At some point, it must have hit you. I know that it hit me.
It starts with a realization of your helplessness, followed by feelings of worthlessness.
And then, the painful question. An unsettling, disturbing question which seems to come from nowhere.
It puts a damper on any joy you try to get out of this world. Any dreams or plans for the future seem permeated by it.
It challenges your identity, and your security—the very ground you stand upon.
You try to ignore it, or dismiss it. You shake it off, or chase it away. But it doesn’t go away.
You try to pretend that you really didn’t hear it. But you know that you did. Because the pain is much too real.
Like a bell, ringing over and over within your soul—it calls, it nags—it demands an answer.
You are compelled to find the answer.
“What is this life of mine—and why am I even living?”
Trouble can do that. Your trouble has brought you here, to this place and time. And to this question.
Yes, trouble can do that. It has been the same for every pained and searching soul who longs for real answers.
The question sets us apart from the mainstream of society, who go blindly on their own way—unable or unwilling to face such a question. They have been confronted as well—but choose to ignore it.
They dismiss it, and snuff it out—like the butt of a smoldering cigarette. Another opportunity may or may not present itself. Only God knows.
Ignoring the voice within soon leads to self-imposed ignorance. And all things seem to steadily move off course from there.
But we—the troubled, the hurting—have faced the question. The ringing bell calls us to come forward. We not only hear, but act upon it, and a conversation with God begins.
God troubles the waters of our souls, and we are ready to believe. To respond. To open up.
Christians have all been there—each one of us, on our own particular road to salvation. Searching and finding. Knocking until that door was opened. We fell upon that Rock of Offense, until our vessel was broken—never to be the same again.
And now, where the initial struggle has ended, the glory begins. The Potter, who first formed the clay of our being, reforms us into a new vessel—a vessel of His likeness, that we might forever be like Him.
But salvation doesn’t erase the question. In fact, knowing Jesus gives the question an even greater sense of urgency.
Trouble and pain have great purpose. They can be the catalyst which moves you into a new direction.
And they create a choice you must make. You can curse at the pain, or you can learn from the pain. You can blame it on something or someone, or you can accept it—or even embrace it.
You can embrace it when you realize that the pain and trouble you face is not the enemy. The enemy of your soul is the enemy.
Think about it. If you had some physical pain, you might be troubled by such pain. No doubt, it bothers you. It causes questions, or anxiety—even fears. But ultimately, you realize that the pain you are having is not the real danger. After a while, you go to the doctor to find the problem.
So, pain is only a signal of an actual problem. It prompts you to act. It motivates, and moves you—even pushes you—into a new direction.
Pain can be like a friend—a friend that won’t be ignored—warning you of danger, and calling you to action.
And whether it’s the pain in the physical body, or the pain of a troubled life, pain can be a gift from God.
But wait—would God really do that? Would he purposely bring you trouble? Would He purposely expose you to pain, anguish and fear?
Well, not exactly. After all, God is Love. He cares deeply and passionately about your life, from its beginning to its end. And He won’t give up on anyone who is trying to understand what life is really about.
But much too often, we don’t understand God’s kind of love. Most of us have a skewed idea of love—thinking that love is giving someone what they want. But God’s love is so much more—so much higher and deeper than our own self-serving desires.
Some may argue that it’s easy for God to love from a throne, in some high and heavenly place. It’s pretty easy to love when you are far distanced from all of the trouble and pain.
But God knows pain. He knows it personally. And He understands it, like no human being can understand it.
He allowed Himself to be brought down from His heavenly place—His rightful place—and was sent as a humble baby, to live among His humble creation. He endured the unbelief and rejection of many. He was beaten nearly to death, and finally allowed men’s hatred to nail Him to a cruel cross.
His physical pain and suffering were unfathomable. But the pain of His own creation—rejecting and rebelling, despising the Truth He brought, ridiculing Him as if he was some lying forgery—this must have been the greatest pain of all.
“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!” (Matthew 23:37)
God really is Love. He isn’t out to get you. He isn’t punishing you. He has already taken your punishment upon His own sacrificial cross of suffering.
But, He is God. He knows the end from the beginning. He sees your beginning, and He sees your end. And He knows what you’ll be facing, all the way through. Every stumble. Every pitfall. Every disappointment. Every heartache, trouble and pain you’ll endure. He knows, and hurts with you.
And He is going to use your trouble, your brokenness and pain to His full advantage. He has to, to turn you around—to try you, test you, and turn you into the soldier He is calling you to be.
Imagine fighting a war, wearing your pajamas, from the comfort of your own safe and secure home. It’s silly, isn’t it? No one fights a battle from the comfort of his home. He must go to the battlefield—wearing battle gear, and fully trained in body and mind.
A soldier must be trained and prepared for battle. And there is going to be pain in the process.
I spent some time in the Army as a young man, and let’s just say that I didn’t like basic training very much. I distinctly recall how my life changed, practically the moment I was sworn in.
They took my clothes from me, and gave me a green uniform. They shaved my hair down to a buzz cut.
I was yelled at—belittled, berated and broken down. I was ordered to go places I didn’t want to go, and made to do things I didn’t want to do.
I was shouted out of bed at the crack of dawn, and forced to run three miles, before receiving a tasteless breakfast. And the abuse continued on for weeks. What sane person would think that this was a good thing?
But I was being prepared for war. My easy, self-willed civilian life would never do. I had to be toughened up, trained and shown what a soldier looks like, feels like and acts like.
During those weeks of training, I gained sixteen pounds of pure muscle. I not only looked like a soldier—I felt like one. I thought like one. I realized that I had, in fact, become one. I had a new identity. And though I had not yet been tested in battle, I was battle-ready.
My mind had been successfully transformed from my youthful, carefree mentality, to a battle-ready mentality. It was both painful and effective.
The truth is, spiritually, emotionally and even physically speaking, we are all surrounded by the battle—both within and without. Everyone is called into the battle. Everyone.
But those who are ultimately chosen for battle will be tested, tried and trained up for such struggles.
This will involve painful situations, and troubling circumstances. Harsh conditions will cause us to fear the Trainer, respond to the Instructor, and learn obedience from the Commander of our souls—as He calls us into the battle for our lives.
We might be tempted to ignore the call to battle, and choose to stay in our comfort zone. But if we don’t go to the battle, sooner or later it inevitably comes to us.
What battle are we talking about? The same one Jesus went through:
“If the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated you.
If ye were of the world, the world would love his own: but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you.” (John 15:18-19)
There is conflict which comes to every heart, and every mind—of all who pass upon the shores of this planet earth. In every age of time, all generations are exposed to this war, which has been raging since the dawn of time.
Long before your life was strategically placed here, it crouched in wait—for you. The evil—determining to break you, dismantle you, and destroy you—from the day of your birth.
It plots against the youngest among us, to steal the very birthright placed within us by Almighty God. It comes after us, to crush us—certain that we are no match for its cunning.
It waits behind every dark shadow, to outwit us at every turn. To divert us, and distract us away from any notion of a loving and Holy God.
It stalks us, to snatch away the very words of God—right out of our own hearts—whenever a word might be sown there.
Please, make no mistake—this is not some small fight. This is a battle to the death.
“The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.” (John 10:10)
Our enemy does not play fair. This is Satan falling from heaven, to wreak havoc on planet Earth. This is one third of heaven’s angels, who were caught up in Satan’s rebellion against Almighty God. This is the ultimate arrogance and pride, and hatred toward God’s finest creation—you and me.
“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” (Ephesians 6:12)
Your pain has brought you here—to this arena of realization—to this acute awareness and painful question of who you are, and why you are.
With every trial, the question comes flooding over you. And it trains you to stand, in the midst of your troubling circumstances.
Every failure has caused you to fall upon the Rock—the Rock who breaks you, and every one of us.
He turns you into the broken vessel you must be. It is the painful training for battle.
You are no longer the carefree person you might have been, if you were free from troubles, failures and disappointments. You are becoming the person God intended for you to be.
But you may ask, “Why me, God? Why must I suffer?” Read this carefully:
“For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God.
For it is written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and will bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent.”
“Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men.
For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called:
But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty;
And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are:
That no flesh should glory in his presence.”
(1 Corinthians 1:18-19, 25-29)
Remember—and this is vitally important—the wisdom of this world is foolishness to God. Not just lacking in value, but worthless.
And to us, the wisdom of this world is actually a detriment—it’s less than worthless. It is a danger and a distraction from God’s truth. It opposes God. It is literally on the wrong side of the battle.
As we review the above scripture, let’s think about the following points:
- God has chosen the foolish, to put worldly wisdom to shame.
- God has chosen the weak, to astound the mighty of this world.
- God has chosen the base (common, or cast aside), instead of the self-assured.
- God has chosen the despised (those cast aside, disqualified, or rejected)
- God has chosen the things that are not (the nobodies), to bring to nothing the things that are (the self-important somebodies).
And why? That no flesh should glory in His presence. That no soldier would be confident in his own strength or abilities.
So lets be brutally honest for a moment.
Who does God choose, from out of the multitudes—the person he lovingly calls to Himself?
- Those who have admitted that they are a fool, for following sin instead of God.
- Those who admit their weakness—who admit they are no one of themselves, apart from God’s redeeming identity—Jesus Christ.
- Those who are broken, and brokenhearted. Fearful, failing and falling. With a heart yearning to be free.
- Those who come knowing that they are nothing—apart from the God of everything.
These are the ones who God chooses.
These are the ones who He lovingly and joyfully separates unto Himself. Hearts he can softly and tenderly hold up to His own.
These He embraces—each and every one. Through every troubled time and situation. Through every misgiving and misunderstanding of His never-ending love.
These—those who the world will always reject—are those who He has destined for greatness.
He joyfully and carefully plans out an eternity for each and every “fool” who falls helplessly into his waiting arms.
But what about you? Do you know anyone who might be considered foolish? Or weak, bruised and broken? Commonplace, and cast aside? Lost and alone? Or even despised, and counted as nothing?
Maybe these descriptions fit you. And maybe God is just waiting to hear you admit it.
Jesus said that many are called, but few are chosen.
There’s a famous quote, about how we don’t get to choose our family. But God does. He chooses—and He uses the difficulties of our lives to move us—to choose Him.
It is the greatest honor given to humanity, when one chooses to live for and honor God’s purposes. And to be His faithful servant.
And yet, He calls us His friends—and showers us with attention—to make sure that His friends know Him well.
In Matthew chapter 13, Jesus tells two parables: one which describes a treasure in a field, and another about a pearl of great price. In both parables, the person sold all they had, to obtain the highly valued treasure.
Our Lord, Jesus Christ, is that great and beautiful treasure. And He is certainly that pearl of great price.
So, what must you do?
Sell out.
Sell everything that you are, to receive all that He is.
Does that sound like a painful process? It might be.
But like those troublesome circumstances of your life, it will pass. And like the painful moments, hours and years of this short life, it will soon be over.
“But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” (1 Corinthians 2:9)
Let pain be your friend, while you have it. Let it take you to where you never would have gone without it’s leading—right into the arms of His strength and purpose. Your strength and purpose.
Discover, right there—within the brokenness of your life—who you really are, and all you were meant to be.
His.
Because God’s chosen vessels are His broken vessels.