“Lord, why has this happened? It seems so unfair. I know I shouldn’t say this but who else is there I can turn to?”
“My child, tell me about your troubles. Although you don’t understand my ways, yet you trust me enough to tell me of your feelings. It is because you believe I love you that you question my ways. My Son expressed His agony in Gethsemane and asked that I might deal with Him differently. But it could not be so.”
“But, Lord, the thing I dreaded most has happened. It is so bleak and black — a very taste of Hell itself — just one bitter blow after another.”
“And do you think I don’t suffer with you, my child? It was my Son Who wept at Lazarus’ tomb. It was He Who said I noticed when even a sparrow died. My love and compassion is beyond your imagination. Do you really think I do not suffer in your suffering? I never ask you to endure anything which really is too much for you. But you do need the strength which I offer you.”
“But I feel spiritually dried up, Lord. Prayer is dead. How can I come back to you? I want to do so but each defeat has made it more difficult. How can I experience your strength?”
“You are not really willing to make prayer a priority in your life, my child. You have spent endless hours looking for some emotional turning point out of your failure. But all these experiences have been short-lived because, although I have given them to you in the past, yet I want you now to learn to go on steadily with me. Prayer not only glorifies me, it also is a prescription for your spiritual weakness. It will certainly heal you even if sometimes little seems to be happening. This is one of the lessons I would teach in this darkness, my child.”
“And when I think! Life seemed so kind. It seemed that nothing could go drastically wrong.”
“But, my child, did I ever promise this? Did I ever promise to keep you from trouble and sorrow? Did I not rather promise difficulties? Did I not call you to share in the sufferings of my Son? Have not my children down the ages walked this path of suffering before you?”
© Tony Higton: see conditions for reproduction