It was a Friday night when the half moon was a freakishly strange auburn. It was set against a sky of a zillion twinkly lights. As I looked on, it seemed lonely as it was separated from the rest as if to predict a bad omen.
Luckily, I don’t believe in omens. But I do believe in bad-news phone calls, or ‘let’s sit and talk’ conversations.
Bad news runs in some families like chicken pox among children, or the flu on a wintry day. At times I wish it were postponed by a telegram delivered by the pony express; putting off the pain till the next day. Or the next day after that.
Although terrible news came the other day, my aching heart remembered my friend who is processing bad news as well.
A year ago I penned a snippet of her story.
She lost her father as a child, then lost her mom soon after she got married. Oh, the dreadful ringing of the phone.
As bad news started pouring in, it seemed as though there were additional buckets that just kept the storm going.
Over a three year period, three out of six siblings were gone.
Holding ‘paws’ with her cat, Fusu, she balls up in pain trying to recover, “Lord, let my heart leap again.” Yet, more is to come.
Abandoned by her husband. Kicked out unjustly from the country she learned to call her own. Jobless. Family-less … Bad news rings once again, caring less that she has already bore more pain than any person should have to experience … now, another sister just breathed her last unexpectedly.
Bad news is like one thousand buckets of ice-cold water that takes your breath away and leaves you numb.
Zapped of strength, feeling cried out. You sit and wonder …
How do I master pain with godliness avoiding Naomi’s bitterness?
How do I endure the next trial lined-up with James’ joy?
How do I wait well when Jesus delays to show up as he did when Lazarus died?
How do I run to the Father when I wonder why his sons and daughters hurt more than those not following him?
Joni Earickson Tada encourages us beautifully “Affliction is a bruising of a blessing; but it is a blessing from the hand of God. It is how God meets us in our suffering.” (Intro to The Scars That Have Shaped Me, by Vanneetha Rendall Risner)
As we fumble through bad news, let’s refuse to give in to the Devil’s lies: God loves me less, I am forgotten, and I have been punished once again. ” ‘Neither this man nor his parents sinned,’ said Jesus, ‘but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.’ ” John 9:3
Talk to Jesus. He can handle our unfiltered laments and our raw emotions. David does not shy away in being authentic in his pain, “Listen to my prayer, O God, do not ignore my plea; hear me and answer me. My thoughts trouble me and I am distraught. ” Psalm 55:1-2
We live in a world that wounds, but let’s trust that our Father will heal what sin has scarred. God’s in the business of restoring what Satan destroys. Trust that Christ will bring about beauty to our suffering.
When bad news rings, look up to sustain sanity, focusing on the truth we’re sure of in the days of calm:
Father is good.
Father is loving.
Father is faithful.
Father will finish the beautiful work he started in me. I am his handiwork.
… I know that full well.
Meditate & Memorize: I Peter 5:10
And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.