Hard times, these. You don’t need me to tell you that, of course. Whether watching bad news or experiencing bad news, it bites. But those stories don’t end there. The Preacher and I were reminded of that in an unusual way a few years ago. I wrote the rest of this column then, but some things need revisiting, and a little revising.
Life is hard. Loss and pain trip us up. Body cells go rogue. Viruses, germs and bugs maim and kill. Wicked people do all those things too. But when we open ourselves to a changed perspective, we find that in time, God uses our worst experiences and our deepest valleys to bring unique gifts. Gifts of grace. New spiritual perspectives, new relationships, new strength we didn’t realize we had. Even a new view of life and appreciation for living.
We had already discovered some of those things during the Preacher’s long journey of living with neurological West Nile Disease. Five years later, facing a diagnosis of stage four colon cancer, we had another opportunity to find God at work, “making all things beautiful in his time,” as scripture says.
Nevertheless, I was unprepared for my husband’s comment to friends just before his surgery to remove a big chunk of colon.
“Cancer is the new gift I’ve been given,” he said. Shocked, I argued at first. “No. Cancer is NOT a gift. It’s the platter that God can use to deliver unique gifts. But it’s not a gift, Hon.”
A peck of pork chops made me rethink that response.
“My dad worked in the packaging industry,” one of the Preacher’s nurses told us. “When a producer called to say they needed to ship, say, 10,000 pork chops, Dad’s job was to find or make just the right box to ship them in.”
That conversation in the Preacher’s ICU room brought me late to consider what he had already concluded: God knows the best gifts he wants to give us. In his omniscience we must at least consider that perhaps not only does he allow, sometimes he also designs, the only carrier possible to deliver them. No box, no chops. So yes, hard times too, can be gifts. Boxes and platters awkward to carry, ugly to view, and painful to bear, but these too, must be viewed as gifts from our Father’s hand.
In eternity’s perspective, can you trust with me that one day we who follow Christ will see our worst bad news days, our deepest valleys, our loneliest and most painful times far, far differently than we view them now? We’ll see them from our Father’s perspective. We’ll realize the gifts they held. And finally, finally, we’ll bow our heads and hearts in gratitude.
