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“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways,” declares the Lord. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts than your thoughts.”   Isaiah 55:8-9

My dogs—Bella and Caroline—can spell. No, seriously. Saying the word “walk” would send them into a frenzy, so—years ago—we started spelling the word. And so did they. In addition to other words (like “cookie” and “car”) within their spelling vernacular, there is one that brings only fear and trepidation: V-E-T. Bella runs away to hide. Caroline cowers and starts shaking like a jackhammer. Although our sweet veterinarian has never tortured or tormented my dogs, they absolutely despise going to her office. These visits are always to either ensure the girls are healthy or to get them help to restore something that’s out of whack—whether they’re clearly in pain or just not acting like themselves.

The thing is, they’re dogs. Unlike us, their masters, they cannot grasp the concept that going to the vet is for their ultimate good. They don’t understand that the poking and prodding—no matter how distressing for them at the time—is from love and concern. And they do not realize that any uncomfortable (or even painful) prescribed treatment will lead to healing. Sometimes it’s a quick and easy fix—everyone involved is joyously relieved with little time, pain, and expense. But then my mind goes to that big head cone that each of my dogs has had to endure at some point. They absolutely hate it, but it keeps them from focusing on their pain, making an injury worse, or hindering restoration. Not a quick fix.

See where I’m going with all this?

As followers of Christ, we must see ourselves as the dogs in this scenario (not in a “furries” kinda way, mind you). There will be times throughout our walk with the Lord, when we will be hurting and out of whack—whether due to the consequences of sin, the fallenness of this world, or the enemy himself. We limp around, whimper, and cry out in agony. Unlike our pets who don’t entreat us to intervene, we do look to the Lord for help. We just want the pain to go away.

And here’s where the Bella-and-Caroline analogy really kicks in. Because God’s ways and thoughts are higher than ours (Isaiah 55:8-9), He will address our situation according to His Sovereignty—for His purposes, His glory, and our ultimate good (Romans 8:28). But we won’t always like it.

Are there times when God instantly and miraculously delivers us from disease, distress, and danger? Of course! I’ve seen it in my own life and, just the other day, I witnessed a cascade of miraculous reversals of a friend’s suffering in a 24-hour period. More often than not, though, we are taken to the v-e-t, so to speak, in our anguish. We lift our eyes to our Master for relief but are met with purposeful discomfort and distress as He uncovers (for us, not Himself) what’s going on. He pokes and prods to shine a light on sin in need of repentance and to identify any eye-protruding logs. Sometimes, friend, He just needs to place a proverbial head cone around our neck, so we’ll focus on our relationship with Him and not the circumstances around us—because that’s where our true restoration is found.

In our walk through this world toward our heavenly home, we may not understand all the whys of our pain. But God, our Master, knows what’s best for us. We have to trust Him and not lean on our pea-sized-brain understanding (Proverbs 3:5). By keeping our eyes on Him, we will find perfect peace (Isaiah 26:3), whether He delivers quick relief, provides eventual healing, or just comforts us through long-lasting suffering.

“I trust You, Lord—help me to trust You (Mark 9:24)! Reveal to me the truth of my pain, Lord. Be glorified through it and show me the good You have for me in it.”

For His Glory

Julianne Winkler Smith
TRBC Women’s Life