Whispers in the Night

I’m awake in the middle of the night.

For hours, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was racing a million miles a minute, so eventually I gave up trying, came downstairs, cleaned up a little, and let my mind breathe.

Earlier that day, I had borrowed a book from the library called What to Do When You Don’t Know What to Do.

If that gives you any insight into my life right now… well, there you go.

I also borrowed a book on Hebrews, which turned out to be more of a study guide.

So in the quiet of the night, I started working through it.

And once again, I found myself in awe of the way God chooses to speak.

For me, so often, it really is a whisper.

And lately, I think He has to catch me in the middle of the night because my days are so full that I struggle to hear Him.

The study was talking about hurt and pain.

And I have some very real hurts right now.

The people around me do too.

Some pains may look bigger than others from the outside, but that does not make the smaller ones less real to the person carrying them.

Pain is pain.

And there was a question in the study that stopped me:

In what ways does God equip us to reach out to others with compassion?

I know part of the answer.

I know hardship can soften us.

I know suffering can teach us empathy.

I know that when we have walked through something painful, we are often better able to recognize the pain in someone else.

But then came another question:

How should Christians respond to pain when it comes?

And that one is harder.

I know we are supposed to give it to Jesus.

But the pain still hurts.

I know we are supposed to look beyond ourselves and find ways to bless others.

But sometimes the hurt is so loud.

Sometimes the hurt is so loud.

Sometimes it consumes our thoughts.

Sometimes it follows us into the kitchen, into the car, into conversations, into work, into parenting, into marriage, into every ordinary responsibility that still has to be carried whether our hearts are hurting or not.

And I found myself wondering:

How do you push pain aside when it will not be pushed?

How do you deny the flesh when your emotions are screaming?

How do you keep moving when life keeps demanding things from you and you feel like there is nothing left to give?

And then came the whisper.

If pain is one of the things God uses to grow compassion in us…

maybe it is okay to pull inward for a little while.

Maybe it is okay to rest.

Maybe we are not meant to immediately turn every wound into ministry.

Maybe sometimes we are simply supposed to receive the rest He promises.

To be still.

To let Him tend to us.

To let Him remind us that we do not have to hold everything together.

And then another thought came.

In the middle of pain, I do not always respond well.

Sometimes I say things I wish I had not said.

Sometimes I do things I wish I had not done.

Sometimes I take offense when I wish I had extended grace.

And when I am the one hurting, I do not want those moments held against me forever.

So how could I refuse that same grace to someone else?

Maybe this is part of why judgment is so dangerous.

We rarely know the full weight another person is carrying.

We see the words.

We see the reaction.

We see the behavior.

But we may not see the wound underneath it.

That does not mean hurtful things do not matter.

It does not mean there are never consequences.

But it does mean compassion should matter too.

And forgiveness.

And humility.

Because we are not the only ones hurting.

We are all capable of becoming messy in pain.

Even after we have been rescued by our Savior, we can still wander.

We can still get lost in fear, anger, grief, pride, disappointment, and exhaustion.

And still, He is our Shepherd.

He keeps bringing us back.

That is what I am grateful for tonight.

Not that the pain disappeared.

It didn’t.

Not that every question was answered.

It wasn’t.

Not that the pain disappeared. It didn’t. But He met me in the quiet.

He whispered to my heart.

He reminded me that rest is not failure.

That compassion is born in places we would never choose.

That forgiveness matters.

That grace matters.

And that even in the middle of hurt, we are never alone.

Even in the middle of hurt, we are never alone.

He will never leave us.

He will never forsake us.

And somehow, after all of that…

I think I can probably sleep now. 😴