Sit With Your Pain

I’m a runner. Not as in the ‘working out to stay fit’ kind of running. I mean the kind who bolts at any sign of potential pain. I’m a tough girl when it comes to anything else in life, and I have the scars to prove it. Giant 10-foot waves have pummeled me; I’ve fallen out of trees, cartwheeled down snowy hills, and had an unsolicited staring contest with a black bear that prompted me to write my eulogy shortly after that. I’m no stranger to fear, but emotional and relational pain is not on my bucket list.

After my break-up, I started going to therapy, and one day my therapist said, “Esther, you know this is going to take time. You’re not going to be able to run from this one. You can’t rush this process. You need to sit with your pain, but you don’t have to sit alone. God wants to sit with you.” I didn’t want to hear that. I wanted her to give me the three steps to expediting the healing process and, I don’t know, maybe some magic essential oils that had psychedelic powers to erase the memory of the last year of my life. But she didn’t. She gave me the hard truth.

When I got home later that day, I went for a walk along the beach and stopped to sit at a lifeguard tower to watch the sunset. I recalled the moments my ex and I shared on that tower just a year prior and the dreams I held in my heart of our future together. Now all that was left was a cold and barren uncertainty. As tears rained from my eyes, I whispered a prayer, “God, I need you. My heart hurts so much. Show me how to trust you.” I opened the Bible I’d brought with me and wrote down a verse in my journal,

“Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.” (Psalm 126:5-6).

I had to be honest with Jesus. I was tired of sowing in tears. It’s been years and years of disappointment after disappointment. The number of tears I’ve shed over broken hearts could fill the entire ocean, yet here I was again, with more tears dropping into my ocean of heartache.“Where’s my song of joy,” I demanded, waiting for God to reply. No answer came, but a whisper of hope breathed through, “I’m doing more than you know.” It was hard to believe Him, but I nodded, bowed my head, and praised Him for what He was doing even when I couldn’t see it, even when all I could feel was pain.

Here’s the revelation I got from that verse: if we’re going to get a harvest of joy, we have to do some sowing of tears. We have to face the pain, be honest with God, allow Him to show us His goodness in the midst of our disappointment, let go of the anger we’ve harbored, and rest in His healing presence as we stay still. It’s tempting to want to run from one relationship to another or block the painful experience out of our minds and move on with our lives, but eventually, we will have to face it. If not now, five years from now. A broken heart will eventually be re-exposed until the true Healer can make us whole again.

Are you a runner too? Have you been busying yourself to avoid the pain haunting you? What might God be saying to you as an invitation to start your healing journey? Perhaps He desires to clear your schedule, go on a walk, spend time with your family, and give your heart a break from trying to be ‘okay.’ If you were sitting on that lifeguard tower with your journal, what honest thoughts might you write down? What might God be saying in response?

This devotional by Fearless.Co is available at Bible.com.