The Goodness of God in Suffering

Scripture is littered with suffering. The Bible presents trial as a painful mercy, used by a loving God to keep us from what will not lead to our ultimate delight. We're told that it produces character; that we should pray for wisdom in the midst of it, to even count it as joy. None of us are exempt.

But I wanted to take a different angle on this suffering bit. Not because we’ve mastered the art of eternal perspective in suffering, and not because we aren’t suffering. For me, the first thing I tend to forget in the midst of struggle is God’s goodness, and I need to be reminded of it again and again.

For those of you who don’t know me very well, for the last few years and sporadically throughout my life, I’ve struggled with a moderate level of depression. I wasn’t particularly surprised by its presence; we’re told in scripture not to be when we face trials and it also plagues many women in my family. I was surprised, however, after a certain period of time when it had not gone away. I’ve felt its presence during shared meals with friends and while singing words of worship each and every Sunday. Even my own wedding day wasn’t exempt from an aching numbness I couldn’t shake. I have often felt as though I am looking out a window at a colorful world from a house where everything is gray. Initially, anything I could do or eat or say that would put me back on top of this struggle was fair game. I had a little bit of fight in me, and I was sure it was a problem that I could fix. But like a fad dieter after the crash, I felt exhausted and defeated when nothing I tried offered lasting relief. I thought I could fix my circumstances, but in reality the “fix” that was needed was vastly different than what my strength could offer. The fracture was deeper; it was in the foundation. My feelings turned on me; I started to functionally believe that God wasn’t near.

Psalm 23 has always offered great comfort to me. For those of us who grew up in church, we have this image of David in this Psalm. I remember coloring pictures in Sunday school of fair completed David, sitting by a peaceful stream stroking his sheep made of Elmer’s glue and cotton balls. In reality, David is in distress; in a place of darkness and surrounded by enemies. And yet, he describes the state of his soul in front on a loving and good god, despite his circumstances and despite what his emotions tell him. He is comforted by God’s guidance and confident in his care. David says,

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.”

When you wrestle with anxiety or depression, the noise in your mind can be deafening and in my experience, quiet moments don’t come easily. But late one night, in a still moment, I asked myself a question I still remember very vividly: “If this is where you have me, if this is my lot, will I still trust and believe that you are good?” I’ve asked myself that question in various seasons of my life, and it usually correlates with the area where I am the most discontent. I want you to ask yourself the same question. Maybe for you it’s, “if this season of singleness is what you have for me, will I still trust that you’re good? If this difficult relationship, if my to do list remains perpetually unchecked, if I fail as a mommy, if I am to wait for this forever, will I still trust your goodness?" How does a distrust of his goodness manifest itself in your heart? Self-sufficiency? Loneliness? Cynicism? Distance? An inability to rest?

This season has revealed a number of things in my heart that needed to be torn down and rebuilt. I am a recovering legalist, often led by my emotions and not truth, and I’ve stuffed trauma from the past hoping it would never surface. I have judged God’s goodness by whether or not he gives me what my heart is set on. And thank God he hasn’t given me what I’ve set my heart on. These are painful realizations, but vital and necessary for an abundant life in Christ. I have not experienced complete victory over this struggle, and perhaps I never will. We know God is able to heal all things, but often the victory doesn’t look how we think it should. Things don’t always make sense now, but on this side of heaven we walk by faith when we don’t have all of the answers we’d like.

I once read a story about some of John Wesley’s last words from his deathbed. Several friends had come to visit and shared with him the many promises of God. His response to them was, “Yes, all these promises are true. But best of all, God is with us.”

Today we can rejoice in full confidence what David only had a glimpse of. Christ, our shepherd, became the sacrificial lamb in our place, for our sin. We are brought into his flock and will not be forsaken or left. Immanuel. God with us. So for those of you who doubt these things, as I have, I want Psalm 23 to wash over you and lead you into a time of prayer.

Pray for a greater awareness of God’s goodness and be comforted by it, pray for more of his presence; pray for wisdom to get through the wait. Remember David’s confidence in the Lord’s care and be comforted by his rod and staff. If you don't find yourself in a season of suffering, you have a friend who is in that place. Let this affect your counsel to one another. Let’s trust in the promise that he will not withhold any thing that is ultimately for the good of those who trust him.