Why Can it Feel Like a Long Way Home for Christians?

Next time, for instance, I might bring an ankle brace and a cane. I had a long walk back to my car after my most recent hike, a walk that inspired me to wonder about living through suffering without Christ.

The Puzzling Incident

Early one Saturday morning, I geared up for a hike, downloaded a trail to my phone, drove to a regional park, and set out for a hike early enough to beat the heat and the crowds. The trail was well marked; the sky was blue.

I felt strong, excited, and fit. This was a mildly challenging route featuring some slopes so steep and slippery with loose ground that I had to use my hands to keep from slipping.

There were some rocks to climb, but nothing overly technical. I made it three-quarters of the way without incident; didn’t twist, roll, or traumatize any part of myself as far as I was aware.

Pain started quite suddenly in my right ankle, but it does that sometimes. I have osteoarthritis plus my feet need extra support. I wear excellent hiking shoes.

When my foot and ankle get really sore, I typically keep moving, working out those painful kinks. Movement lubricates the joints. Often, I’ll feel a “crack,” then “pop,” and then the pain subsides.

This time, I felt as though something extra had grown in my ankle — a new bone perhaps; something that didn’t belong. The pain grew, and my foot felt tight inside my shoe, I expected to look down and see that my ankle was twice its normal size.

Loosening my lace on that side, I couldn’t see bruising or swelling but planned to examine more closely back at the car, which was two to three kilometers away. Maybe I’d been stung by the wasp that had been following me or bitten by a rattlesnake.

Perhaps there was something poisonous in the dry fir needles, a few of which I’d had to pull out of my sock.

Those last few kilometers should have taken me 20 minutes. On this occasion, I hobbled slowly for an hour, gritting my teeth and willing someone to come by and help me on the last stretch, which was a private road overlooking swanky houses (while also determining that I wouldn’t get into anyone’s car).

No one stopped, though several people passed me as I limped to my car. Mind you, I did pretend to be all right, smiling and saying “hi” at the cyclists, and I didn’t wave my hands around. You really do have to ask for help sometimes if you want it.

At the car, I took my shoe off with great relief but also trepidation, where I discovered — nothing. No bruising, swelling, or blood. No sting or bite. I was still in a lot of pain, even bending it to use the accelerator caused a grimace every time.

I couldn’t run any of the errands I had planned for the rest of that day. Puzzled at first, but now I think it was probably just the arthritis.

I can move my foot again today. There’s barely any sign of what had happened although I’m driving to work for a few days just in case. But I’m worried — when is this going to happen next? Is it dangerous to go hiking?

Calm in Christ

Also, where did that sense of calm come from? During those last agonizing steps, I thought about calling a friend to drive one and a half hours to my hiking spot and get me.

I thought about calling 911. I thought about throwing a tantrum. I thought about waiting for a total stranger to come along so I could flag him or her down but refused to get into his car.

Painful as it was, I strongly believed the injury couldn’t be that bad; I’d make it to my car. After all, I’m 50 — I’ve had experience enduring difficult stuff, knowing that by this time tomorrow, it will all be over. It hardly crossed my mind that I might be in real trouble, even though I’ve got no reason to be so cocky.

Talking to God was very helpful. I asked, “What do people do when they suffer every day and there is no relief, and they don’t know you as their Father?

Don’t believe in Jesus as their Savior? Haven’t got any hope for the reward of heaven after everything they have endured?”

There are people in my world (as there are, no doubt, in yours) living with crippling illnesses, debilitating injuries, agonizing conditions for which there is only treatment but no cure.

Every day they must resolve to endure their suffering, knowing there will be no relief today, suspecting there will be none tomorrow.

And many of these people are not saved. They believe that death is the end. What gives them the hope to carry on? I think it’s less hope and more fear or guilt.

They don’t want to commit suicide because this would be so hurtful to their loved ones, or they believe suicide is a cowardly option, or they wonder “Is death really the end?”

A lot of people will stay their hand because they were taught, as children, that suicides lead to hell. One way or another, these individuals survive another day, but there’s no joy in it.

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At one point, I wondered if I would have to endure this kind of pain more often, more intensely, in other areas of my body. After all, osteoarthritis can spread, and I noticed later on that as I compensated for the pain in my ankle, other sensitive areas became sore.

I’ve been so fortunate up to this point in my life to have avoided any major illness or injury — why shouldn’t something dramatic happen to my body? And if I suddenly did face a terrible diagnosis, would I be able to counsel myself as I did while limping to my car?

What jumped out at me when I was almost in tears, ready to curl up on the road was “You can endure the pain now because, in the end, you will see Christ face-to-face.” Would I remember that truth while facing ongoing, severe pain?

The Promise of Eternity

There is no comparison between a sore ankle and MS, cancer, or chronic migraines, stenosis, Lyme Disease, or diabetes.

I think of Joni Eareckson Tada, embodying the truly faithful perspective from her wheelchair, sharing the trials and also the joy of knowing that “suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Romans 5:3-5).

If Joni Eareckson Tada gains her hope from such a promise, that’s a cause to take notice.

Paul declared, “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18).

I think it’s normal in times of trial to cry out as Jesus did, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46) even if we believe in the eternal reward for steadfast faith. Why call on a God who doesn’t exist? You wouldn’t.

I wasn’t enduring torture or chemotherapy or facing a lifetime of crippling pain, but the example of Paul, James, and Joni got me through my tiny example of endurance. 

Their joy in knowing who their Lord is — He is good and loving, and he has a plan. I experienced a strange relief and — there’s that word again — joy even though I could only relate to a fraction of their pain because Christ was close and I knew it.

Don’t Take My Word for It

So, I wondered — if you could endure joyfully, why wouldn’t you? Some of you might be on the verge of belief, not sure yet if you want to give yourself up to Christ, possibly angry that life has been so hard emotionally, physically, economically, etc.

I’m so sorry this has happened in your life. And it’s true — believing doesn’t change these circumstances, nor does choosing not to believe. Healings are possible, but Christians are not immune to injury, illness, and loss.

But what if you called on the name of the Lord? You don’t have to do it in public, so what have you got to lose?

How would it change your experience of suffering to know that your Savior is real, he walked through your experience 2,000 years ago at Golgotha, and he will never leave your side?

You are not alone, friend, and believe me when I say that those fleeting moments when I fully realize that Jesus is literally with me are awe-inspiring, beautiful, and unforgettable. They keep me company whenever the road in front of me seems intolerably long and painful.

For further reading:

Does Salvation Affect More Than Just Eternity?

Are We Ready for Our Journey to Eternity?

Can Christians Be Afraid of What Eternity Will Hold?

Photo Credit: ©iStock/Getty Images Plus/Zbynek Pospisil

Candice Lucey is a freelance writer from British Columbia, Canada, where she lives with her family. Find out more about her here.