A Seen Pain: Common Ground at the Cross
Trigger Warning: The following article contains a candid description of miscarriage and may be difficult for some mothers to read, so please consider your own personal threshold. We also encourage you to check out our Suffering & Loss page for more resources if you or someone you love are walking through the grief of miscarriage.
By the time I was pregnant with my ninth child, I had a very serious appreciation of pedicures. They are magical, mainly because it becomes almost impossible to reach your toes as you get rounder. However, at this particular pedicure, my appreciation represented something much more. I was celebrating a significant milestone. I had reached fifteen weeks. Although I have been pregnant many times, I have three children who call me “Mama” here on earth, and six children who were made for heaven. The majority of those painful losses happened right around fifteen weeks. Therefore, this milestone was significant.
So there I was, breathing in the lovely fumes of the nail salon, utilizing the massage chair to its maximum capacity, and thoroughly enjoying being pampered. When my pedicure ended, I had to go pee (like all pregnant women do) for the twentieth time that day. I carefully got out of my chair as the lady helped me slip on my sandals, and I waddled to the bathroom at the back of the salon. I felt a small gush of fluid as I was walking but was relieved when I got to the bathroom and saw that it wasn’t blood. However, something still felt strange. As I sat down on the toilet, without knowing why, I reached down just in time to catch my baby boy as he fell lifeless into my hand. I was in complete shock. Not because of what I was seeing, for I had seen this before, but because there was no warning. No bleeding. No cramping. No ultrasound with stillness where there should have been a flutter. Nothing. I had reached fifteen weeks; I was supposed to be in the clear. And here I was, holding my tiny baby in the palm of my hand, in the bathroom stall of a nail salon.
There are few things in life that make us feel more alone than our pain. In our moments of suffering, we think no one will ever understand what we’re going through. It is just us and this immeasurable weight of grief that feels unbearable. Yet while each individual’s experiences are unique and subjective, pain is universal.
We all experience pain, yet ironically, we all feel alone.
The pain I felt in that moment at the nail salon, and in the awful aftermath, you will never fully understand. And the pain you have undoubtedly felt in the course of your life, I will never fully understand. But God’s reconciliatory work, through the suffering and loss of his own Son at Calvary, gives us common ground to stand on in our pain.[1]
Jesus offers us a reference point, for no one has ever, or will ever, suffer as he did.
Jesus offers us a reference point, because he not only understands, but he has experienced every kind and level of pain that exists on this earth.
Jesus offers us a reference point, because, although I might not know your pain, I know Christ, and he knows your pain intimately.
Our Savior sees us in our pain, not from an outsider’s perspective, but as One who has lived it himself. He too wept at death and felt its anguish. When he hung on the cross to pay for all the past, present, and future sins of humanity, Jesus experienced the fullness of pain connected to those sins. For sin is the source of all the pain that devastates this broken world. Therefore, at the foot of the cross, we discover that we are not alone in our pain. We are the opposite of alone. We are united with Christ.
In the midst of our pain, we are often surprised and confused by the fact that God would allow us to experience what we’re going through. However, as we look at Scripture, we are repeatedly told that as long as we draw breath here on earth, we will experience suffering. It is promised to us.[2] But with our whole being fixed on Christ, we can trust that the pain we experience—as crushing as it can be—ultimately pales in comparison to knowing him. As Paul says in Philippians 3:8, “Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things . . . in order that I may gain Christ.” Our pain, our loss, leads us to Christ—the tender Shepherd who weeps alongside us at the sting of death and gently comforts our broken hearts. He is our greatest gain—and no amount of sorrow can ever take that away.
So when we find ourselves in the so-called “nail-salon-bathroom-stall” of life, we can weep. We can lament. We can share our suffering with others. We can walk through grief in all its messy layers. And with that, we can start to shift our perspective from one of loneliness and despair to one of intimacy with Jesus and strength to face tomorrow. For when our eyes are steady on the cross, we can rest in the assurance of victory.[3] When our hearts are broken over our bleeding Christ, our suffering draws us into his arms. When our minds are filled with thoughts of his sacrifice, we are no longer alone in our pain.
We have a seen pain, a known pain, a shared pain.
The common ground we find at the cross soothes the sting of pain, dethrones the power of pain, and defies the loneliness of pain. May we find true healing from our wounds, perfect grace to face the day, and unwavering hope for what lies ahead, as we share this common ground.
[1] 1 Peter 2:21
[2] John 16:33; Philippians 1:29
[3] Romans 6:8-9
