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Leading in the Midst of Suffering

I’d helped others through trials and struggles, but dealing with my own was a new challenge.

Breathe.

The doctor had just dropped the devastating news: my youngest daughter was not going to live. Only a few hours had passed since I stared in shock while fire destroyed my home with my little girl and her daddy caught inside.

Just breathe.

I struggled to pay attention as the doctor described the details of her death. The lack of oxygen. The brain damage. I tried to focus my thoughts on the simple rise and fall of my own breathing, reminding me that I lived while trying to absorb the news that she no longer did. My sweet girl arrived at heaven’s door, far sooner than I ever imagined, as I tumbled head first into the valley of the shadow of death.

Leading from the Valley

At the time of the fire, I had led in children’s ministry for almost a decade. I witnessed broken marriages and sick kids. I walked beside others who buried loved ones or received devastating diagnoses. I prayed and petitioned for wisdom on behalf of many who lived with uncertainty. Trials and sufferings were not foreign.

But that day in the hospital, I began to journey through my own valley. The wilderness of sorrow and loss became my terrain. What a different place to be, this other side of suffering. The challenge to exist as both journeyer and leader, a complex coexistence, became my reality. I tripped and stumbled while learning to traverse this new tract of land and endure as I continued to lead.

It has not been easy. One day, several months after the fire, whispers of a drowning circled our staff meeting. A little boy’s name surfaced as I struggled to piece the details together. I knew him, this little boy. He and his siblings attended our children’s ministry and just a few days earlier he had crawled his way into the shattered remnants of my soul.

We met at family night for our preschool summer camp. Until that moment, I avoided connecting with other children. My wounds were still too fresh from my daughter’s death. But there was something about this little guy, something that drew me in, broken pieces and all, challenging me to risk the pain of connecting again. We played, we giggled, and a piece of my heart began to heal.

The kids were to learn about heaven that week. My job was to create and present the content but uncertainty assaulted me. Would I be able to teach about heaven knowing my own daughter danced before the King? Would tears flow as I spoke, knowing her eyes gazed upon Christ’s glory but no longer looked into mine? Would my emotions adversely affect those who listened? I felt weak, completely inadequate, without much to offer.

What I did have was my broken heart yearning for God’s compassion and healing. I placed this simple offering before him—hopeful that I would see his goodness, yet fearful that I would somehow mess it up. He says, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). As the week progressed, God’s grace filled my weaknesses, his mercy covered my inadequacies, and his love poured through my efforts.

Little did I know that another precious child from our ministry would die that very week, that his family would need the hope of heaven, and another mom would embark on a journey I had recently begun.

But God knew.

In his perfect timing, he strengthened me and multiplied my meager offering beyond measure. He enabled me to speak truth that another family so desperately needed to hear. Truth that ministered to my own soul, even as I offered it to others.

God’s People Know Suffering

There were other days I wasn’t sure I would survive but I was unwilling to avoid the pain, stuff it, or pretend it really wasn’t that bad. I pressed in and scoured Scripture for stories of people who experienced similar sorrow. If Abraham could trust God while offering his son as a sacrifice, I could trust him with my daughter. If Mary could look upon her bruised and beaten son as he hung on the cross, I could whisper goodbye to a life where my daughter twirled about our living room floor. If Joseph could endure trial after trial and experience God’s presence and blessing in the midst, I could expect God’s presence and blessing to be real for me as well.

Yes, Scripture tells story after story of broken people encountering a faithful God. Trials and sufferings fill its pages, but so does God’s grace and mercy, his love and compassion, his peace and provision. These stories transfused hope to my wounded heart, strengthening me to persevere.

As I began to create space for my sorrow, God’s peace filled my soul. Peace guarded my shattered heart, allowing me room to grieve as I learned to accept my limitations and simply slow down (Philippians 4:7). Peace strengthened my resolve to embrace all of life, not merely the enjoyable parts. Peace breathed new life into my weary bones, allowing me to place one foot in front of the other one more time.

I talked to God about everything. Nothing was off limits. My fears and sadness. My questions and confusion. My hopes and disappointments. My relationships and ministry. But I listened, too. And as I listened, his whispers of love and comfort soothed my battle-scarred soul.

New Life and Hope

The way hasn’t always been clear, but I choose to keep going. I choose to walk with other brokenhearted souls, encouraging them to persevere through the pain, to trust through the trial, and to believe that God reveals himself in our darkest moments. I choose to believe he is faithful and guides my every step. I choose to believe there will be a day when everything will finally make sense, every tear will find purpose, and every lonely moment will see light. On that day, I will stand before the Father with my little girl’s hand finally resting once more within my own.

I began to accept that the life I knew no longer existed. I couldn’t return to the land from where I’d come, but as he continued to mend my broken heart, and my trust in his will and his ways grew, I started to see signs of new life, of new hope, and of a new way to live having endured this journey.

Most people avoid traveling through the valley. There are rocky cliffs of risk and dark forests of loneliness. But there are also refreshing pools of peace and cool breezes of hope that stir a longing for our heavenly home. The valley doesn’t last forever and, as we travel, evidence of God’s presence abounds as long as we’re willing to look. So while there may be others just behind us nipping at our heels, we can press on in confidence, trusting that the Creator of all goes before us, leading every step of the way, as his very breath fills our souls.

“Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Kim Gunderson is a writer, speaker, and ministry leader. She is the author of Breathing in Ashes, a memoir sharing the story of the death of her youngest daughter. She lives outside of Chicago, Illinois, where she has raised four kids and will soon add three more to her heart. Kim blogs at abigumbrella.com and talesfromablender.net.

April14, 2016 at 8:00 AM

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