No More Sting

I’ve been doing some reflecting on my life this week. Our pastor is in a series on worship, and he talked about the significance of David worshiping God in the desert—when circumstances weren't good. His joy came after his choice to worship in the desert, not before, and his faith was strengthened by looking back and remembering what God had already done. It wasn't receiving a new miracle that built his faith, but rather thanking God for what He had already done.

Our church was encouraged at the close of the message to make a list this week, remembering all the times God has been faithful. So on Monday, I decided to do just that, starting from childhood and chronologically working my way to the present. As I did, I stumbled upon a memory.

One of the first times Matt and I significantly heard God give us a clear "no" was when the door closed for us to attend Bible college. We applied, were both accepted, and had even received a few scholarships. However, we weren't able to secure the student loans we needed to cover the rest of our tuition. This reality hit us on the very day we finished our first Daniel Fast with some friends from church. The timing felt significant, as if it were straight from God. Even though it was disappointing in the moment, I now know it was a God-moment in my story, so I wrote it down as I continued my list.

But before I get to the good part, let me give some context.

What happened next? Matt and I decided to finish community college in our hometown, get married a little earlier than we had originally planned (which I was very happy about), and pursue our ministry credentials through our state's district office. We attended monthly classes while stepping into our very first part-time role as children's pastors at the church where I grew up.

It turned out wonderfully. I loved it—no problems at all—until all my peers started graduating with their degrees.

For a long time, many of them seemed so far ahead of us in their careers, at least from my perspective. They also seemed to have built deep friendships during their years in college. I prayed about it and surrendered those feelings to Jesus. Eventually, they would pass, and all would be well.

Comparison truly is the thief of joy, and I learned that lesson well.

Then one day, years later, while attending General Council (a large gathering of AG ministers from across the country), we followed our pastors to their alumni events since we were all traveling together. I walked into the room and was surprised when feelings of disappointment—and an almost tangible sting—hit me like a wave.

I kept my composure, but it definitely made me curious. Why was I still feeling this way?

I did more emotional work and took it to Jesus again. Then a few more years passed.

One day, nine years after we weren't able to attend Bible college, Matt was appointed Youth and Kids Director for the state of Mississippi. Shortly afterward, while attending our first gathering with the directors from each state and getting to know their stories, I realized that a large majority of them had attended an AG Bible college.

Many of the students we would have met and become friends with in 2010 were the very same people we still got to meet and become friends with almost ten years later.

Here's what's so significant: what took years of emotional processing for me was suddenly resolved in a single moment as that realization hit me. The disappointment completely lost its power, and its sting was immediately exchanged for great joy as I realized what an incredible, divine plot twist this was for us.

We were always exactly where we needed to be.

As I built this list of God-moments and reflected on all these things, it hit me that there are still a few disappointments in my life that haven't quite lost their sting. Because they remain painful to think about, I sometimes carry a subconscious guilt, as if I haven't prayed hard enough or fully surrendered them to God.

But maybe that isn't the case at all.

Maybe I'm not the one who takes the sting away. Maybe I'm trying to fill a role that belongs only to Jesus—the One who can change everything in a single moment.

Reflecting on this truth from my past greatly encouraged me. While I am responsible for trusting God in the pain, feeling the pain doesn't mean I'm not healing or that God isn't working in my story.

When those feelings rise up, I can surrender them once more and remind myself, by looking back, that perhaps the story simply isn't over yet.

We see this truth applied to the greatest sting on earth—death. What looked like a tremendous loss became the greatest victory of all time. Jesus had to die so that He could rise from the grave. And while death still carries a sting in our fallen world, we have a promise that one day it will lose its sting too:

Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled: “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” 1 Corinthians 15:54-55 NLT

God, today I pray for my friends who are in the middle of a storyline and still feeling the sting of what they've experienced. You are the God who can change everything in a moment. Help us trust Your timing, surrendering our disappointments to You as we trust You to do what only You can do in our stories. Amen.