There have been many moments in my life in which I have truly felt as if I do not have a purpose; that I am more a burden to the earth than a blessing; a feeling that my shortcomings far outweigh any contribution I could possibly make to the world.

I’m not sharing this with you for shock-value or in search of sympathy; but rather, out of a dedication to pure, transparent honesty.  I’m here to tell you the truth: I have felt less than purposeful more often than I’ve felt necessary.  As I free these words from the confines of my heart and allow them to be physically manifested for all to see, I realize that devaluing oneself can be just as off-putting, and devastating, as being a self-absorbed jerk.  Forgive me for that for a moment.  Bear with me and let’s dive a little deeper into this vulnerable topic.

Feeling an overwhelming sense of inadequacy is painful and often leaves me disoriented and sore, like I’ve just washed up on a rocky, unfamiliar beach, only to find myself alone, with a mouth full of salt-water and only desolation in sight.  Most of the time, however, if I quiet my mind, I can hear a faint chorus of “You are enough…  You do belong…  You have a purpose…” like a life-boat, emerging on the horizon; and the rocks melt into cool grass and the palm trees turn into people and I’m no longer stranded on and island that I discovered by accident.

More often than I’d like to admit, I find myself washed up on that rocky beach, unaware of exactly how I ended up there.  Sadly, although I frantically search for hope, sometimes the rocks don’t melt right away, sharpening underneath me instead.  The palm trees don’t turn back into people, remaining just trees – exotic, but lonely.  The island becomes undeniably familiar and continuous thunderous rainstorms prove scanning the  horizon for life-boats a difficult task.  In times like these, I crawl inside myself – a make-shift shelter of earthy things; and then it’s dark . . . and one question echos in my mind . . .

Does this pain have a purpose?

“Suicidal thoughts don’t come from God” I typed into the search bar, an attempt at conviction or maybe a desperate search for validation.  I’m no stranger to the late night expertise of Google searches.  I know that web-searching your symptoms, whether you’re sick in the body, or the heart, is risky business, especially for a natural-born worrier like me.  Searching spiritual declarations might not be much better, but when you’re awake and alone at 3:00am, it’s easy to make poor choices.

As I read through article after article, my heart settled softly into my chest and I was relieved.  Many other people felt the same way I did and many other people found Christ in the midst of their suffering.  People who felt as if they had no purpose, found their purpose in the truth of His words and His plan for their lives.  If there was hope on the horizon for them, then surely, the life-boat would come my way, too.

In this earthly life, we’re never promised a lifetime free of pain.  No matter the time, location, family or social class we’re born into, we will all experience pain in some form or another, at some point in our lives.  Our pain may be relatively mild or relatively deep, compared to the suffering of others.  Some of us are fortunate enough to experience far less suffering than our neighbor or fellow humans, while some of us might feel like we’ve hit a jackpot of pain, unaware that we even bought a ticket.  To be human is to experience pain and none of us are immune from that reality.  But what is the purpose of this common human experience?

The more I reflect on my own pains, ones of loss, grief, regret, fear, stress and uncertainty, the clearer it becomes that God is willing, and always ready, to meet us in our suffering.  Whether it be the sting of the words of an unkind person, or the burning of regret for something I’ve done, the Lord always finds His way to the rocky island on which I find myself.  The most beautiful conversations have been had on those rocks, underneath those lonely palm trees.  Conversations that bring the light back in and chase the thunderous rain away; honest prayers of pain, met with overwhelming clarity and grace.

One thing you, the reader, need to know about me is that I feel strongly and deeply.  From joy to sadness, excitement to fear, my emotions are vibrant and loud.   I once detested my emotional nature, even feeling embarrassed or weird for feeling with such potency.  As I’ve grown into adulthood, however, I’ve grown to appreciate the way God stitched me together, emotional threads woven into every inch of the fabric of my being.  My sensitivity is a gift, a beautiful blessing from the One who breathed me into existence.

My life has changed quite a bit over the past year.  I have transformed from a girl, afraid to truly be herself around most people, fearful of genuine vulnerability, a person who could feign perfect positivity, even when I felt anything but positive, into a woman, authentically and unapologetically existing, exactly as I was intended to be.  Through this transformation, I’ve realized that it’s okay to feel pain and it’s okay to talk about it.  It’s okay to feel unhappy and it’s okay to talk about it.  It’s okay to feel worried, anxious, angry, disappointed, hurt, and it’s okay, and utterly necessary, to talk about it!  Once a tangled mess of genuine emotion stuffed into a pretty little perfect box, I’ve broken free and I’m learning to untangle the negative emotions I hoarded inside for so long.  It’s been painful, but stunningly beautiful and oddly comforting.

I often say, I believe my heart is like a puzzle, and throughout my life, in seemingly unexpected places, I find the missing pieces that take me one-step closer to being whole.  No wonder God is kind and gentle when he meets me in my pain, for he knows that someone is waiting just out of view, with the piece for which I’m asking,  as I sit with Him on my rocky island.

If the missing pieces of my heart look more like people than palm trees, and their arrival in my life occurs in truly perfect time, does that not mean that the pain I felt as our paths grew closer was purposeful in and of itself?  In a less selfish way, does not the pain I’ve felt allow me to be a life-boat for others?  From my view, the pain of this life allows us each to drawer nearer to God, and nearer to each other, joining in a dance of unified commonality, learning and growing as we relate to the sorrows each of us endures.  While not every pain of this life will have a clear purpose evident to us in this lifetime, our experiences, even the painful ones, are part of an intricate story, understood only in retrospect, requiring a heavenly view for full understanding. What a beautiful reassurance.

Although I’ve felt blinded by the darkness of pain more times than I can count, I fear not, for I know the Lord is using each valley and peak of my life as a beacon of hope for someone else, someone sitting on a rocky island at this very moment.  Don’t worry, whoever you may be, I’m working hard to embrace the journey; and I promise to keep my eyes open and eagerly hand you your missing puzzle piece when we meet.

” Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and God of all encouragement, who encourages us in our every affliction, so that we may be able to encourage those who are in any affliction with the encouragement with which we ourselves are encouraged by God. For as Christ’s sufferings overflow to us, so through Christ does our encouragement also overflow.”  – 2 Corinthians 1:3-5