{"id":31132,"date":"2022-09-10T15:18:09","date_gmt":"2022-09-10T20:18:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.biblia.work\/sermons\/how-pain-and-loss-lead-to-deeper-ministry\/"},"modified":"2022-09-10T15:18:09","modified_gmt":"2022-09-10T20:18:09","slug":"how-pain-and-loss-lead-to-deeper-ministry","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.biblia.work\/sermons\/how-pain-and-loss-lead-to-deeper-ministry\/","title":{"rendered":"How Pain and Loss Lead to Deeper Ministry"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Jarl Schmidt photo – Unsplash<\/div>\n

By Brenda Croston<\/em><\/p>\n

Thursday, April 12, 2007: The room was quiet\u2014peacefully so. The sound of heart monitors, I.V. drips, feeding pumps, and the like stilled. Family members, the pastor, and I all stood still, too. <\/em><\/p>\n

Mya\u2019s limp frame rested in my arms. A nurse instructed me to place my sweet baby on the bed so she could prepare her body for the mortician\u2019s arrival. <\/em><\/p>\n

Mom stood on my right, her heart weighted with grief as she watched me, her baby girl, lay my own baby girl down for the last time. <\/em><\/p>\n

This was not the first time this kind of peaceful quiet invaded our usually noisy space. Seven years prior, a similar scene played out: my family, silenced hospital room, and me lying my oldest daughter\u2019s body down in preparation for the mortician. <\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, God?\u201d <\/em><\/p>\n

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Loss pummeled the first three decades of my life and here it was again. The specifics have been omitted so as not to get bogged down in a sad story and miss the point of all that happened.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know how to reconcile these events with how I believed a Christian\u2019s life should look. My mother had been faithful all my life. Literally.<\/p>\n

She accepted Jesus Christ as Savior in our living room while I toddled at her feet. Mom modeled righteousness before us, but bad things kept happening, and good things were continuously taken away.<\/p>\n

A delightful old deacon from my childhood church always prayed, \u201cLord, protect us from all hurt, harm, and danger, and we will be careful to give Your name all the glory and honor it deserves.\u201d<\/p>\n

In my mind, this suggested a simple equation.<\/p>\n

Giving God praise + righteous living = no pain, loss, or suffering<\/strong><\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t help wondering what I was doing to deserve so much hurt, harm, and danger.<\/p>\n

Then Thursday, April 12, 2007 came and interrupted my faulty thought pattern.<\/p>\n

I stepped out of the hospital\u2019s entranceway away from one of the most painful moments of my life and met the brightest, sunny blue sky I had ever seen. It was a Psalm 19:1 moment.<\/p>\n

The heavens declared the glory of God; it gleamed all around me. This is going to sound a little strange, but I intuitively knew God was going to use my pain for His glory, and for the first time, I was okay with that.<\/p>\n

How God prepared my pain for His glory<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Before my loss could help anyone else, it first had to achieve what it was sent to accomplish in me<\/em>.<\/p>\n

I needed to learn how to voice my pain to God\u2014without reservation, and without fearing He would no longer love me if I told Him how I truly felt about the great losses in my life.<\/p>\n

Tears filled the corners of my eyes countless times, and as soon as the person with me saw the threat of a tear spillage, they pulled me into their embrace and passionately whispered, \u201cDon\u2019t cry!\u201d<\/p>\n

But I needed<\/em> to cry. More than that, I needed the freedom to tell God how unfair it felt for everyone else\u2019s children to live and thrive while mine slowly died in my arms.<\/p>\n

I needed someone bold enough to come alongside and say, \u201cI\u2019ve been where you are. Your tears and\/or expressions of disappointment don\u2019t diminish your relationship with God. Speak to God (and listen to Him) until your peace is restored. He\u2019s listening! He will not abandon you.\u201d<\/p>\n

And I needed people to say that with conviction, power, and a compassion so compelling that it pulled my anguished words to the surface.<\/p>\n

My loss: everyone\u2019s gain<\/strong><\/h3>\n

I can\u2019t prove it, but it seems some of us are afraid to let our anguish loose, fearing it will unfurl to no return. That is simply not true\u2014if we choose to direct the unfurling to the One who knows what to do with it.<\/p>\n

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See also  What if My Calling\u00a0Causes My Kids Pain?<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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God created us to be in intimate relationship with Him, including revealing our innermost hurts. Even if that means asking Him why He allows loss to be a part of our stories. The Christian leaders around me didn\u2019t encourage me to do that.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t misunderstand, there were many attempts to comfort, but no one encouraged me to tell God how these losses felt.<\/p>\n

Loss itself did that for me, transforming me into the kind of person I needed all those years ago. Or, maybe I should say, I am becoming that person.<\/p>\n

God uses each new loss to make me keenly aware of the need to express my grief, developing a trust so solid that I can tell Him the ugliest of truths.<\/p>\n

Ironically, I\u2019d just touched the surface of women\u2019s ministry shortly before Mya\u2019s birth, questioning myself every step of the way. \u201cWhat do you have to offer these women?\u201d<\/p>\n

Not knowing what I inwardly touted as my resume of loss was God\u2019s training ground.<\/p>\n

What I held as pitiful or shameful, He planned to use:<\/p>\n