Sometimes God’s purposes in the midst of trials are clear. How do we endure when they aren’t?

———————————————————————————————————————–

I used to find the end of the book of Job wholly unsatisfying. Job had suffered immensely. I could relate to his questions, and I felt his pain when God was silent and Job felt abandoned. When God finally spoke, I expected Him to explain the reasons behind everything and the purpose of it all to Job. Anyone who has read Job knows that does not happen. I felt cheated by the end of the story when I first read it.

My husband Doug and I were medical missionaries in Nepal for four years. Not everyone in Dadeldhura, Nepal was happy to have us there. Some local leaders were antagonistic toward our Christian hospital, viewing us as a threat to their interests. Just months before the end of our four-year term in Nepal, a young mother died at our hospital. Though our staff did nothing wrong and worked tirelessly to save her, those local leaders took advantage of the situation to foment hostility. Before we knew it, a volatile, angry mob was at our door, making demands and threats. In the crowd were the very people we came to serve. We had cared for their aging parents, saved their wives and babies, set their broken bones. This was not the first time something like this had happened, but it was the most aggressive and egregious.

Being a young mother of two, with Doug working long hours as the medical director of our remote, understaffed hospital, had already taken a toll on me. The angry mob was a tipping point for my mental health. After we returned to the U.S., I was diagnosed with severe clinical depression. I gradually recovered, but within months of our return, the government unexpectedly took our hospital over, and it would no longer be a Christian hospital. Everything we had sacrificed for was gone.

Six months after we returned to the U.S., I noticed mild abdominal pain. When it became severe a few days later, Doug brought me to the emergency room. We were shocked when a CT scan showed masses in my abdomen. Within days we found out I had stage IV cancer. The following weeks were a dizzying rollercoaster of biopsies, scans and sad conversations with my oncologist. The cancer proved to be an enigma; none of the diagnostics revealed a primary, but it was growing rapidly. We started chemo, not knowing if it would make any difference. We cried out to God, as we had countless times in Nepal. And after one month of chemo, the cancer unexpectedly disappeared. The masses and metastases in my abdomen were all gone.

Wow, God! We were amazed and thankful. We called on God’s name, and He answered in a mighty way. And I saw God working in the midst of our suffering. Many people were encouraged in their faith as they saw their prayers answered and witnessed God’s care for me. I grew closer to God as I experienced His presence in the valley of the shadow of death.

However, two months after I finished chemo, I found out I had cancer again. After God had rescued me so dramatically, this turn of events baffled us. I had surgery; the tumor board determined no further treatment was needed. I was relieved, yet also troubled within my soul. Would the cancer come back? God, why did you allow this to happen? Haven’t I suffered enough in my short life?

When a follow-up CT five months later showed cancer again, I felt completely abandoned and alone.

But God.

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, the very people who prayed for us during our years in Nepal also prayed for healing for me. During a time of prayer, God graciously told a few of those people He would heal me of cancer—though the twists and turns of my illness made it hard for me to believe. After receiving this news of cancer coming a third time, God reminded me of what He had said. We again asked for healing in Jesus’ name. Reassured that God would do what He said He would do, I asked my oncologist for another CT scan, which showed the cancer had disappeared. In the six weeks between scans, I had no chemo, radiation, surgery, immunotherapy or other treatment. This was a divine intervention—God took the cancer away. It has been nine years, and I am still cancer-free.

I look back on that year and a half of suffering through cancer, and the moments in the middle that felt like meaningless suffering fade into the background. God was so gracious, not only to heal me, but also to give us all a glimpse of His glory. I had experienced an Acts-level miracle. He pulled back the curtain to show us a reality that is always there, that we cannot always see.

I look back at our four years in Nepal, and there are moments of suffering that I still see no purpose in. I wish I could say there is now a thriving church there in Dadeldhura, or an even better Christian healthcare ministry there, or some other return-on-suffering-investment to report. I cannot say that, but I trust God.

Sometimes God pulls the curtain back and lets us in on what is happening on a cosmic level. We get to see in great detail how our stories are part of His larger story; we catch glimmers of meaning in the sufferings we endure. Sometimes that is in the middle of the crisis, a cup of cold water to refresh our spirits as we stagger through parched deserts. Sometimes it is in hindsight, when our pruned branches bear the hoped-for fruit. At other times, we do not see anything at all, and our Why? and How long? questions remain unanswered. In those times, we must trust in our unchanging God. He is still good and is still in control. The reality we cannot always see is still there.

The ending of Job lands differently for me now. Seeing God with your own eyes, like I did when I was healed, will do that. In the midst of present sufferings, I still have questions; like Job, though, I accept there are things happening beyond my understanding, things too wonderful for me to know. When there are no tidy answers to why we suffer as we do, when we search for meaning and find none at the moment, may we find rest for our souls in God, who can do all things and whose purposes cannot be thwarted.

Ruth Lindberg is a family physician. Her husband Doug is CMDA’s Director of the Center for Advancing Healthcare Missions. She lives in Brookfield, Wisconsin with Doug and their two children.