by Danny Gokey
The challenge of life is not that we must endure pain; rather, it’s that we hang on long enough to get to the other side of our pain. It often hits us in a surprising turn of unexpected events and catches us off guard. And when we aren’t ready or prepared, it can push us so far away that we feel as if we can’t find our way back.
I never saw the darkness coming. It happened so fast that I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to make sense of any of it. I didn’t know what to do next.
There were no words that could comfort me in those days. I felt duped. I had prayed, I had been faithful, and I never lost hope that things would get better for Sophia. Now I was driving home to an empty apartment. I was faced with doing life on my own again.
I couldn’t find a reasonable explanation as to why the events played out like they did. Nothing seemed to make sense. I couldn’t deny that miracles existed. I couldn’t deny my faith. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to. Faith held on to me because I no longer had the strength or the will to hold on to it.
An Amputated Soul
When you lose someone you love, it’s like a part of you is missing. I started thinking this must be how someone feels when they lose a hand, foot, or other critical body part. I felt as though my soul had been amputated.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Not for Sophia. Not for me. Not in this way.
I felt so lost, wounded, and confused. I wanted to press “rewind” and start over. I wanted things to be different.
I wouldn’t have worked so much. I would have spent more time with her. I would have told her even more how much I loved her and how much she meant to me. These are the things I thought about over and over again when I no longer had the opportunity to do them. Why isn’t it just as easy to do these things when the people you love are right in front of you?
Once Sophia’s medical issues escalated, I had quit my trucking job to spend more time with her and manage the seemingly endless string of doctor’s appointments and hospital visits. And after Sophia passed away, I decided I couldn’t continue working at the church, either. I tried, but I couldn’t face leading worship anymore. I didn’t have the strength or the energy. My mind just wasn’t right. It was too painful to get up onstage and do everything I was doing. At this point, I had no paid position. What was I supposed to do now?
I was not in a good place. And to be honest, I was more than a little mad at God, who I felt had let this happen. Everything I knew to be true was now in question. I can’t say I ever stopped believing, but I was tired and exhausted. Belief and faith had left me disappointed and hurting, but I really didn’t have anything else to turn to. I didn’t know how to make sense of it all. No matter how much I wanted to in my weakest moments, I couldn’t deny my faith. It just wouldn’t let me go. What we know is true is still true even when it doesn’t feel like it is. It has to be. Otherwise, hope is just an empty promise that will never be fulfilled. And that is something I couldn’t even begin to wrestle through in the midst of all my pain.
Changing My Focus
I needed to get out of town. Everywhere I went, there were reminders of my life with Sophia and all we had shared. I went on a road trip that included places like Chicago, Baltimore, and Nashville. I needed to get away from it all.
I had never heard of Jeremy Camp before I saw him on TV a month before Sophia’s surgery and heard his story. Little did I know that I would face the same tragedy and be forced to handle it somehow. I couldn’t believe it. It was surreal.
Knowing my need for encouragement, Sophia’s sister’s husband in Nashville somehow contacted Jeremy, and he agreed to meet with me. I was blown away that he would even take the time to do that.
When we met, it felt like we already knew each other. It was as if Jeremy knew exactly how I felt and had been right where I was — because he had.
It was while he was processing his own wife’s death that Jeremy wrote the song “I Still Believe.” Yes, Jeremy knew exactly how I felt. He reminded me that my life was not over; it was beginning again. He told me how the experience of losing his wife changed his focus. Now he spent time helping other people process and deal with the loss of someone they loved, especially a spouse.
I didn’t know if that was possible, but I really wanted to believe it was. I was so grateful he took the time to meet with me. He didn’t have to, and I’m sure he was busy. But he sure did make me feel like I was important to him. At that moment, I felt as if there were a promise given to me — that my future would be formed out of my experiences with Sophia and what I had been through. It would be a ministry to help others in their brokenness. It was a faint, small, almost impossible thought, but I held on to it with all I had.
Keep Moving Forward
Despite holding on to that promise, I still didn’t know how to process this tragedy in light of my faith. I wanted to deny my faith, but I couldn’t. In a strange way, I felt that God was mad at me. I wondered if I had done something wrong.
This was a dark part of my life. I could feel myself slipping away. It tainted how I looked at everything around me, and I couldn’t muster excitement or joy about anything. I felt as though my mind and body were separated from one another. I was numb.
What had happened to me wasn’t fair. It couldn’t be explained. There was no way to reconcile recent events in my heart. Nothing added up.
While I never acted on it, there was a point when I thought it might be better to die than to go on. Although I would never do it, I can’t deny the fact that those thoughts went through my mind. I completely understand what that depth of pain feels like. Now when I talk to people who have considered or attempted suicide, I have an understanding of the pain they experienced that made them feel hopeless and alone.
Pain does not discriminate between race, class, or creed. I’ve met successful people and homeless people who have both experienced the desire to take their own lives. I’ve also heard their stories of how they fought back through the pain because they had a hope there was something better waiting for them ahead. Suicide is never the way to go. It assumes there is no hope. The truth is, hope is always just ahead, even though you can’t sense it at times.
Hope has to be real. If it’s not, then I couldn’t have found my way through the pain of losing Sophia. The paradox is that we must find something to believe in before life punches us in the gut and knocks the wind out of us. As tough as this period of my life was, it would have been much tougher had I not remained hopeful and clung to what I believed with every ounce of my being — and sometimes it clung to me when I was too weak to hold on any longer.
I learned that the power of my belief system could get me out of my darkest moments. Whether you realize it or not, the things you believe have power over you. Your life moves in the direction of what you believe.
The girl who has been told by her abusive boyfriend that no one will ever want her or love her has a choice. If she believes what she’s been told, she’ll keep coming back to that and likely stay in her current situation. But if she believes she is better than what she’s being told and has hope that a better life is possible even though she can’t see it yet, she can work toward a better future and find a better relationship where she will be completely loved and appreciated.
If you don’t believe you’ll get out of debt, you’ll stay in debt. The power of what we believe is a force that drives us one way or the other. You can grab on to depression and it will take you straight down, or you can grab on to something that is hopeful and move forward. The things we believe have power over us.
I heard a profound comment once that fear and faith have one thing in common: They both ask you to believe in something that hasn’t happened yet. You can either believe something good is coming or believe something bad is coming. Hope operates in the same way. It keeps us on the right track and looking forward to the days ahead in a positive way.
Everyone believes something, whether they acknowledge it or not, so you might as well believe good. Yo
ur mind is always thinking about something, whether it’s good or bad. You might as well fill it with good so you see better results. People believed for a long time that the earth was flat. And for years, there was a lot of this beautiful world they never saw because they believed something that wasn’t true. Until someone believed differently.
Don’t limit yourself. Know what you believe, and focus on good things, not the fear of the unknown. You can fear something will happen or you can hope something will happen. I’d rather focus on the hope so I can see positive results and look toward good things. My belief system offered the only safety net available to me when my world was crashing down right in front of me.
It was my faith that was strong when I was weak.
It was my conviction that carried me when I couldn’t walk.
It was my endurance that became my salvation.
It was focusing my eyes on the good and taking my eyes off the bad.
You may feel like you want to throw in the towel. You may think there is nothing left for you on this earth. You may have convinced yourself the pain will never ease, the heartache will never end, and the tears will never stop. Whatever you have faced, whatever trial, betrayal, disappointment, or loss, I can tell you with certainty — as someone who has been to hell and back — to keep moving forward. Keep looking and believing for a better day even if you can’t see it or feel it right now. If you do, you will find that your desperation will be transformed into something greater, your end will become a new beginning, and your despair will become a catalyst for personal growth and development.
Not the Only One
In a way, pain reminds us that we are still alive. The abundant life we’ve been promised doesn’t come filtered and separate from pain and suffering. It is part of what rounds out our existence.
We don’t go looking for it, yet it seems to find us.
We don’t ask for it, yet it comes uninvited.
We don’t chase it, yet it feels like it is in pursuit of us at times.
You have a choice to make. You can choose to see the world around you with promise and possibility, or you can choose to see limitations and obstacles. How you look at the world around you is what it will become. Your life will move in the direction of what you’re focused on. If your eyes focus on the bad things, your life will move in that direction. If your eyes are set on good or hopeful things, you will move in that direction.
It’s like driving. If you take your eyes off the road, you will eventually swerve off the road and go in a direction you didn’t want to go. When driving your car, you must be intentional to stay on the road if you want to get to your expected destination. The same thing applies in our lives. If you want a life of hope, your eyes must stay focused on that hope — no matter what distractions or difficulties are around you — in order to get there. How you move through life will determine the quality of your life and your ability to find satisfaction and fulfillment.
Hope is the vehicle that you get into that will drive you through your darkest moments.
I know the road ahead will be hard. This won’t be the last time I feel lost, alone, and confused. But I will remember that I made it through.
I’m not the only one. There are others who have endured similar — or even worse — pain. And they made it. This encourages me to think that what seems impossible is possible as long as I have faith and patience. Nothing has happened in your past and nothing will happen in your future that God won’t give you the grace to walk through.
If we never felt pain, we couldn’t fully understand joy.
If we never experienced grief, we couldn’t explain comfort.
If we never lost anything, we couldn’t know what it means to be found.
I believe life is intended to be an abundant one.
I believe faith is intended to be worked out in real time.
I believe hope is intended to be flowing constantly in my life and in yours.
Nothing made sense at this point in my life. I still felt empty. But I chose to believe that better things were ahead of me. My purpose in life was waiting for me in the shadows of my darkest moments. I was far from feeling put back together again, but I sensed I was headed in a new direction.
Chapter 6
Wrestling with Letting Go
Letting go of bitterness will keep you moving forward.
Children have an amazing way of letting go. It is almost effortless for them. If you ever have to intervene in a fight between two kids over a toy, you will observe a few things: Their emotions run high, there will likely be tears streaming down their faces, and their hearts will be heavy over what seems to them to be a really big deal.
Once they settle down and separate for a minute or two, all of that emotion disappears. They are likely to be smiling at each other again. The relationship is restored, and they are playing together as if nothing happened in the first place.
Children have yet to even realize how bitterness can be so destructive. Their memories are short. They are quick to forgive when they have been wronged and even quicker to let go when they have been hurt.
Come Together
Bitterness can rob us of everything. Sophia’s death was tragic and it wrecked me, but I couldn’t stay in that state forever. I had to let go of the sadness and depression so I could reach forward to what was in front of me.
The emotions from losing Sophia were overwhelming. I was exhausted from all the years of doctors’ visits and hospital stays and having to watch helplessly as she cried at night because she just wanted to have a normal life. She deserved more than that.
The doctors told me she had only a 10 percent chance of dying during this operation. We had tried everything to avoid the surgery, but it was inevitable. Our efforts exhausted our options financially, spiritually, physically, and medically. Nothing worked.
I was shocked from the sudden loss and left with nagging questions I would never be able to answer. Bitterness, anger, and resentment began to fill my mind and started to take root in my heart, which launched me into a deep depression.
Some might say that is normal. Maybe they are right. But what I felt was more than just sadness. It was a darkness that left me wandering without a sense of purpose, mission, or reason to go on.
I felt like I had to put on a face for everyone to cover what was really going on inside. Deep down, I felt my hope was fading.
Take it from someone who knows how hard life can be at times. So many lives have been torn apart because of tragedy. It can devastate you if you allow it to. As much as I wanted to hang on to the bitterness and resentment, I knew deep down it wasn’t going to solve anything. I had also read some research on how negative emotions such as bitterness and resentment could lead to other diseases and shorten my life.
I had to deal with this if I had any expectation of reclaiming a sense of normal in my life. If I had not dealt with this depression, it probably could have somehow taken me out. So I began to pray again. I desperately needed help. And this time, I sensed God was trying to get a message through to me. I started seeing a verse, Psalm 46:10, show up everywhere. I didn’t understand it at first, and I wondered why I kept seeing this verse wherever I went.
If I was ever going to move forward, I really needed something to come together for me, so I started studying Psalm 46:10. It says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” I found a note that in the original Hebrew context, this is the idea of letting go, but not in a simple, loosened-grip sort of way. Rather, it has the sense of a forced release from something that is pulling you downward. It’s a vigorous breaking of your grip using extreme force. Wow! I distinctly remember the image in my mind of hanging on to Sophia’s casket as she was being buried and my grip was so tight that I was being buried with her. I felt like I couldn’t let go. This is a natural response when we are in a situation we can’t control or make sense of.
The problem with hanging on for dear life is we won’t be able to find new life until we have released ourselves and
fallen into what’s next. The danger in this is we can’t control, predict, or understand what will happen next because when we are in this state, we don’t see things as they are. We see everything through a distorted, poisoned, and polluted lens. Our pain is defining us rather than us defining our pain.
But there is another option: We can let go. This was the answer that came to my mind as I read and reread this simple, short psalm. I knew what I had to do: I had to let go and do it with force.
More important, I had to be the one who made the decision. No one could do this for me. No amount of encouragement could have replaced the single action I had to take to find closure and begin the process of healing. I had to force myself to release all the toxic energy that had built up in my body so I could make room for the healing.
Part of the reason I had become so bitter was I wanted justice. I wanted answers. I wanted to know why, and I wanted to know what we could have done differently. It didn’t seem fair. Even the answer of letting go didn’t seem fair. I felt like I was stuck in a situation that was God’s fault and not mine. Sophia didn’t do anything to deserve this. I was hanging on so tightly to this you would’ve thought I expected to get answers that would satisfy and dampen my pain. You and I both know that never would have happened.
I knew, however, that if I didn’t let this go, I would forfeit any hope that might still be ahead of me. The cost of hanging on to the bitterness and anger was actually much greater than the cost of letting go. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s true. It’s not logical, but life is rarely rational. It’s not easy, but each step forward comes with both risk and reward. You can’t have one without the other.
