10,000 ReasonsMuestra

Fruitful in the Land of Suffering

For most of us, our own stories may not seem quite as dramatic or intense as those belonging to a man like Horatio Spafford (the man who penned “It Is Well with My Soul”). But we all have scars. I used to think of a scar as an ugly thing, something to cover up and be a little embarrassed of. The more I think about it, however, our scars are often the very things that make the story of Christ’s work in our lives so real and relatable. They’re also a deep reminder to us, the storytellers, of just how far we’ve come and the obstacles of pain, stress, or failure that we have overcome in Jesus. Scars are not just a record of our wounds. They are a display of our healing.

Our scars are signs of God’s grace in our lives—signs that we’ve been through something and that we have made it to the other side. They remind us that we are not where we once were and that God has brought about a victory in our lives. Our wounds may have been deep and the night may have been dark, but the promise of God’s love has been tested and proved in our lives. When we look back, yes, we see pain, but more than anything we see provision and protection, and even the ways God has made us fruitful in the land of our suffering.

That phrase is straight out of the story of Joseph. It’s a dramatic narrative with many deep valleys and many high mountain places. It would have been easy for Joseph to feel bitter about all he’d endured—the beating by his brothers, the false accusations, and the unjust imprisonment. But seeing the fullness of all God had purposed for his life, and the position of favor he’d been entrusted with, Joseph looked back and saw nothing but grace. He named his second son Ephraim because it means “God has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering” (Gen. 41:52).

Thousands of years later, so many of us can see that same dynamic at work in our own lives. We see the kind wisdom and miraculous provision of God in our stories, somehow bringing good from the soil of our suffering. As C. S. Lewis observed, seeds often grow in dark places.

Not every trial or tragedy has a silver lining, and I know that even in my own journey there are things I don’t think I’ll ever really be able to make sense of this side of heaven. Yet perhaps we don’t have to. To borrow from another Joseph phrase: in some moments we are fully aware that what the enemy meant for harm, God has meant for good.

But in the moments when we cannot see evidence of His hand, we have to trust His heart and know that He has not left us, that He is closer and more involved than we can begin to know. We have to learn to sing along with Spafford and his remarkable hymn—it is well with my soul.