Punishment

I used to think the suffering was a punishment. It’s not hard to think that way.

Nobody enjoys pain. At least, not sane people,

But then, I always come back to that part in Scripture that says God disciplines those He loves.

Maybe my suffering isn’t about me as much as it is about God.

I read Scripture now as a chance to know Our Father better, whereas before, I often read it from the “me-me-me” perspective: what could this little line right here tell me about who I am, my future, my needs and wants like I was scanning my horoscope.

Now, it’s a little different. When you’re being punched in the gut and think to shout “Why?” but know that question is futile, you start asking a different question:

“What about You?”

I think about God’s suffering more often than my own now, how maybe it’s more of an honor than a punishment. Like He trusts me enough to bring me into His inner circle and pull back what it’s like when all your children turn their backs on you.

And still, His love. It grows so deep and steady and refuses to falter no matter how many times we do.

Living that in real-time with another human being you call your own? Heart wrenching. Pride killing. Soul crushing.

Which should really, above all else, show us how strong our God is. Not just in the physical sense but in the deeply emotional.

How He can suffer us all a million times over and never yield to the punishment we deserve, I’ll never understand. All I know is I’m grateful.