How To See Pain With True Sight
“Mom, look at me!”
I turned my head toward my son and he stared at my face intently.
“Your eye is really red,” he pointed out.
I nodded. “It’s irritated from the sun and dust.” He jumped down and raced off to examine another tractor at the auction.
As soon as I arrived home that night, I pulled out my contacts and rinsed my eyes with solution, trying to shake free the gritty dustiness of the day.
The next morning, my eyes were tired, so I left my glasses on and went to church.
When evening came more believers gathered in our living room. We studied Ezekiel 13. We read through the warnings to the people that their “whitewashed” walls would fall—and they would be exposed. The lies, the false beliefs, the twisted versions of life offered by those who claimed to know God but were speaking words that never came from His mouth—they would all crumble.
Through the passage, God points out that no one can hunt down the souls of His people, splitting them to pieces with false teaching, and keep their own souls alive. Like Galatians 6:7-9, we’re reminded that God will not be mocked. Men will reap what they sow. And in the end, everyone will be forced to face the deepest, truest thing in all the world: there is a God and He is worthy of all our praise and worship and honor.
And with that truth comes another one, perhaps more earth shattering than the last: this God loves and desires to be family with each one of us. The God-Who-Is-Worthy is the God who bled, who broke, and who offered Himself saying, I’ve made you worthy. Turn to me.
It was past midnight before we went to bed that evening, the kitchen still littered with remnants of food and laughter.
When morning arrived, I blinked open my eyes and immediately started moaning. I woke my husband, begging him to look in my eye and see if he could get out whatever was stabbing it. He looked at it carefully, then picked up the phone and called my parents, asking them to come.
When my father arrived, he took one look and said, “Call the eye center and find out when they open.”
Within a few minutes we were on our way, and when the doctor sat back after examining me and said, “It’s serious, but you won’t lose your vision if you do exactly what I tell you,” my husband kind of braced himself against the wall.
After a week of daily visits and lots of medication, the ulcer in my eye was healing, but we’d also learned that I’d been carrying infection for way too long. Because I am meticulously careful with my contacts, I was able to live with the infection unknowingly for a period of time, but somewhere along the way, bad bacteria had overcome the good, and resulted in an open sore in my eye.
Since then I’ve spent a lot of time with my eyes closed, or my vision blurry from medication, and one prayer keeps coming to my lips.
Thank you, God, for the pain.
I wouldn’t have gone in for a reddish eye. I wouldn’t have gone in for an irritated eye. In fact, I wouldn’t have even gone in for manageable pain.
I had a regular eye appointment coming up before too long anyway. I’d have worn my glasses until then and probably permanently damage my eye in the process—except for the excruciating pain.
Except for the pain that doubled me over and left me sobbing against my husband’s chest. Except for the pain that made it impossible for me to open my eyes and look around at my world. Except for the pain that brought all of my focus to this one hurting place in my life.
Because of the pain, we found the infection before it could permanently damage my life.
Thank you, God, for the pain.
Like the Israelites with whitewashed walls, I’m pretty good at keeping things at a “functioning” level in my world. Obviously, I can apparently walk around with infection in my eyes—but I can also walk around with infection in my soul. Lies can be coating my thinking, my relationships, my heart—and I can look pretty good on the outside. And I’m not the only one.
So God gave us a gift.
He gave us pain.
When infertility ripped through my life—God revealed a soul-wound I had been carrying since I was a little girl. Somewhere along the way I picked up a little bit of bad bacteria, a tiny dark spot in my heart, a following of my own spirit…and underneath the pretty whitewash, there was a heart that didn’t believe that God would take care of her.
I believed that I had to do all the right things to take care of myself.
I wanted to be the one doing the saving, then once I was saved, I wanted to offer my strength to God because I really did love Him. I just didn’t trust Him to save me the way I wanted to be saved.
Infertility left me without options. I could not save myself. I could take all the medications, see all the doctors, do all the diet and exercise suggested—and in the end, all I had was pain.
Thank you, God, for the pain.
When it hurt bad enough, I went searching for relief and I found Jesus really was all He claimed to be—and realized I had nothing to offer Him and He had everything to offer me.
My painful circumstances revealed the lies I was believing about God.
It tore down my whitewashed walls.
It called out the falsehoods that were making my foundation wobbly.
I would have permanently damaged my life, except for the pain.
Except for the pain that doubled me over and left me sobbing against my husband’s chest. Except for the pain that made it impossible for me to open my eyes and look around at my world. Except for the pain that brought all of my focus to this one hurting place in my life.
Thank you, Jesus, for the pain.
In turning to Christ with my soul-wound laid bare—I was able to start the process of cleaning out the infection. Getting to the root of the issue. Instead of whitewashed walls and a wobbly foundation, Jesus settled me in deep and strong. My weakness was all I had to offer and it turned out that was all He needed to start building me back up.
He’s trustworthy, friends. The only Savior. The One-Who-Meets-Every-Need.
Through the agony of infertility, I found the truth about who God is.
Thank you, Jesus, for the pain.
Hi Natasha,
What a neat post this was. Oh my goodness!!! I have certainly had my share of eye issues since I was born with Congenital Glaucoma, but I haven’t had an open ulcer in my eye. You poor thing! That sounded so painful. I’m so glad that you went in, and they knew what it was. I’m so thankful that you didn’t lose your sight in that eye. I have had to deal with various amounts of eye pain due to my Glaucoma, but that probably pales in comparison to an eye ulcer. Sometimes I get tired of dealing with eye pain, or any type of pain. I feel like I have had to deal with some sort of eye pain or others since I was born. Thank you for giving me a new perspective on why it’s good to deal with pain so that we can ultimately turn to Christ. Glad you didn’t have to have surgery though.
God Bless,
Bethany