What is the hardest part of living with a chronic illness? Well, it depends on who you are asking, what time of day you are asking, and a million other factors. Yet, we all have so much in common and we can understand the challenges of the friend beside us even if we don’t deal with it ourselves. We all feel “called” to certain things, and not being able to do them–from homeschooling to making dinner–is difficult when we don’t feel we can do what we, and others, expect from our self. And the fact that it is invisible . . . well, that makes many of the struggles even more painful as we feel we must justify a housekeeper or a parking placard.

We asked you, “What is the hardest part of living with illness?” and here are your responses. As you read through them, be sure to send up a prayer for our brave participants who shared their hearts.

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“One of the hardest parts is that chronic illness seems to present an opposite picture of my character. For example, I am fairly organized, love keeping my home running smoothly, making home cooked food, and having a reasonably tidy house. Because I do not have the capacity to keep my house very tidy at times and unable to clean very much, people have judged me as being lazy and unorganized and this really has hurt me very deeply.” Lee, chronic fatigue syndrome

“Missing out on so many activities because of my illness. Your healthy friends say to you ‘let me know what I can do for you,’ but you don’t hear from them. You make the most of the days that you have because you know it is a gift from God and it is to be treasured and you do not when it will be gone.” Carla, multiple sclerosis, chronic pain

“Having more dreams than I have physical ability. I’m learning how to chase my dreams in different ways.” Kathy, mixed connective tissue disease, diabetes, and more

“People forget and assume you should be doing more than you are. Or you have to explain over and over again why you need to space out the tasks you take on, over a longer period of time to allow for flare ups and to keep from really crashing. Also, lack of sleep associated with uncontrolled pain and neurological symptoms takes a heavy toll on my emotional state and relationships.” Sherri, lupus, fibromyalgia, rheumatoid arthritis, Sjogren’s

“The hardest part of living with a chronic illness is not being able to do the same things other people your age are doing. I’m only 24 and have had this illness since I was born. I’ve never been able to run and play sports like the other kids my age. I always had to sit on the sidelines and watch, which wasn’t all bad. It was fun to sit there and cheer for my friends, but I can’t deny feeling a little left out.” Erin, multiple hereditary exotoses

“Friends and family think you are doing well cause you look good from the outside, but your body is hurting every day from the inside where no one can see.” Evelyn, chronic pancreatites

“Personally, I am not one to talk openly about my mental illness. Of course there is stigma surrounding mental illness and that impairs communication, but that is not why I “choose” to remain silent. I don’t want to call attention to my illness for fear I will be considered “weak” yet my greatest need is to be able to talk about it without fear of judgment. I could, however, explain any misconceptions about my particular illness and about chronic illness in general if I felt “safe” enough to express that which is kept hidden. I feel I only add to the misunderstanding of living with invisible illness because I am hesitant to talk about it. I want to help others better understand invisible chronic illness, and in doing so, I think that I will feel more secure with my own.” No name given

“There are many hard things about living with chronic illness. What I consider ‘the hardest’ changes from time to time, but one thing that’s really bothering me right now is the looks I get when I pull into a handicap parking spot with my state-issued PH plates and get out with my three kids and walk into a store. I do NOT LOOK SICK in any way and I feel like people are judging me, thinking I’m abusing the plates, maybe questioning if they are even mine. They have no clue about the pain I’m feeling with every step, the exhausted effort I’m putting forth simply to get through this trip to purchase groceries to feed my family. They don’t know that even if I can make it into the store alright, that by the time I’ve checked out I’ll be staggering back to my van, ever-so-greatful that it’s close enough to the door that I can make it there without throwing up from the nausea and fatigue I’m struggling under.” Jennifer, chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalgia, endometriosis, PCOS

“I am 70 years old and really want to enjoy my remaining years. I have a handicap emblem for my car which I use ‘as needed.’” Jerry, peripheral neuropathy

“When we go somewhere like Disney I can walk almost normally first thing on the morning; my wife is not handicapped. People look at us, and have often commented as to why we feel we deserve to park so close, when they have to walk so far. Of course they are not around later as I slowly make my way back to our van. But the hardest part goes beyond the invisible illness to the fact that I own my illnesses. Diabetes, neuropathy and the related depression which require large amount of medications, and still are incurable and limit my former active life style. I have found that volunteering my time and efforts to help others deal with like problems has helped me deal with my own.” Name withheld

“Working, I’m in so much pain all the time, but working at a job really makes the pain go way up.” Cindy, arthritis, neuropathy

“It is hard to pick just one thing that is the hardest part of living with a chronic illness. I think loss is the hardest part for me. Loss of health, loss of the ability to move about freely, loss of friends, loss of the ability to work, loss of self confidence, loss of financial security.” Ruth, young onset Parkinson’s, fibromyalgia, osteo arthritis

“The hardest part, hands down, is having to deal with family members who don’t believe, who doubt and test and constantly tell you what you are experiencing isn’t real and you’re faking it. Then if you have a good day – heaven forbid you should have a good day! – and can do anything you normally can’t, it is taken as ‘proof’ that your illnesses are fake. It’s a lose-lose situation.” Sharon, arthritis, asthma, fibromyalgia, allergies

“The up and down of daily living. It’s hard to plan anything. You take one day at a time. You can’t think about what others are thinking, when they see you do things one day and then are bedridden the next. They do not understand. I do not understand. I do know that God’s unfailing love is there for me and my family continues to stand there for me. Praise God!” Carla, multiple sclerosis

“The hardest part is the invisible part. I have people say I can’t be sick as they can’t see it or that it is different from others. And they can get really uptight about it all. They don’t understand when fatigue just overwhelms me, I should be able to keep doing everything! HELP!” Lee, arthritis, fibro, migraines, headaches, asthma, IBS, etc

“The hardest part of living with an invisible illness, isn’t the fact that its invisible. I have a wonderful family and wonderful friends. If you don’t believe me, I don’t care. You do not make an impact in my life, you do not live with me, and you do not help support me. Anything that is said hurts, but is soon forgotten.” Christine, reflex sympathetic dystrophy, complex regional pain syndrome

“What hurts the worse is when my invisible illness allows me a good moment, and my son shows so much joy in that moment, and then the next moment I can’t even get out of bed. No two moments are ever the same, and even though I look like I could go out and play at any moment, my son will never know if my invisible illness is so bad that just coming to ask me causes me to snap.” No name given

“Being judged for what can’t be seen. I am overweight, so the standard response I get from people is if I’d lose the weight, I’d feel better. That’s like asking ‘Which came first, the chicken or the egg?’” Doreen, rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia

“I think it is seeing people you haven’t seen in a while and them expecting you to be your old self.” Nancy, rheumatoid arthritis and tendonitis

“Being ignored/insulted/neglected by medical world, which makes everyone else think your illness must not be real. I guess it’s other people’s doubt about your suffering, and the resulting loneliness.” Sheila, lupus, fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue syndrome, diabetes, trigeminal neuralgia

“Having so many things that I would like to do and not enough energy to do them. The energy problem also affects my ability to be social and to have less isolation. I guess this is two things, not one, but the isolation is really hard.” Sherri, fibromyalgia, orthostatic hypotension, Hashimoto’s disease
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“The hardest part of living with a chronic illness is having to cut back on the amount of housework I can do. I had to cut back on activities that I used to such as church activities and not to mention being able to go on long trips and vacations with my family. But God has been good and He is helping to hang in there.” Vickie, fibromyalgia, panic and nerves eisorders

“Unrealistic expectations of me. My current family and extended family ‘angry’ that I can’t do the things I used to. ‘I want my Mother back,’ stated my daughter.” Bob and Mary Ellen, fibromyalgi, myofacial pain, arthritis, IBS, asthma, severe depression, anxiety, nerve pain from neuromas (feet), etc.

“I am 59 but look at least 10 years younger and I try to look my best at all times, so the hardest part of living with the invisible illnesses is my own perceptions of myself. Some days I feel almost normal and then I think maybe I am getting well. I look in the mirror and expect more of myself even though I am well aware of how I feel on many other days. I have a hard time balancing fighting for my health and leading as normal a life as possible, spending time with my husband, grandchildren, children, friends, run my home, wonder about having ministry influence, and yet accept where the Lord has me.” Sheryl, chronic myofascial pain, plantar fascitis, IBS, spinal curvatures

“I think the hardest part of living with an invisible chronic illness is that people don’t believe that you are as sick as you say you are. It took six years and many doctors and tests to finally get a diagnosis for my fibromyalgia. And just last year, I found a doctor that understands ALL of the issues that go along with having a headache all day every day. It’s bad enough when your family and friends don’t believe you. But, when the medical community turns their back on you and ignores you that really effects your self-worth.” Carrie, chronic saily headache, migraines, and fibromyalgia

“I have only been a Christian for seven years and I am glad that I have my firm foundation to support me during my rough times. I don’t know what plans God has for me, but I know that ‘He will use my pain to birth my passion’ as Beth Moore put it.” No name given

“I am 55, and older people actually tell me I look okay, even though I am walking poorly, or sometimes with a cane or walker. I get nasty comments when I park in disabled space, legally of course. Am a lot different person when I come out of store however–look and feel like someone else. Elderly don’t believe me when I say I collect SSDI for 5 years now, worked all my life, then disabilities much worse. Have bad days and worse, no one understands chronic pain, esp when you are under 60, have had juvenile RA since age 15, but only slowed me down a bit, always active until my late 40′s. Typical progression according to docs., not unusual to have other things added to bad bones and muscles. even church going do not understand my inability to go there, to drive much, or do simple things they can do. very frustrating. very lonely. I am a widow – have 4 grown kids and 5 grands. I see on and off.” Marjorie, juvenille rheumatoid arthritis, lupus other spinal probs, fibromyalgia, asthma, blood disorder, chronic pain

“I think the hardest part is probably that people don’t understand. You look fine, so they have expectations about how you should be able to behave, or what you should do, when they really have no idea how difficult things might be for you. If you try to explain, you look like you are making excuses.” Fiona, chronic back and neck pain

“The hardest part is to be left behind from my family. (Especially during the summer trips!). I am unable to travel or enjoy most activities, so my hubby takes the kids out to enjoy their summer. I’m left behind realizing how lonely it is to be so sick, a lot of the time! I can’t enjoy my beautiful children and see their smiles as they enjoy an amusement park, family reunion, etc.” Kelley, degenerative disk disease, endometriosis, severe joint pain, severe chemical and food allergies

“The hardest part for me is that my own adult daughter still thinks of me as being young and strong and I’m almost 57 years old; yet I feel like I’m 90. I’ve been a single parent since she was three years old and raised her without one penny of child support. She doesn’t understand the pain and exhaustion that I go through every day. I’ve had Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue since 1991 which were both brought on after I was in a car accident. However, eight months ago, I became extremely ill and lost 40 pounds in 1 1/2 months. I had to go to the emergency room 4 times in one month and had 5 IVs due to severe dehydration. I still don’t have a diagnosis as to what was wrong and I underwent numerous medical procedures. I’m still recovering from the illness that had me nearly bedridden for two weeks straight. It took me five months to finally get an appointment with my primary doctor (I had to see nurses prior to that).” Barbara, fibromyalgia, osteo-arthritis, asthma, herniated disks, migraines, IBS, chronic fatigue syndrome

“The hardest part of living with invisible illness is slowly watching the World go by, and see people leave your life. The L O N G sleepless nights filled with prayer and innermost moanings to a God you can’t feel right now. Your memories of able-bodied days Your knowledge that your loved ones are tired of dealing with your illness and knowing you’re a burden.” Jill, 3 spinal surgeries, diabetes, epilepsy, gastroparesis, degenerative disc disease, ostioparosis, nuropathies, etc.

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So, what can we do with all of the emotions? What do YOU do to get OVER those feelings of not getting everything on your list done, or frustrations of having to explain why your house isn’t clean? Remember Joshua 1:9: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” How can we turn these emotions from discouragement and fear into strength and courage?

It’s uncomfortable to sit in. You barely can relax before it tips and you feel like it will dump you backwards.

But I like how it makes me feel.

I got it at a discount store, and it was white. Eventually the hot sun cracked the paint. It slivered off like small pieces of icicle coating my patio.

I bought deep red paint for it. I like red. It’s bold, energizing.

I need more energy. Red is good.

My parents came to visit. Dad painted it for me and left it out in the grass to dry.

The next morning. . .

“Are those sprinklers?” Dad asked.
“Yes, why?”
Long pause. . .
“The chair!” he yells and runs out to the grass.

Streaked paint. The red paint was now called “primer.”

One day I am listening to one of my favorite songs, Old Blue Chair by Kenny Chesney.

There’s a blue rocking chair,
Sittin’ in the sand.
Weathered by the storms and well oiled hands.
It sways back and forth with the help of the winds,
Seems to always be there, like an old trusted friend.

I look out my kitchen window to my red-streaked chair. It needs to be blue.

Bright Mediterranean blue. Cool blue. Relaxing. Chilled out. Comforting.

I bought the spray paint and each day painted until my hand could barely unbend.

“On that great day,” God says, ‘I will round up all the hurt and homeless, everyone I have bruised or banished. I will transform the battered . . .’” (Micah 4:6)

At last, the chair was transformed.

Just as God transforms us. We crack, we peel, we get hit with sprinklers that feel like storms. We are bruised, we are battered, but God gives us a new coat of paint.

How is God transforming me?

Now my blue rocking chair is a reminder to sit on the patio and just relax. Be carefree. Go barefoot. It’s always there, like a trusted old friend.

Am I being transformed from a woman who lives in a world of bold red, to one who seeks the soothing of aqua blue? Do I need to continue to prove anything? Can I just be?

Not everything in our life must have a purpose other than bringing us pleasure.

Not everything I do or think must make a statement. I can live in the chilled out world of blue.

And anything can be transformed. . . even me. . .
. . . with a bit of love.

Lisa Copen is the founder of Rest Ministries and she lives in San Diego with her husband and son. She is gradually learning how to balance motherhood, family, illness, and ministry, but she still knows it will be a lifetime lesson. You can see the books she has written, including, Why Can’t I Make People Understand? at the Rest Ministries shop.

I am lying in bed trying to get comfortable. I’ve flipped my pillow over a dozen times. Covers off, covers on. Heating pad. Ice pack.

I am sick. And I am grumpy.

I had the week planned. Fun times with son before school starts, play date with kids and movie on Wednesday. I am to get my first 5-hour infusion of a new drug Friday with babysitter all arranged, husband driving me there and getting off work early to bring me home. Plans with friends on Saturday night if I feel up to it after the infusion.

Instead I find myself trying to decide between nibbling on a saltine or a Ritz.

What would be more likely for me to keep down?

I have nothing positive to find in this I say to myself. People would be so disappointed in me. Sometimes I am such a fraud.

The negative thoughts keep going through my head. This will mess up my plans to get my medication. I spent so much time getting it all arranged. . . for a drug I don’t even want, a drug that is going to cost me a fortune. This isn’t fair to my son! I just had one day between my knee going out and getting sick. He is so tired of mommy not feeling well.

At last I decide to try to make it to the kitchen. I will go for the Ritz. And just as I get there, I step in something. Evidently I am not the only one sick. The cat is sick too.

The words of Philippians 4:8 taunt me “. . .whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things.”

As I get back into bed, I realize even I am tired of my own laments. I need to think of what I am grateful for.

Is there anything that is excellent or praiseworthy in this situation, Lord?

“Of course, daughter,” He says. “You have a bed. You even have a choice between two crackers. You have hot water. You have people who love you. . .”

Okay, You’re right, Lord. I am sorry. Forgive me for being so sour. Here it goes, I am blessed to have a bed. I am thankful I have my family. Lord, thank you that I don’t have to be anywhere tomorrow. Thank you for my husband getting me a wash clothe for my head. Thank you for us having crackers. I am grateful my son is being so understanding. Thank you that my husband has a job so we have insurance. . .”

Somewhere in there I fall asleep.

Lisa Copen is the founder of Rest Ministries and she lives in San Diego with her husband and son. She is gradually learning how to balance motherhood, family, illness, and ministry, but she still knows it will be a lifetime lesson. You can see the books she has written, including, Why Can’t I Make People Understand? at the Rest Ministries shop.

1954. My mother’s mother got a new table. My mother was in third grade. Each day she came home from school and sat at it and had popcorn and grape juice.

Now it sits in my home. My grandmother has been in heaven for over a decade. Her table traveled 1500 miles to reside in my kitchen.

I have photos of me sitting in a baby bathtub on this table. I sat at it as a child.

Grandma, can I have one more piece of cobbler?

Even as a child I remember my grandmother’s Bible sitting on this table.

When I sit at it, I can feel her love. When I read my Bible at it, I feel God’s love.

My grandmother had feet that were very broken down. She always wore special shoes to help her keep walking.

Grandma would sit down at this table after a long day and spend 20 minutes undoing the laces on her specialty boots.

Oh, look away. Don’t look. It’s rude to stare, I told myself. Grandma’s feet were scary looking, red, bones in odd places. How on earth can she walk on those? I silently asked myself.

Each day my feet resemble hers more. I’m scared. I don’t want to have the pain she had in her feet. . .How did she serve all those exquisite meals at this table when she could barely stand?

Love.

She loved doing it.

She loved serving. Cooking the food was her way of being a servant.

Her life was very hard. Her husband did not make her life easy for her, sometimes going out of his way to make her walk even farther.

“Get me this, get me that” he’d say from his chair. And she’d hustle to get it.

I grew up and saw my role as a woman differently than hers. I thought she was meek to not stand up to him.

But she had made a choice. She chose to stay. . . To serve.

By choosing to serve him, she was choosing to serve Jesus.

Perhaps she had moments of meekness, but are not the meek blessed for they will inherit the earth? (Matthew 5:5)

Why did I never hear her complain?

Because she was too busy giving God praises. She was too busy figuring out who she needed to take a pie to on her block to cheer them up. She was too busy reading her Bible to sit around and tell us that which her life lacked. She was too busy finding out how other people needed prayer and then actually praying for them.

She was no pushover. My mom remembers her mother chasing her through the house with a hanger when she sassed her once.

But she listened for God’s voice that said, “This is the way; walk in it.” (Isaiah 30:21) And then she walked. . . one step at a time. . . balancing on disfigured feet, deformed ankles. But. . .

She walked.

Just keep walking, I tell myself. The day may come when you can no longer walk, but you can always walk in “it.”

I can walk the path I am given. . . or I can sit down and quit. But I cannot walk the path God has designated for someone else.

God, give me Your strength in my weakness. Show me the way and I will do my best to walk in it.

Lisa Copen is the founder of Rest Ministries and she lives in San Diego with her husband and son. She is gradually learning how to balance motherhood, family, illness, and ministry, but she still knows it will be a lifetime lesson. You can see the books she has written, including, Why Can’t I Make People Understand? at the Rest Ministries shop.

Oh, not today, Lord. Pleee-eee–ase, not today.

If only we could be pain-free on the weekends.

I lean over on the bed with my arms and try to bend and unbend the knee as my husband snores. He got home from work sometime around midnight. It was a deadline day. It was an impossible deadline. He worked 15-hour days all week and still didn’t make the deadline. He will have to go back into work today, Saturday.

I try putting weight on my foot again. Wince. Moan. I try to vocalize my pain quietly. I limp to the living room. Chair. I need a chair.

Why does it look so far away?

“Josh,” I say to my son who is already up watching cartoons, “Can you move the stuff from Mommy’s chair so I can sit down?” He ignores me.

I get to the chair and try to balance, putting the weight on one foot while I toss the Playstation controller, the hot wheel cars, a empty DVD box, the granola bar wrapper. It’s only 7:45 and my house is getting trashed.

Eventually I limp the kitchen. I need medicine. . . and food. I go into rebellion mode–which means I will make a nice breakfast even if I have to stand on one leg to do it–scrambled eggs with bacon, peppers, onions, and mushrooms. I feel like a normal mom on a Saturday morning. Except I can barely reach the bowl on the bottom shelf.

Okay, Lord, I’m not going to let this irritate me. I won’t let it get to me.

And I drop an egg on the floor.

It’s the third egg in three days I have dropped. I hate my deformed hands.

Sigh, what a waste.

I finish scrambling up the eggs, I make up a plate.

“Josh, go tell Daddy there are hot eggs.” I repeat myself about 4 times in the next 5 minutes. “Please, Mommy can’t walk that far right now.”

I limp to the patio and sit down to eat the eggs.

A beautiful morning, so peaceful out here. I wish I had my coffee. It’s by the chair.

My husband sticks his head out, “Did you need something?”

“No, I told Josh to tell you there were hot eggs.”

“He told me that you needed something,” he chuckles. “He knew that would get me up!”

He gets his eggs and then joins me on the patio.

“I have to go into work today,” he says apologetically.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him. I am glad in today’s economy he has a job. I never try to make him feel badly about having to work. “I just hope my knee starts to work. I don’t know what Josh and I will do today if I can’t walk.”

This is not going to be the fun family day I’d been hoping for. . . Either my body or circumstances will mess is up. Likely both.

He finds me a menthol pain patch and I stick it on my knee. Now I just wait an hour and I will know what I can plan for the day. The menthol helps reduce the swelling so the piece of bone may move back to the right place. Sometimes.

I go back and sit down in the living room. My son is building a hot wheel track that starts 4 feet off the ground.

I am exhausted. The pain is exhausting. I feel like I’ve just come from a work out at the gym, only there is no adrenaline high. There is just pain. And dread. Is this what the day will hold?

There are only a couple more Saturdays before school starts. I wanted to do something fun for him today.

He is building the track near me.

“Mom, here is a pillow for your foot.”

Ah, how sweet!

“It’s okay, honey, it’s my knee that is hurting, but thank you.”

“Put your foot on it,” he says.

“That’s not really going to work,” I explain.

“I need it to work. My track is coming over here and I don’t want the cars to hit you.” (He speaks from experience of cars flying off the track into my foot.)

I am an obstacle that he is trying to avoid with his track.

I am an obstacle in my husband finding peace today–peace that he can go to work without guilt. He has to go, but he will feel badly about leaving us on a day I am in so much pain.

“But Jesus was matter-of-fact: ‘Yes—and if you embrace this kingdom life and don’t doubt God, you’ll not only do minor feats like I did to the fig tree, but also triumph over huge obstacles. This mountain, for instance, you’ll tell, ‘Go jump in the lake,’ and it will jump. Absolutely everything, ranging from small to large, as you make it a part of your believing prayer, gets included as you lay hold of God.’” (Matthew 21:21, The Message)

I am an obstacle in my own life more times than I would like to admit.

Take a deep breath. . . you are choosing to be that obstacle. You can see only the negatives, the can’t dos, the I wishes, or you can see that God chose for you to wake up today with this knee and see what He plans to do with it.

Sometimes the biggest obstacle in my life are my own thoughts.

Lisa Copen is the founder of Rest Ministries and she lives in San Diego with her husband and son. She is gradually learning how to balance motherhood, family, illness, and ministry, but she still knows it will be a lifetime lesson. You can see the books she has written, including, Why Can’t I Make People Understand? at the Rest Ministries shop.

Note: The following article is an excerpt from Beyond Pain: Job, Jesus, and Joy, reprinted with permission of author, Maureen Pratt. Many of you know Maureen as you have read her previous book, Peace in the Storm and watched Rest Ministries founder, Lisa Copen, on Maureen’s TV show of the same name.

This book is available at Amazon (where you can read Lisa Copen’s review) among other places.

JESUS: Our Light and Our Hope

. . .but we even boast of our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope, and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the holy Spirit that has been given to us. For Christ, while we were still helpless, yet died at the appointed time for the ungodly. . . God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” Romans 5:3-6,8

In the Old Testament, those suffering illness, deformity and pain are often considered social pariahs, and people for whom good fortune and God’s approval seem to have cast aside. The lessons of Job (humility, gratitude and outreach to others) are valuable to us today. But even more inspirational for us are the lessons imparted to us by Jesus Christ, especially his message of love, respect, and salvation available to all people.

Through His ministry, example and ultimate sacrifice of death on the cross, Jesus brings those who suffer hope to do more than merely endure their lives–He breathes new energy and life into those who are faltering. His Sermon on the Mount offers food for those whose lives are torn by grief, poverty, despair and pain. His abiding love embraces all, regardless of their station in life.

Jesus was the Son of God, divine in every way. But He also walked upon the earth and among the people of the day, and in this, He, too, suffered much long before His excruciating trek to Calvary. He experienced very human emotions, becoming enraged, weeping, and, one has to imagine, laughing, too.

In a time when transportation was on foot or, for the very fortunate, by [donkey], our Lord traveled roads choked by dust, peppered with stones, abuzz with biting flies, and baked by scorching sun–a far cry from our air-conditioned automobiles and buses!

Jesus was not a wealthy man when He set out on His journey, nor did He acquire wealth along the way. He did not even have a steady income, savings account, health insurance, or government assistance–things that many of us take for granted today.

Yet for all of these discomforting obstacles, our Lord was not deterred from carrying out His mission. Rather, He set forth in His ministry enduring much physical and emotional pain, and did not stop when the pain worsened–even unto death.

What can we learn from this?

Jesus shows us by His example that we need not have millions of dollars or be pain free before doing God’s work. Rather, we need to take who we are, all that we are, and set forth, just as He did.

Jesus also reminds us that, if God could send His only Son to die for us, we should understand that our lives will be a mixture of good and pain. Job learned this. But what is so very different here, and what sheds warm, bright light upon our lives, is that God is not only greater than we are in our suffering, He is also all-loving.

Illness is not a punishment, nor is it an indication of moral failings or poor character. From Job’s “woe is me. . .” Jesus brings us to “blessed are we. . .”
How wonderful is the Lord!

The Joy Despite Suffering

The joy that Job experiences at the end of his story is very much an earthly joy–his prosperity is restored, he feels better, he is accepting of who he is and who God is. Job’s joy comes from his trials and his ability to develop strength, courage, and self-awareness.

The joy that Jesus brings is far beyond any that we experience on earth. It is a divine joy that culminates in the reality of the Resurrection, the Lord’s promise fulfilled.

We still need strength, courage, and self-awareness to build our faith and ministry. But we have Jesus’ light to guide us, and His example to emulate. This is a tall order, especially if we are physically and emotionally frail! But, as we know, nothing is impossible with God. . . And if we have glimmers of this truth in the Old Testament, in the New Testament, we meet the full reality of this truth from the very beginning of Christ’s remarkable life.

PRAYER
Oh, Lord, so very often
My pain makes me feel old.
Help me in the coming days and nights
renew my energy and youth of spirit.
Light my life with your grace
and fill me with your hope.
Help my faith
overcome the pain that weighs me down.

Amen

Maureen Pratt is an award-winning playwright, journalist and author, as well as a sought-after speaker and patient advocate. Her biweekly column, “Living Well,” is in distribution through Catholic News Service and has appeared in publications in the United States and abroad. Her articles have appeared in the Los Angeles Times, Arthritis Today Magazine, Lupus Now Magazine, National Employment Business Weekly, and other national and regional publications. Her play, “In Good Faith,” won the Best Play, State of Maryland Award, and her manuscript, “Dream Come True,” won the 1999 Molly Best Inspirational Award.