I have been in a season of lamenting. I’ve been bombarded with my health failing me again and again and wrecked with confusion and frustration, constantly crying out to the Lord, “Oh God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46)

My brittle health has been something I have grown to accept as a part of my life and story. While I am frequently frustrated by the day to day battles of a crippled body, my perspective is generally overshadowed by an understanding and appreciation for the ways God uses this battle for the glorification of His kingdom. 

Over the past few months, I was met with not a bump in the road, but what felt like an avalanche overtaking me when I found out that my shunt of just three years had failed again. Shunt failure during this season of my life didn’t just mean another brain surgery and long recovery, but once again, putting my educational future in jeopardy. Instead of being able to fully focus on my physical recovery, I found myself overwhelmed with fears of the near and distant future when it came to my schooling and career. 

We’re reminded in scripture that God does not inflict suffering on His children, but instead uses it as a pruning process (Lamentations 3:33). While I knew this in my mind, I could not convert that understanding into trust and surrender to the Lord in my heart. Instead, I found myself questioning God’s goodness, leaning into my own strength for security and control, which as we are warned only leads to further heartbreak and devastation. 

I oftentimes look at those around me and feel jealous of their outward lack of suffering. I envy their bodies that give them strength to run and not grow weary and look back at mine with distaste and anger. I feel confused why I have been dealt this hand when I truly believe I am following and pursuing Jesus fully each and every day.

As I endured yet another surgery and entered the stage of rehabilitation and recovery, I found myself utterly consumed by anxiety. For the past several months, I was riddled with depression. At times, I cried out to the Lord wishing He would take me home. I could not begin to understand how my suffering was warranted, productive, or even going to glorify His kingdom when this cycle of suffering seems so consistent. 

As I look back on this year, I recognize how little I surrendering to God. I was relying on my own strength, my own understanding, and it was leading me to a place of complete mental, emotional, and spiritual turmoil. It is not my place to understand or even begin to comprehend why God allows what He does to certain people. Why do I struggle so deeply maintaining my health when I work so diligently to treat my body as temple, when I have such a deep desire to use this body for His glory? 

As I often do, I decided to go back to school about one week after my brain surgery. I went in full force because of this need to control the outcome. I wanted to put all of my energy into getting caught up because I wanted to stay on track. I didn’t want to take four semesters to finish my program. I wanted things done my way, in my timeline. However, in my attempt to make things happen on my terms, I was met with yet another physical hurdle. My memory and brain fog plummeted. One evening, I was speaking with my husband, Jordan, and he brought up something that we had talked about that morning. During this conversation, I realized that I had no recollection of what we spoke about or did that morning at all. It was as if my mind completely shut down which petrified me. This was a sign to me that I needed to take a step back; that I had not allowed my brain the time it needed to heal because of my desperate need for control.

With this, I decided to take a step back from school. This decision was painful because it forced me to relinquish the control I thought I had. With the encouragement and support of those around me, I decided to spend the next week and a half focusing on rest. For me, rest looked like focusing on the physical aspect, but more importantly, prioritizing decreasing my anxiety levels and reconnecting with the Lord.

All of this: my shunt failure, my memory challenges, and rocky recovery were ways the Lord knew that I would respond to. I am so focused on the future, so focused on my control of my life, that it takes the Lord allowing my body and mind to fail for me to realize that I need to surrender. I want to be clear that I do not believe God inflicts suffering especially as a form of punishment for our sin. Our suffering is a direct result of the fall which led to sin and brokenness entering the world. While original sin is the cause of suffering, I do not believe that how much or little we sin impacts the amount or severity of suffering we experience. However, I do believe God uses the suffering we experience for the good of those who love Him. 

While I was consistent with my quiet time, reading God’s word, praying to Him, and outwardly living a life that was “pleasing” to Him, I was not living in total surrender. I was relying on myself and my own strength, relinquishing control from God in order to write my future as I saw fit. This turning from Him left me in a place of mental distress. I believe God is using this suffering, my shunt failure, my memory issues and severe brain fog, as a shepherd would guide his herd, to come back to Him, to surrender my heart, my future, my cares and worries on Him. 

At this point in the semester, I have missed nearly 8 weeks of a 16 week program. I cannot say with confidence that the future does not scare me because there are moments where I fear the upward battle of getting caught up again. However, those 8 weeks of suffering, God used for pruning. What the enemy meant for evil, God is using for good (Genesis 50:20). 

The Lord knows my heart better than anyone. He knows my desire for control, but even more so, He knows my need for dependence on Him. He knows that when I am surrendered to not my will, but His, the circumstances of this world no longer define my joy and my peace. Not only is He the Prince of Peace but He is the Son of Suffering. He is the one who I can run to receive peace that surpasses all understanding (Phillipians 4:7). He is the one who I can sit with in the suffering because He is acquainted with our grief (Isaiah 53:3).

While this season of life has been grueling and agonizing, I am rejoicing in His deliverance. God is constantly after my heart. He is relentlessly pursing me even when I am failing to reciprocate. He uses all things, even those we cannot begin to understand, for our good. 

When I went back for my surgery, I was absolutely terrified. I had convinced myself that the worst case scenario would be my reality. When the scrub nurse saw the fear in my eyes, she asked if I wanted any music to be played. I asked her to play Maverick City and the song, "Firm Foundation" filled the room as I drifted off. What I found out later was that the surgical team left it on during my entire surgery. I have no idea the hearts of those who operated on me that day. I don't know if they knew Jesus, but what I do know, is that God used my suffering to give them over two hours of exposure to the Gospel through song. My fear, my anxiety, my devastating circumstance was used to share the peace of God with others when I wasn't even conscious. How beautiful is that in my weakest, most vulnerable moment, the Lord used me as a vessel?

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