Seeing hope through the pain.
When I was in middle school, I took sermon notes religiously. I did it mostly because I thought it would make me a better Christian. Now I just listen to the stories and write down the occasional thought that I really want to remember. I get a lot more out of sermons these days.
Anyway, about 8 years ago I was going through my middle school sermon notes, and I found a quote that I'd written down. I don't know where I got it or who said it, but it is a quote that has shaped my life. It said:
"Joy is looking at life from somewhere other than today's pains."
I typed it up on the computer and hung it on the side of my dresser. It hung there throughout my time in high school, and I believe it's still there, though now the dresser is in the laundry room at my parents house.
I've been thinking about that quote during the past few weeks. It's been six months since Vinnie left us, and during that six months, I've walked through a deep and long valley. In the valley I've encountered pain, heartache, anger, bitterness, hopelessness and a good deal of apathy. Joy, however, comes from outside the valley.
I used to think that "somewhere other than today's pains" meant that I should just think about times when I was happy, and let that make me happy now. Turns out that just makes me feel worse, because I realize how messed up my life is now compared to when I was doing good! No, "somewhere other than today's pains" means somewhere outside of the pain, but also outside of the happiness. It is a place outside of human experience, a place all of us know, but where none of us have yet been.
It is about informing my pain with the knowledge of my Creator. It is about thinking theocentrically about heartache. It is letting heaven absorb my anger. It is about holding on to hope, true biblical hope, the kind that doesn't disappoint, as a lifeline.
Informed experience is the joy of existence. God's sovereignty abounds in the valley, though my mind is incapable of understanding his presence.
So I trust and hope through the pain.
When I was in middle school, I took sermon notes religiously. I did it mostly because I thought it would make me a better Christian. Now I just listen to the stories and write down the occasional thought that I really want to remember. I get a lot more out of sermons these days.
Anyway, about 8 years ago I was going through my middle school sermon notes, and I found a quote that I'd written down. I don't know where I got it or who said it, but it is a quote that has shaped my life. It said:
"Joy is looking at life from somewhere other than today's pains."
I typed it up on the computer and hung it on the side of my dresser. It hung there throughout my time in high school, and I believe it's still there, though now the dresser is in the laundry room at my parents house.
I've been thinking about that quote during the past few weeks. It's been six months since Vinnie left us, and during that six months, I've walked through a deep and long valley. In the valley I've encountered pain, heartache, anger, bitterness, hopelessness and a good deal of apathy. Joy, however, comes from outside the valley.
I used to think that "somewhere other than today's pains" meant that I should just think about times when I was happy, and let that make me happy now. Turns out that just makes me feel worse, because I realize how messed up my life is now compared to when I was doing good! No, "somewhere other than today's pains" means somewhere outside of the pain, but also outside of the happiness. It is a place outside of human experience, a place all of us know, but where none of us have yet been.
It is about informing my pain with the knowledge of my Creator. It is about thinking theocentrically about heartache. It is letting heaven absorb my anger. It is about holding on to hope, true biblical hope, the kind that doesn't disappoint, as a lifeline.
Informed experience is the joy of existence. God's sovereignty abounds in the valley, though my mind is incapable of understanding his presence.
So I trust and hope through the pain.
posted by Joe P. @ 9:52 AM
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