Hey God! The Lemonade stand blew up!

(When life gives you lemons...and they stay lemons. Navigating unchosen suffering)

I'm finding there's lots out there about pre-suffering, what life was like before _______ (insert yours here). And then there's counseling and therapy options for post traumatic events, post suffering.

Suffering is an active, present tense verb, an action currently in process.

This seems to be an area we, as humans, tend to un-notice.

I found a term that resonated deeply with me-unchosen suffering.

Things that happen TO us, different than self-inflicted suffering. I'm not comparing one as worse than the other.

But there is an element of unpreparedness, unfairness to the first.

To put a picture to it, it's like the Devil himself directly opened up a hole where you're camping, and you can't leave your campsite, put a pissed off grizzly bear right in the middle of your campsite.

And stays there.

Day after day.

Terrorizing, shredding, destroying, attacking anyone and everything in its path.

And what you thought was the finally the peaceful part of your journey literally turned into a nightmare straight out of hell.

That unexpected grizzly attacked my son at 7 years old and we're not sure of the outcome.

Learning to ward off a bear while in training is one thing. You only are allowed to get hurt to a certain point then the simulation turns off.

But I don't think anyone is prepared to stare a pissed off grizzly in the face.

And although we cry, 'Unfair! Why, God?' 'How could this happen?', the reality is that bear attacks happen in the world we live in.

Life happens.

Whether we think we deserve it or not is irrelevant.

The rain falls on the just and unjust alike - Solomon.

Unchosen suffering happens. Everyday. All. The. Time.

The we ask more questions. 'Could I have done anything differently?'

I think that's like asking tornadoes not to exist anymore.

Impossible.

That's simply the world we live in. Sometimes the tornado hits us and sometimes it doesn't.

Grizzly bears, tornadoes, raining lemons with no lemonade stand.

We accept these as a real part of life.

Unchosen suffering is a real part of life.

Unexpected, pure hell on earth.

Lemon after lemon after lemon juice floods. And the lemons stay lemons. The lemonade stand blew up.

But....the grizzly bear attack isn't unexpected to the One who created the bear, the tornadoes.

Did he send the bear to you? The tornado? I don't believe so. I don't believe He gave my son cancer.

Unchosen suffering happens.

But...there's hope. Man, there's hope. Overflowing, life-sustaining, soul renewing hope.

Hope that's only experienced when the grizzly attacks, in the midst of the attack.

Now please understand, I'm 5 months in an endless grizzly attack with no end in sight.

So I've had some time to process, AND LET GOD IN.

That took a little while for sure.

He never rushed me. When there weren't words in the beginning, He gave me this picture, over and over: Jesus sitting in an Adirondack chair on the beach at night, sitting by a fire, with an empty chair right next to him.

And He looks at me, inviting me to sit, without saying anything at all.

Sometimes I sit. Sometimes I just see Him, with His hand out, waiting for me to reach out.

And eventually I did. And we've sat. For months. Not saying anything.

And most of the time, He doesn't say anything when I sit.

But He speaks. Very audibly, when I read the Bible.

Game Changer. Hands down.

Those words suddenly make sense now. In the midst of a screaming chaotic grizzly bear active attack, His voice has never been clearer, His Spirit here on earth never more real.

Elizabeth Elliot, a legend in those hell chose for unchosen suffering, wrote notes about suffering, that it's never for nothing. There are too many gems to write about, but the take away is diamonds. Diamonds are formed under the most intense pressure of all gems. Constant, enduring pressure.

So where was God like this in my last twenty years of nursing, death, accidents, detox, alcoholism, my psych hold for suicide?

I don't know, maybe I wasn't desperate enough.

Or I had enough distractions that when I would really get into the hard questions of faith, of the why, I'd shut off, get a drink, go shopping, something that provided an instant feel good rather than wrestle through the deep.

Doesn't mean He wasn't there, hoping I'd reach out and simply take His hand.

See, that's the thing when you have nothing else, no distractions, no Amazon, no more money to shop, and when the Grizzly attacks just keep coming.

And coming.

And the tornado doesn't stop, and you're helpless.

There's only Jesus.

(I can hear the eye rolls from here, feel the walls going up around you. No judgement, I get it).

'I need God to show up! In person!' We cry out.

Well, He did.

He has done nothing but grand gestures of showing up since the beginning.

He gave us a perfect place, literally perfect. And we, as human beings, said not good enough.

He parted Red Seas, performed miracles, gave us only 10 rules to follow. And we, as human beings, couldn't do it. That's too hard, we'll make up our own, that's not the grand gesture we wanted.

He gave us over 600 specific rules to follow in order to be with Him, all the clear outlines and boundaries in the world! And we, as human beings, turned that into money making schemes, and to use it for power.

He was the King, the PERFECT King in an imperfect world, and we, as human beings said, nope, we want a king in person. So He gave that, and the kings chosen slaughtered people, created wars, hungry for more power.

He gave us prophets, DIRECT LINES OF COMMUNICATION TO GOD HIMSELF, and we, as human beings, didn't like what he had to say. And stopped listening.

So, He finally came Himself. We, as human beings, wrote about it, prophesied about it, in specific detail how it would be. And He didn't come in the form, in the showing, we, as human beings wanted.

And He let us kill him.

He let us.

And still loved us.

Until His dying breath on the cross, He never refused anybody that chose Him.

And to prove His love when it was time to go, He left us Himself, in a form invisible to those who refuse to find Him, look for Him, choose Him. But undeniable none the less.

There are more writings on the person of Jesus Christ in the first century than any other history figure known to man.

That's truth. Not my truth. THE truth.

And now, in His, mercy, in the midst of the grueling, daily grizzly attacks, He is here.

Sitting in an Adirondack chair, lovingly silent knowing nothing anyone can say will help, holding out His hand, an invitation to take and sit with Him on the beach, and listen to the waves, and be with Him.

Am I always sitting with Him? I wish I could say yes.

But I'm human.

Some days I say I can't do this.

I'm exhausted, spent, over it. I feel my brain melting out of my ears.

That's usually when I realize I've been fighting the bear attack on my own.

A powerful, otherworld force in my finite-ness, my limited strength.

So I go sit, back in the chair, and take His hand, letting His hope, His restoration, His endless strength renew me. Not just to make me strong for me, but to rise and fight the bear, ware the tornado, ride the lemon juice flood for my family, so others can see what HE is capable of.

Do I want lemons? No. Not another single one.

But I can't deny that in this never-ending lemon rain, lemon juice flood, and no lemonade stand for a silver lining, He is present like never before.

There is hope now like never before. EVER.

There is strength like never before. EVER.

There is peace like never before. EVER.

Lemonade stands blow up. And you're left with just lemons.

With no end to the lemons in sight.

But He is still here, on the beach, sitting with me, and He is sufficient for me.

Where has He been waiting for you?