Growing through Suffering

Lately I’ve been doing a personal Bible study on suffering. I kinda stumbled into it after rereading The Five Silent Years of Corrie ten Boom, by Pamela Rosewell (first published in 1986). It’s a thought-provoking and faith-building account of the last five years of one of my all-time faith heroes, Corrie ten Boom, as she was silenced by a series of strokes that took her voice, her mobility, and eventually her life at age 91. Pamela was the personal companion of Tante Corrie (the affectionate name those in her inner circle called her; I believe it means “Aunt Corrie”) and the insights she shares in this biography/memoir of the unlimited joy and inexhaustible faith exhibited by Corrie ten Boom during her final days on earth are extraordinary.

You are probably aware of the suffering Corrie had experienced as a prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp for hiding Jews during WWII. She lost her father and beloved sister Betsy at the hands of a cruel and heartless political regime. Corrie was released due to a “clerical error” (read: miracle!) a week before all the women of her age were executed in the gas chamber. This part of Corrie’s story is well documented in her book, The Hiding Place, and in the dozen or so other books and films Corrie spent the next 35 years of her life traveling all over the world to share the good news that the Bible is true and we cannot be separated from God’s love even in the worst of circumstances.

Yes, through her suffering, this little Dutchwoman led thousands of people to the Lord. Her joy was inexhaustible.

Although I had read Corrie’s own books, I was unaware of The Silent Years until a decade or so ago (likely because it was written by someone besides Corrie). Have you heard of it? I highly recommend it. I’ve reread it numerous times since and every single time, I come away with a renewed sense of reverence and awe of the mysterious ways of the Lord.

During this recent reread, I noticed a passage of scripture related to suffering that hadn’t caught my attention before. It’s found in the fourth chapter of Ezekiel, as Yahweh is using symbols to prophesy the exile of His people (the Jews) from Jerusalem. Yahweh instructs Ezekiel to lie only on his left side for 390 days, the number “corresponding with the years of their iniquity” (Ezekiel 4:4 NASB) and further states that He will “put ropes on you so that you cannot turn  from one side to the other until you have completed the days of your siege” (Ez. 4:8 NASB).

Then after the 390 days, Ezekiel is to lie only on his right side for forty days, “a day for each year” Judah had sinned against God (Ez. 4:6 NASB).

Whoa. Can you imagine being tied down in a single position every night for nearly a year and a half? That would drive me crazy. I can partially relate because I’ve been stuck in one sleeping position during my knee surgery recovery for the past year. Any turning right or left from the single (sometimes) pain-free position of my knee, and I have indeed bugged out more than once. If a body can’t move, parts of it suffer.

I’ve no doubt Ezekiel (a prophet whom God loved and used mightily) got the message loud and clear. Through suffering.

Pause a moment and think about that: Ezekiel suffered, not to be punished, but because suffering was part of Yahweh’s will for his life. The only way to grow and learn the lessons Papa God needed him to know in order to carry out his earth assignment. 

In The Silent Years, Pamela compares the suffering Ezekiel went through with the positioning forced on Corrie as, in addition to the ability to speak, she lost all function and feeling in her right side during her three major strokes and had to be manually turned by others onto her right side or her left side all day and night 24/7 to prevent bed sores. She was once again a prisoner, but this time in her own body.

Yet she accepted her condition willingly and never stopped praying and worshiping her heavenly Father in her own silent way. Their relationship was private. A club of two. Yet according to Pamela, everyone who visited Corrie during those bedridden years (and there were many), attested that God’s love was visible and undeniable, shining through Corrie’s eyes.

Before she lost her ability to speak, Corrie’s nightly prayer – which has become my own – was “Father, will You keep me so close to Your heart that even my dreams are peaceful, and that I see things more and more from Your point of view?”

Amen and amen.

Dearest BFF (Blessed Friend Forever) – how has the Lord used suffering in your life to draw you closer to Him?