The Other Side Of the Ouch
Photo by Diana Polekhina on Unsplash
I played in the alley growing up. For the most part it was clean and well cared for. However, playing on concrete was not kind. I have more cuts, bruises and even a few stitches as well that resulted from our outside games. I am appreciative of video games and the relationships that young people build over that medium, but there is nothing like a friend on either side of you taking you to your mother acting as though you are bleeding out. Additionally, one of our neighborhood mothers, Mrs. Wilson was a nurse and had a response for what ailed you. Last week I cut my finger and as I prepped myself for treating my injury, I recalled the words being said by my mom or Mrs. Wilson as they tended to me, “This won’t hurt.” Their words were simply for affirmation and comfort because as soon as the cotton ball saturated with liquid touched my skin, I thought without question that I would meet my mother’s Jesus. It hurt. It hurt bad. And sometimes even as we psych ourselves up, our desire to avoid pain fails. It is often unavoidable. Yet the sting is temporary. We just have to press to get to the other side of the ouch.
After my mother or Mrs. Wilson treated my injury, I was either permitted to return to playing albeit carefully or forced to sit on the porch and watch what appeared to be the best game ever minus my participation. Yet, it wasn’t long before I was able to resume my engagement and the pain that was positioned to transition me to the pearly gates passed. Our adult pain and grownup ouches don’t seem to resolve as quickly. They linger. They intensify. Other people sometimes act as conspirators rather than companions as we navigate difficulty. And at times people have just enough strength to carry their own injured self, let alone have any capacity to lock arms with you for yours. Yet there is someone always available to walk with us, carry us, even sit with us in our immobility. I Peter 5:10 reads, “And the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.” Beloved, some things will hurt and result in pain. The scripture doesn’t say, “you might suffer,” or “if you suffer;” The scripture reads, “After.” That suggests that the suffering will occur. Our invitation is trust God in the process and hold to the promise expressed in the second half of the scripture - the restoration and the strengthening that God Himself provides so that we are firm for the next trouble that will present. As we endure, we must jedi mind trick ourselves to embrace the “this won’t hurt” methodology and keep pressing forth.
I don’t know what you are facing. I have no idea about the concrete you’ve encountered. But I do know the One who cares amidst a world that feels cold. I won’t tell you that whatever you are grappling won’t hurt. But I can promise from personal experience, beyond the alley, that you can make it and there may a few people positioned to take you to be seen and cared for. Five years ago, I was experiencing a multitude of trials. My daughter moved away. My marriage was hanging in the balance. My dog died. And then a sister friend passed away unexpectedly. My world was shaken beyond measure. I could not rest and I certainly couldn’t sleep without the assistance of a bottle. I was bleeding out. Two sisters linked on either side and carried me to Jesus repeatedly. I also engaged the assistance of a therapist. The suffering was a while, but eventually, the “after” came. I was restored. I am reminded that our trials are an opportunity for God to demonstrate to again that we are not forsaken, that we are indeed loved, that we are chosen and that we can and will be positioned to encourage someone else when they fall.
You can get to the other side of the ouch and you don’t have to do it alone.