Refining By Fire

I’ve shared in a previous post here that my mother has brain cancer. A day will come when I write about something else, but right now it’s the elephant in my room. God teaches us so many lessons through adversity, doesn’t he? He even promises it: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance” (James 1:2–3 NIV).

I’m currently in a fairly intensive Bible study called Surge with my husband and two other couples. The goal is to infuse the gospel into all of life and learn how to see it in every situation. I love the premise, but part of the deal is for six adults (with six children between us) to meet weekly. That takes a miracle in itself. When we can make it happen, the time is so sweet. The study is divided into quarters, and during the first quarter it felt as though our group got hit by a Mack truck. I could make a list, but think death, cancer, and more death and more cancer.

Our most recent reading was about how frustration and anger can many times be a sign of our lack of trust in the sovereignty of God. It brought up how sadness and grief fit into that picture. Can we be sad someone we love died, or because they are experiencing cancer or some other terrible thing? Or does sadness display a lack of trust?

As with so much in life, the answer is not an either/or but a both/and. I think the crux of the issue comes down to our belief about God. Do we believe he always does what is good, right, and perfect? Can we believe that even amid a trial? It’s definitely hard, but if we truly believe in the good, loving character of God down to the depths of our souls, then we must answer yes. I think we can be sad in grief, even devastated by a situation. But do we believe God got it wrong? Or do we trust in his goodness through our tears? I believe sin comes in when we decide we know better than God. If we truly trust his sovereignty, then we can grieve the trial but still trust that he’ll work all things for good.

I’m not saying sin and doubt aren’t natural or that I haven’t gone there. I have. I hope that, as believers, we come alongside one another in our doubt and sin, not to condemn but to lift up. To remind. To speak the truth and the life of the gospel to each other. As we discussed in our little group, sometimes our role is to come alongside our friends who are in the midst of a mess and just help them break plates. Sometimes it’s asking the Spirit to give us the words they need to hear—not platitudes, but God-breathed words that speak right to their souls. Sometimes it’s a prayer, where again the Spirit gives us the words that touch them in a new way to lift them up toward truth.

I’m only a few months into this journey with my mom, and already so many have come alongside me. It shows me God is carrying me, walking beside me in this mess. I believe he grieves with me. So even in my sadness and grief, I can be grateful. I’m grateful for the little moments and gifts he gives us with Mom. I’m grateful for the people I’ve reconnected with as I communicate status updates to her friends. I’m grateful for how my own friends have come alongside me and prayed. I’m grateful for the extra time I’ve had with my sister as we band together to walk this journey as a family unit. I’m grateful for my dad and for how well he loves my mom.

We can’t learn to fully depend on God if we’re not faced with situations where we need to do so. And I see his love for me even in this trial. That’s the beauty of this life, right? The learning with the struggle. The joy with the pain. The refining that comes with the fire.

Amy Wiebe is a Jesus follower, wife, mom of three, church planter, finance director, and lover of sarcasm and deep conversation with friends. She also loves camping, rafting, skiing, sewing, and having people over. Amy blogs with her husband at fringechurch.com.

Photograph © Jerry Kiesewetter, used with permission