I have walked through intense pain. I know what it’s like to spend nights screaming and crying and praying that God will take away my pain. I know what it’s like to watch my dreams burn, standing knee-deep in heartache and saying along with Job, “Though he slay me, yet I will hope in him…” (Job 13:15).
I’m still standing in the heartache. In my story, it is the word infertility that defines my pain. But it doesn’t really matter what the word is. Pain is pain. It alters life. And most of all it deepens songs.
In the book of Psalms we get a glimpse into the song of a man named David. Some parts are light and happy and full of praise. But what is the best known Psalm? Twenty-three. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.
In pain our songs get deeper. They go from a simple plucked out melody line into a full orchestra. And no matter what part you sing—be it soprano, alto, tenor, bass—you’ll hear notes that you connect with.
We must not fear the deepening.
I want my life to be a song that people hear and understand. The main stanza of the song says, “Jesus Christ is the way, the truth and the life.” God allows the pain to deepen the song to turn my life into something people can comprehend.
I’m learning to be okay with that.
I serve a God who does not fear pain; a God who created a world knowing it would hurt Him; a God who doesn’t stop heartache but will never leave me nor forsake me in it.
My song can become breathtakingly beautiful— spilling out of the concert halls into the darkest corners of the world.
In not being able to have children I may get the chance to share Jesus Christ in a way someone understands and help them become a child of God.
If the heart of my song is truly Jesus, then is this not the ultimate use of my life? To lead others to Him?
Oh, God, let the pain deepen me. Let my life be a song that others understand. Let every part of me echo the name of Jesus. And help me share it. There is no point in deepening if I do not open my mouth and sing.
~ By Natasha S. Metzler
