The other night I suffered greatly.
The pain that I felt was like nothing I have ever felt before. I fell under it and I lost. I prayed for death and in my pain I began to disbelieve that God was there. I had nearly lost all faith that our Good God would let one of His very own sons suffer such pain and agony. I went insane, and the only reason I did not take a hammer to my head and take my own life was the very fact that I couldn’t lift my arms.
And in my weakness, I became even more selfish. I asked my Father to take me home. I didn’t care about what I would leave behind, I didn’t care about the feelings of anyone else, all I wanted was the pain to go away. I asked God what the purpose of all this was. I asked God how this indeed Glorified Him. I asked God ‘why’. And, I felt so apostate, ah God, that even made it burn all the more.
The medicine they gave me only drew me closer to the edge of insanity. I could no longer breathe without concious effort, and my body yearned and pined for freedom within unknown confines and twisted and turned in frustration, longing to escape the grasp of hell’s torment within my flesh.
I kept moaning, ‘The pain. The pain. So much pain. So much pain…’
I heard that the blood of my arm gushed out everywhere, all over the nurse, as she attempted to insert an IV into my left arm. I think I heard her curse under her breath as my precious fluid of life spilt upon her and the floor, and everything nearby.
I felt nodes and cathodes being placed all over my body, to take my EKG levels or whatever they are called. I felt medicine being inserted into my arms intravenously.
I had a tube stuck down my penis to extract urine from my bladder. She mentioned blankly that it wouldn’t hurt. I thought to myself two things: First, “How the $#^%! would she know, she’s a damn woman.” and second, “Shyooooot. I’m in no position to argue anyways.” And, by God, it hurt, and as that tube went farther and farther down and pierced my bladder, I cried silently to God a small, sarcastic ‘thanks,’ that no longer was all the pain concentrated in my brain, but now, at least, I had a distraction somewhere else…
And my friend silently kept watch. Vigilant, telling me to shut up and not waste energy. What a nice guy. He warmed my hand once or twice. I was corpse-cold.
Ah, God, I blasphemed you that night! I wanted death and You did not hear my cries! God, my God! I had no noble interest in any enterprise other than that of sure respite from hell’s fire inside my head. I cried to You Father, and all the Bible verses I knew flew through my head. I thought about Job, and his pain and suffering. I cried because I couldn’t praise Your Name or rejoice during suffering. I thought “Shall I accept good from God, and not trouble?” And I grew more upset because I knew that to be true, but, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to. The pain was too great.
She came. Ah Glory be. And like an angel she walked in and held my hand. Later, I would tell her all, amidst red-hot tears and snot-filled whimpers, and she would know of my fear.
God, it is things like this Lord, that bring men to their knees. And, You, Father, forced me upon mine, as I collapsed in that ER room, my mind vacant and body still and void of feelings and near-all discernment.
And, this, Lord God, is how You humble men like myself. Men of pride, of selfishness, of self-righteousness. Men who pray for wisdom but secretly believe they are wise. Men who pray for strength but believe that they have enough on their own. Men who pray for righteousness but betray themselves to purchase the lie that they have already earned enough. Men who pray that You walk with them, that You are indeed with them, when they in fact turn their back and believe that they don’t need You.
God, You move in power. And when You beckon obedience of me, I do not come willingly. And, Father, You, with Divine Mercy, mercilessly force me to humbly obey, and to get on my knees and honor that which is deserving of honor and praise and worship, and my all, both body and mind, and especially, heart.
“May the Lamb that was slain recieve the reward of His suffering!”
God, my God, you make those who believe more like Christ. How naiive and sad that we believe it happens without physical, wordly pain. When You make us like Christ, You make us like Christ in ALL things. You have us experience that which Christ died for! That which He bore for me! Father, my Father! God, my God! How dare I doubt You?
Thanks be to God, through our Lord Jesus Christ, who lets me live another day in His Creation. And Blessed be His Name, above all, who grants me the opportunity to share in His sufferings, like Paul, like all the Disciples.
And, through this discipline, I knew that I was His son.
“Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons.” Hebrews 12:7
Thank You Father, for letting me know, once again, that I am Your son, that I am not forgotten, and that You have much for me to do, much for me to learn, and many ways still left over to let myself simply be a vehicle where You can give Yourself Glory through me.
Praise be to God, and God alone.
Please pray that God will restore me.