Worst
of all, did they begin to lose their faith in the
One who had saved them?
As evangelical Christians, we are taught early
that there is healing in the atonement. "By his
stripes we are healed." (Isaiah 53:3) And "He
Himself took our infirmities and bore our
sicknesses. (Matthew 8:17) We reason, "If we can
trust Christ for our salvation, can we not also
trust Him for our healing? God never turns away
one soul who confesses his sin and asks for
forgiveness through the atoning blood of Jesus.
Why does He seem to be capricious and selective in
choosing those who will be healed from their
sickness and those who will not?"
Theologians have battled this discussion for
centuries and have yet to come up with compelling
reasons for pain that fully satisfy those who are
hurting.
But for me, it has been reduced to one simple
explanation: healing is temporal but grace is
eternal. Given a choice, I will take grace every
time.
Grace has been defined as "the free and unmerited
favor or beneficence of God" or "God’s love and
favor to the undeserving."
The same God who has saved me from my sins, who
has promised me eternal life, can be trusted to
know what I need to do to be more like His Son,
Jesus. He decides how much of the boiling cauldron
I need to endure, not only for my benefit but for
those watching my life. In His divine wisdom, He
determines who is selected to share in "the
fellowship of His suffering." (Philippians 3:10)
Should we pray for a divine touch of healing on
those who suffer?
Yes. And we should pray earnestly and without
ceasing, exercising faith and holding onto the
promises of God. But never should we pile guilt on
the infirmed by declaring that their lack of faith
is the sole reason for their not being healed.
My friend, Edith, was stricken with polio and
paralyzed from the chest down. She was approached
by a member of her church who challenged her to
get up out of her wheelchair by faith and walk.
She couldn't and he berated her. She wiped away
her tears and kept her faith and trust in the
Saviour of her soul. It wasn't in God's plan to
heal her on earth but He gave her a sterling
Christian testimony that defined her for years
until God called her Home. We are encouraged by
God to pray for healing; we do not have the
freedom to insist on healing by demand..
My mother's extended family watched her suffering
all her life, but they remember most of all her
unfailing faith. Her walk with God was not uneven;
it was consistent. Her testimony was positioned
there permanently as a standard against which the
rest of us measured our lives. Her "problem of
pain" was no accident; it was not indifference by
God to her anguish and travail. God used her pain
for a reason: it was to refine her and to give her
a lasting testimony to the grace of God under
pressure, tremendous pressure. Even in her tears
and suffering, she knew she might not understand
God's ways, but she could trust His loving heart.
When I was in college, our Old Testament
professor, Rev. Harold Freligh, drew a large
circle on the blackboard. He placed a dot in the
center. Under it he wrote in large letters:
"In the center of the circle of the will of God I
stand.
There can come no second causes,
All must come through His dear hand."
Rev. Freligh did something else that has sustained
me, especially now as I deal with my own pain. He
drew a long horizontal line on the blackboard and
explained, "This represents a shelf. On it I place
all my questions for which I have no answer. When
I get to Heaven, God will patiently explain each
one to my full and complete satisfaction."
And so it is with pain. I don't know why a dear
six-year-old boy who loves Jesus is battling
leukemia in an Illinois hospital today. I don't
know why my younger Christian friend in Tennessee
spends 22 out of 24 hours of every day in bed,
weakened and ravaged by Multiple Sclerosis. I
can't explain why my lovely friend in Arizona
struggles with the insidious and devastating pain
of Sarcoidosis for which there is no adequate
treatment and no medical cure.
I have placed each one of these friends on my
"shelf," confident that their pain is not in vain,
knowing that they haven't been forgotten by God or
overlooked in His scheme of things. Each one is
ministering every day of their lives to the
wonderful grace of Jesus, that eternal principle
which makes their pain meaningful and their
testimonies so enduring.
Mariane Holbrook is a
retired teacher, an author of two books, a
musician and artist.
She lives with her
husband on coastal North Carolina. She maintains
a personal website
www.marianholbrook.com and welcomes
your Emails at Mariane777@bellsouth.net.
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