A purpose for our pain
It hurts.
There’s no getting around it. Any time your body is cut open for any reason, there will be pain.
I had surgery on Tuesday morning. As procedures go, it was relatively minor compared to the recent issues I’ve seen close friends and family members encounter.
But my body was cut open. So there is pain.
As I write, I’m feeling a little loopy and hurting a bit, but I’m just grateful to be on the “other side.”
By the “other side,” I mean the pain is now going down hill. After more than a year of dealing with this injury — and it became excruciating at times — I know the pain I’m now feeling has a purpose. Better days are ahead.
Stitched up once for all.
I’m being made new.
But healing is a process that takes time.
The Pain After
I’ve had plenty of time to ponder over the past couple of days, and I’ve reached a conclusion: Surgery is a lot like my life has been since entering a relationship with Christ. Maybe you’ll agree.
Maybe you, too, have realized that following Christ is not a magic pill for a pain-free existence. I’ve experienced plenty since that September day in 1995.
Nearly lost our first child.
Witnessed family members deal with severe health issues.
Said goodbye to loved ones.
Been betrayed by “friends.”
Had business ventures fail.
Changed career paths. Twice.
Had plenty of great expectations. Few materialized.
I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything.
Please don’t misunderstand. They hurt plenty. They were very real. But it’s a pain I’ve learned to endure because there’s hope ahead. And I long for the day when it will go away completely and we’ll live in never-ending joy.
No more pain.
No more death.
Every tear will be wiped away.
The Pain Before
The pain we experience prior to surgery delivers a hopeless feeling. Like someone who’s lost and keeps walking in the wrong direction.
I was that guy.
Without intervention, the pain will continue to get worse. Without intervention, death is certain.
All of us will experience pain in this life. And all of us will run to something to dull the pain.
Drinking.
Drugs.
Sex.
Power.
Money.
Performance.
Entertainment.
After exhausting all of those mirages in the desert, we finally drink from a fountain that’s true. The only hope that will last. And we realize we should have gone there first.
I was that guy, too.
Power for Living
For a period of two hours or so while I was unconscious, my life was sustained by a power source much greater than me. Every beat of my heart, every breath I took.
With great humility, I’m reminded it’s ALWAYS that way. Even when I’m not hooked up to hi-tech machinery.
When I woke up in the recovery room, I was told my problem had been fixed. I had been transformed without even knowing it.
Because of COVID restrictions, family members were not allowed in the hospital. Yet I wasn’t alone when I awakened from my medicinal slumber.
I was surrounded by smiling, doting nurses. A community looking to serve others. Just the way God designed his kingdom.
And how cool is this? A former co-worker was my nurse anesthetist, and two of my other nurses were friends from my neighborhood while growing up.
It was a reunion of sorts.
Just like I envision heaven.
No Turning Back
I left the hospital with instructions for how to gain, and maintain, optimum health. Very similar to the guidance for living I receive in the scriptures each morning. Funny how we have no interest in reading it until we’re intimately connected.
As my wife and I were watching a little TV last night, a commercial for Samaritan’s Purse came on the screen. Franklin Graham, whose daddy was perhaps the world’s best-known evangelist, was talking to the camera.
“He has no clue,” I told my wife, “but the reason I am alive in Christ today is because of something he said to me exactly 25 years ago.”
He asked a simple question with eternal consequences.
“If you died tonight, do you know where you would go?”
I didn’t have an answer that day. But I do now.
Tears began to well in my eyes.
“We’ll probably never cross paths here on Earth,” I continued. “But I know we will meet someday. I can’t wait to tap him on the shoulder and say, ‘You don’t know me, but I’m here because of some good news you shared with me a long time ago.’ ”
I can’t even imagine the joy it would bring to have someone say that to me.
It’s been a quarter-century since it happened. The venue where I was called into a new life, the Civic Arena, no longer exists. And our world has changed in ways we could never imagine.
Thank God, so have I.
Have I been tempted to return to my former patterns? You bet. We still live on a crazy planet and all the distractions are very alluring. But when I entertain those thoughts, I’m reminded of a powerful exchange between Jesus and Peter late in John 6. It took place just after some disciples had turned back to their old ways after following Christ for a time.
Jesus asked the Twelve, “Do you want to leave, too?”
Simon Peter replied, “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that You are the Holy One of God.”
The good news: The belief Peter refers to comes with indescribable joy over even the smallest of blessings.
The bad news: It also comes with some extremely sad, difficult days.
Probably a lot like your life now, regardless of which side you’re on.
So here’s the difference: No matter my doubts and fears, no matter my foolishness or failures, no matter my mishaps and missteps, there’s always a friend with me who sticks closer than a brother. He’ll never leave me. Never forsake me. And he’ll always give me the power to walk through another day. One step of faith at a time.
I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
Even a pain-free life.
(Tim Kolodziej is the creator of EnspireU.com and author of this piece. If you would like to receive encouraging/inspiring messages, videos, and motivational stories each morning, text him at (412) 226-4977.)