When You Lose and it Really Hurts

Several years ago, I made a gutsy decision and moved to another country. I’d always wanted to live in another, my children were young, and it seemed like the right time to make such a move. I was  confident it would work out. I believed God would raise up valleys and lower mountains on my behalf.

Ultimately, nothing turned out the way I thought it was supposed to. I ended up losing almost everything I valued.

I had sold my home in Bothell which meant that when I realized I was in way over my head with a trans-continental move, I had no place to return to. I had sold my cars, and flown out of my city in such a bold move of confidence, I didn’t have the courage to go back home with my tail between my legs and admit I was possibly, just ever so slightly, in over my head. I was also extremely exhausted, overwhelmed, and so disappointed in humanity as a whole, that the only thing I could do was sit down and cry. For six months.

Sometimes we lose. We lose big. And sometimes there’s nothing right or correct about the losses we suffer. They dash our hopes against the rocks, they strip us of all the energy we had, and we sit down in the pool of our own tears and lament.

That first year in another country changed me forever. It transformed my faith. It overhauled my inner life, and it altered my view of this world.

I walked into a situation expecting one very real outcome, an outcome where I’d come out strong and on top, where I’d get to feel safe and secure, where I’d be bold and daring and be praised for it.

Instead, I was laid low. I experienced an outcome where I felt scared and worried, frightened of this world and how much very real harm there is. I broke. There was no boldness or daring adventurous spirit left inside me. I was startled and damaged. My confident faith got stripped and I had to sit in a place of deep lament and figure out how to patch my life back together …

Because of that dark season, I learned a few things at the soul level, things I might not have learned had the ground not quaked and changed my life forever.

I learned that God dwells with the broken-hearted and the crushed in spirit. God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. Humble is lowly, of the earth, weak but so much stronger than power. If you wonder where God is in all the strange turn of events this world is seeing right now — search for the most broken-hearted and needy among you and hang out there. That is where God’s heart is the easiest to find. God does not take sides in matters the way that people do. God LOVES all people, but God does take the side of the afflicted over the one who afflicts. This can be a tricky thing to comprehend because we don’t always see aright. Sometimes we get it wrong and assume things about our world and we need God to help us see better. So we pray and ask God to help us recognize the power hungry nature and pride of our own greedy hearts, and to see, notice, regard the powerless and disappointed people all around us.

Over time, maybe because I experienced real heart break, honest-to-God loss, I began to recognize it in other people with a deeper level of compassion, to feel other people’s pain in ways I’d never been able to before, which helped me pray for others and reach out of my own sadness to offer aid, or friendship without double motives. Simple friendship, simple companionship.

I also learned that Jesus is present with me. At the start of my time in Chile, there were some people who made me really afraid and I felt extremely alone. Those people intimidated and scared me to the point that I didn’t know how to walk with confidence anymore. I walked with my head down in shame and sometimes I was afraid to leave my house. Until I remembered some very precious words … “Come, Lord Jesus Come.”

Whenever I had to go places where I knew I’d see the people I was afraid of, I would physically hold out my arm and pretend to clasp hands with Jesus and then I’d whisper, “Come Lord Jesus, Come.” I’d imagine Jesus walking next to me, as my companion. My head would come up, and somehow I’d walk with more confidence, and the strange loneliness that plagued me, the loneliness that bears the weight of great loss and feels like no one will ever understand it, seemed to ebb out a little, because I knew Jesus was with me. The presence of Jesus became the sustenance of my life. Not creeds, or beliefs about God, not the programs of the institution, or even the right and wrong of things. The only thing that actually helped me was the companionship of Jesus. He became my dearest friend.

It’s not that I knew this presence in the physical self. I knew it in another sense. I knew it because I chose to believe it. I also didn’t really care much if I was wrong. I needed to believe Jesus was with me more than I needed my doubts, so I believed.

Ultimately, I did not bring about any great lasting change in the city I was so convinced I’d been called to. There was no massive revival or great awakening. The great change happened instead, inside of me. Day by day, as I sought to invite the presence of Jesus into the middle of my every day circumstances, I discovered grace and life and a kind of hope that could be almost be called miraculous.

I would love to hear about any experiences you’ve had that altered how you practice your faith …

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