"The triumph can't be had without the struggle."
— Wilma Rudolph, polio survivor, Olympic sprinter
She was 11 years old. Young enough to be considered a child in many societies, but old enough to witness public executions in her own. At 11 years old, she had already watched her father die, her grandparents starve to death as well as numerous public executions for those who had defied the government. That sort of witness at such an age will change a person. And I doubt that as a child she understood that she would be a witness to such things at such a young age or why other children in other places did not have to be witness to atrocities that would mirror the horrors of war. And I doubt she knew that at 11 years old, she was about to begin the journey of a thousand miles.
I don't believe that God is unaffected by our struggle. In spite of how we reach a time and place that produces hardship within us, regardless of the circumstances that brought us to this place, God is not unaffected. Whether we had a hand in our own struggle or not, I don't believe God is unmoved or unhurt , even if He seems silent. I do believe however, that even if God does not orchestrate the trials in our life - He will not waste what has happened to us.
I have often said, "God, I need to see around the corner in my life. Tell me, show me, where I'm going." And most often, He does not indulge my impatience or lack of trust. In actuality, He says, "Buckle up, Love. I didn't ask you to lead or to drive. Right now, you do not know the way. If I let you go alone, you will get lost."
I often want to know the route, the speed, the direction, the destination, and the stops along the way. But I also know that if God showed me every hurdle, detour, delay, obstacle or challenge then I might not agree to go. If I knew what this journey up ahead would require of me, what grit and determination it would take to power through, how often I would want to sit down and give up, how high the climb would be, and how much overcoming it would take for me to continue this arduous journey, I might not have the courage or the strength to go.
And if I didn't agree to go, I would not live out my destiny.
At 11 years old, Eunsun Kim wrote her last will and testament. Her mother had been gone for several days in search of food. And Eunsun lay quietly on the one remaining mattress in the barren apartment. Most of the other furniture had been sold for food, and electricity had been shut off long ago. Food had run out days before. And only tap water remained in the tiny, dark apartment. So little Eunsun curled onto the dirty, vacant mattress alone. And then she counted to ten. That was her deadline. "When I reach ten and mother has not returned, I will get up and leave to search for food." So she counted to ten, and then she counted backward to one. Each time her internal deadline came she considered getting up to leave. But she didn't. Instead, she started over. Again and again, as she waited not only for food, but for the mother that seemed to be gone for good. And each time she counted to ten and her mother had not returned she would tell herself yet again that she would get up and leave. And finally, before she could take the impossible action of leaving her home, the persistent counting turned to sleep.
Eunsun lived in one of the most oppressive and controlled places in the world, in the city of Eundeok, North Korea in the north edges of the socialist democracy and authoritarian leadership that had now restricted food to its citizens. Her grandparents had recently starved to death, and her father had died weeks earlier. As she lay in the dark to write her final words, her remaining family was living, and dying, through the Great Famine under the fatal totalitarian regime. But during the night, and hours after her writing was finished, her mother finally arrived back to the dismal apartment, only to sink to the floor in despair as she waited to die.
This was the end for them.
Except, it wasn't the end. And the family of three would not die here.
Because when Eunsun's mother awoke the next morning, she had a plan to escape.
This, was just the beginning.
God tells us that He will use us in the area of our struggle. We would love for God to use us in our areas of strength, the areas where we excel and have confidence in our skills, ability and experience. But most often, God doesn't choose that. The world will. The world wants our experience, our expertise, our talent. But God often says, "I'll take the underdog in you. I'll take your weakness and give it a purpose. Watch me take the things you struggle with and turn them into something great. Trust me to do that. EXPECT me to do that." And this is where I falter. I falter with the trust, the struggles, the heartbreaks, the hardships, the wounds because I don't always see the way forward. I struggle in the trust that God will redeem my hurts because, they hurt. My brain knows otherwise, but my heart feels like the child that needs to be picked up and soothed. And it can be so hard to remember that my purpose, my victory, my destiny lies on the other side of the thing I'm struggling through. And what it takes to battle through it will actually carry me into the promise God has for me.
Science tells us that struggle itself is a necessary element for growth. When we engage in a productive struggle, our brains create and strengthen neural pathways. As the neural pathways are created, gliel cells go to work creating a usable pathway, very similar to loggers clearing out trees for a new road. Once that pathway is cleared, myelin is produced, which is the equivalent of laying down pavement. The brain is working full speed to learn and create this neural pathway. And as we work our way through whatever it is we are struggling with, that pathway becomes clear and open. And it not only opens a path, it eventually creates a superhighway that we can use to travel to the next place. This is the result of productive struggle.
But what is unproductive struggle? In a learning environment, "Struggle becomes unproductive when we make no sense of a problem or no progress toward the goal (Warshauer, 2011). Unproductive struggle can cause both teachers and students to want to throw up their hands, asking “What did we just do?,” or worse yet, “Why did we just do that?” But beyond being frustrating, unproductive struggle also has the potential to be downright damaging. When we consistently struggle and produce nothing, we get the message that learning is not possible, we are inadequate, and we may even begin to question our own personal worthiness." It could also be described as the process in which the gliel cells do not understand which direction they're working, or what the goal is. But let's look at this from a larger perspective without the learning aspect.
Often we are in a situation that produces a struggle that is much bigger than us. It is not a learning environment, nor was it intended to be. It simply existed. Perhaps it is the struggle to get through grief of loss of a loved one. Maybe it is the healing process after a terrible illness or accident. Maybe it is the battle of the mind and the war "within". Often we are halted in our progress because that journey is too hard, too far, too lost, or the pathway forward is too messy, complex and steep. Maybe we even wondered what the point was in continuing. And since God doesn't always show us what is around the corner, it is easy to give up.
There is a phrase I have heard my entire life, "God won't give you more than you can handle." But I find this is not accurate. And often when people use this phrase to reassure others that they can and will conquer whatever challenge lies before us - it comes across as patronizing. When I have heard this phrase myself it does not reassure me that I can handle whatever it is before me, it simply tells me that I cannot rely on that person for support because they're telling me I can do it alone. I believe that there will be things in your life that are much more than you can handle. And I believe that God will either give you the way out, or He will give you that of Himself so that you may endure onto conquest. So often we are faced with struggles that we have no resources to endure. It is during those times that I have had to sit in the silence with myself, my grief, my questions, or heartache and draw on God's strength, and God's patience because I simply had no more in my reserves. I have asked Him on more than several occasions "God, I am empty. I am depleted. I don't feel the hope, the future, the joy, the peace, or the motivation to take another step. God, I need you to restore what is required to keep going, because my reserves are empty. I am empty. And if I am to carry on, then it must be YOU. I simply don't have it in me anymore." Time after time God heard, acknowledged, and answered the cries and the wounds in my empty heart. And without fail, time after time, He has filled my cup with more than enough to carry on.
When I ask God to show me the future, to allow me to see around that corner - and He doesn't deliver on that, He isn't failing me. He is allowing me to explore the mystery of trust. For it is only in this uncertainty that my trust is built. It is a place where I must cling to Him even closer and I must trust that He is the driver and I am not. Not only is He the driver, He is the Light so that I can see the way, He is the Refuge when I am tired, He is the supply when I am empty, He is the Hope so that I can carry on.
Eunsun Kim endured 9 years of captivity, from the socialist regime of her homeland, to the hands of human traffickers, and again to drug smugglers. From outside her city in North Korea, Eunsun could see the Chinese border, on the opposite shore of the Tumen River. Freedom was just across the river, in a sense. Except that Chinese citizens were ordered to report North Korean defectors so they could be deported, and consequently - punished. Freedom was right there, almost within a stone's throw.
If you told Eunsun that her journey to freedom would not simply be "across the river" but rather a year of attempts in the frigid and frozen water before she could cross the river, through the border, under threat of gunfire, through the hands of the traffickers, the smugglers, into slavery, back across the Tumen River, and back into North Korea, in and out of jail, and still starving before reaching freedom 1,000 miles and nine years later, do you think Eunsun and her family would've even attempted the escape? I don't, or maybe I don't know. But I do believe that the only reason they made that incredible journey, through the trenches of poverty, famine, and abuse, is because the God she didn't even know sustained her. And once she was delivered, she wasn't just delivered out of the hands of hardship, but into the hands of freedom, prosperity, and a future where she became a college graduate and an author. Not only did her freedom come on the other side of the danger, the fear, and the struggle - but that struggle led her directly into her destiny and purpose.
I too, have given God a deadline - or maybe it was a deadline for myself. I have often given myself a deadline of a week, a month, 6 months, to reach a place where I thought I was supposed to be. And that deadline came and went and I didn't feel one step closer. And like a small, 11 year old child, I knew I didn't really want to act on that internal deadline that I had created for myself. I wanted God to move, to act, and show me something to keep me going. Simply put, my deadline is most often not God's deadline. His timing and design are never the same as mine. And oftentimes His silence is not silent at all. Just because I don't see the results does not mean that God isn't busy clearing the trees and creating a highway for me. Because He is. And God is not in the business of failing us. Ever.
I don't want the struggle - in fact, I never do. But if I want more and I want the promises and destiny that God has laid out - I will have to work through it to get there. And I will not understand the true value of what God has for me if He simply laid it at my feet and gave it to me, or if He simply kept me from or delivered me from any hardship. It does not matter where I am, or how I got here, whether this was God's plan or my own that led me here.
If I want that promise then I have to be all in - no looking back, no defeat, no deadlines, no holding onto the trust I need to give, not trying to lead or drive. I have to be all in - even if it means 9 years, and one thousand miles. And I know that God will not waste one mile of that journey, no matter the distance.
What God promises me rests in the valley on top of the mountain. And I know, it is worth the struggle to reach it.
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