The Invisible Crown of Suffering
I can physically feel the tension between my mortality and eternity - the already not yet of my salvation being worked out on a cosmic scale. I am learning to let my suffering serve as a constant reminder of the hope that is ahead of me. It's like the Lord has placed an invisible crown on my head - a crown that this world cannot see, but I can feel because it is heavy with the weight of glory - a glory that is being worked out as my faith is refined through suffering.
Adjusting to life with a disabled body is not for the faint of heart. This transition has felt like being trapped in a perpetual escape room with endless puzzles to solve and no real hope of breaking out. Everytime I adapt to one challenge, another arises. It’s surreal to go from living the majority of my life with a strong, athletic, able body to feeling like I’ve been taken hostage by a cloak of uncooperative flesh that appears foreign and unfamiliar when I look in the mirror. As the life I once knew collides with my harsh new reality, I feel like I have a weird form of mind/body whiplash. Some nights I dream as an able-bodied person and other nights my subconscious incorporates my disability into my dreams. That’s weird, right? Most days I find myseIf still thinking I can walk, stand, and function like I used to and then I have to get up to move and am quickly reminded that I don’t have the strength or balance to take more than a few steps without using my wheelchair. When I’m in conversations with people who are talking about their plans to travel, or go hiking, paddle boarding, or play pickleball - I imagine myself being able to join them - and then I’m struck with the reality that those are no longer activities I can participate in. There are moments when this exclusion can make me feel deep levels of grief, but most of the time I feel the Lord saturate me in a peace that surpasses my ability to understand. The more that is taken away from me, the more I am learning to savor Jesus.
I would never have chosen this life of chronic pain and suffering, but I am starting to realize the beauty it is forging in my soul as my trust and contentment in Christ grows deeper and deeper. Though my flesh is failing my spirit is being vivified. I can physically feel the tension between my mortality and eternity - the already not yet of my salvation being worked out on a cosmic scale. I am learning to let my suffering serve as a constant reminder of the hope that is ahead of me. It's like the Lord has placed an invisible crown on my head - a crown that this world cannot see, but I can feel because it is heavy with the weight of glory - a glory that is being worked out as my faith is refined through suffering. One day when I enter into eternity I will get to cast this crown at the feet of Jesus and it will result in His praise, honor, and glory for all eternity. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18; 1 Peter 1:6-7; Revelation 4:10-11) This is the hope that makes my current reality not just bearable, but something I can embrace with a willing heart. I yearn to let it change and transform me. I am thankful for the ways my disability has revealed strongholds in my life that I would have otherwise been unaware of.
I used to derive so much of my value from my appearance and athleticism. The changes in my body have peeled back deep layers of my heart and disclosed so many misplaced affections. For decades I have allowed the standards of this world to determine my worth. As a Christian I thought I was finding my identity in Christ and relying on the sufficiency of His love, but the shame and insecurity I felt when I used my wheelchair in public for the first time called my bluff. The words of James have taken on a whole new level of conviction for me,
“You adulterous people! Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Therefore, whoever wishes to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God.” - James 4:4
I realized that my affections have always been divided. As much as I have sincerely loved Jesus since dedicating my life to Him over 30 years ago, I also love the approval of others. Sadly, this resulted in me spending most of my life being obsessed with myself - always worried about what I look like and what others think of me. Being in a wheelchair is forcing me to draw my confidence from a deeper well. I cannot leave the house without relying 100% on the strength and sufficiency of Christ. As Jesus gently and lovingly uses my disability to snip the strings of my heart that have been so intertwined with the things of this world, He is not being cruel or inflicting pain, He is actually setting me free.
It’s difficult to explain, but somehow my perspective has shifted. At first I felt defeated and humiliated being in a wheelchair, but gradually the Lord helped me see how helpful it has been to my spiritual growth. The humility I have to daily swallow has become the most life-giving vitamin for my soul. Rather than feeling entitled to the things of this life, I realize how truly undeserving I am. This has helped shift my perspective from one of anger and frustration to one of joy and gratitude. Anything and everything I have in this life is only by the grace of God. It has taught me to think less of myself and more about God and the glory of His gospel. While I was His enemy, Christ died for me. (Romans 5:8-10) I deserved death - but God - being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loved me, made me alive with Christ and saved me by His grace. (Ephesians 2:4-5) Applying this understanding to my circumstances changes the way I see the world and my place in it. For the first time in my life, I no longer worry about what others think of me. Instead my suffering gives me a constant awareness that this world is not my home so I no longer feel a need to fit into it. Even though everything I do is a struggle and I am in constant pain, my soul is at rest in Jesus as I eagerly await His blessed appearance (Titus 2:13). Dane Ortlund puts it well in his book Deeper,
“If you want to be a solid, weighty, radiant old man or woman someday, let the pain in your life force you to believe your own theology. Let it propel you into deeper fellowship with Christ than ever before.”
As I saturate myself in God’s Word, the knowledge of His love and sovereignty gives me a new lens through which to see my affliction. All the theology I have learned has not only renewed my mind, but it has penetrated my heart and saturated every fiber of my being to the point that I can physically feel the tension of my salvation being worked out within me. My suffering serves as a weighty, invisible crown that I have the privilege of wearing this side of eternity. It’s a constant reminder of the glory that awaits me at the consummation of my redemption.
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God…And not only creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved.” - Romans 8:18-19; 23-24
