This Sunday as we read the story of the man who was blind since birth…I realized that I am often in rooms where these theological discussions are happening. The disciples saw this man, as Pastor Jason put it, “a theological case study” — because they tried in their own human thinking to reason…was this man guilty of sin, or did his parents sin? Who or what was responsible for this? I have spent many hours discussing issues just like this, but when it starts to hurt the most is when you become the “case study”…
I have felt like a case study sometimes. Because I struggled with anxiety as someone of faith, I had well-meaning people say things like, “there must be hidden sin in your life.” Or, “look at the generational curses in your family…”
Honestly, I don’t think it hurts to look back and see sin patterns that have evolved in families…I have absolutely done that to help me grow in my walk with Christ.
But in this situation, and in this instance, God had to first show me His tenderness before He exposed anything that needed fixing. There had to be a measure of great love, and even an understanding that this was not my fault…I lived in a broken body, one that was struggling hard with a switch in brain chemistry and hormones.
Yes, there were spiritual elements to my anxiety, but at the end of the day…there was no clear answer of who sinned to cause this. And honestly, that didn’t even match up with my theology of suffering. We see blameless people like Job throughout scripture who faced suffering simply to show the glory of God…similar to this blind man.
I love Jesus’ statement, because it really gives us the only “why” we need if we find ourselves in the middle of great suffering:
“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, NIV)
When you are suffering, it seems as though God has forgotten you. It seems that there is no point. It seems as though His favor is resting on everyone else…and He left you behind. But in this statement by Jesus, we see that the purpose of God is to transform the pain into glory.
It is consistent with His character to do this. His glory WILL be revealed through every tear shed, every panic attack, every moment of deep depression. There is glory after the storm passes, when the still-small voice reaches through.
Sometimes I wonder what I would say if I could go back and talk to myself in those dark moments. What would I tell that young mom who was really struggling? What would you go back and say to your previous self as you walked through trials?
I think I would lead with, “this is not your fault. And this is not God’s fault. He loves you too much to leave you here. But even here, you will experience His glory. Look for that glory, OK?”
It’s not what I would’ve wanted to hear. I think what we want most in those moments is relief! But when the relief doesn’t come, what are we left with? A real and raw relationship where we are forced to cling to the hem of His robe. It’s funny because I hear this sentiment echoed with every single person I’ve talked to who has walked through immense suffering:
I wouldn’t change a thing…because it drew me closer to Christ.
That closeness with Him is truly priceless. We can’t manufacture that or earn it, we have to live it — through blood, sweat and tears. I do enjoy the sweet relationship that comes from that “hard fought hallelujah” with God. It is beyond what we can even describe, right? I hope that as you face your own trials and hardships this week, you’ll find His glory, even there.
I have felt like a case study sometimes. Because I struggled with anxiety as someone of faith, I had well-meaning people say things like, “there must be hidden sin in your life.” Or, “look at the generational curses in your family…”
Honestly, I don’t think it hurts to look back and see sin patterns that have evolved in families…I have absolutely done that to help me grow in my walk with Christ.
But in this situation, and in this instance, God had to first show me His tenderness before He exposed anything that needed fixing. There had to be a measure of great love, and even an understanding that this was not my fault…I lived in a broken body, one that was struggling hard with a switch in brain chemistry and hormones.
Yes, there were spiritual elements to my anxiety, but at the end of the day…there was no clear answer of who sinned to cause this. And honestly, that didn’t even match up with my theology of suffering. We see blameless people like Job throughout scripture who faced suffering simply to show the glory of God…similar to this blind man.
I love Jesus’ statement, because it really gives us the only “why” we need if we find ourselves in the middle of great suffering:
“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, NIV)
When you are suffering, it seems as though God has forgotten you. It seems that there is no point. It seems as though His favor is resting on everyone else…and He left you behind. But in this statement by Jesus, we see that the purpose of God is to transform the pain into glory.
It is consistent with His character to do this. His glory WILL be revealed through every tear shed, every panic attack, every moment of deep depression. There is glory after the storm passes, when the still-small voice reaches through.
Sometimes I wonder what I would say if I could go back and talk to myself in those dark moments. What would I tell that young mom who was really struggling? What would you go back and say to your previous self as you walked through trials?
I think I would lead with, “this is not your fault. And this is not God’s fault. He loves you too much to leave you here. But even here, you will experience His glory. Look for that glory, OK?”
It’s not what I would’ve wanted to hear. I think what we want most in those moments is relief! But when the relief doesn’t come, what are we left with? A real and raw relationship where we are forced to cling to the hem of His robe. It’s funny because I hear this sentiment echoed with every single person I’ve talked to who has walked through immense suffering:
I wouldn’t change a thing…because it drew me closer to Christ.
That closeness with Him is truly priceless. We can’t manufacture that or earn it, we have to live it — through blood, sweat and tears. I do enjoy the sweet relationship that comes from that “hard fought hallelujah” with God. It is beyond what we can even describe, right? I hope that as you face your own trials and hardships this week, you’ll find His glory, even there.
Erika Pizzo
Erika is an author of various books on the topics of faith, mental health, and victory in Christ. Erika lives with her husband, daughter, son, and their fluffy poodle in sunny Southern California. Her two favorite things are a visit to the beach and a chai latte in hand.