I look around and see the entire class in tears. It is mournfully silent and the only movement is from hands slowly brushing tear-streaked cheeks. Empathy has settled over everyone like a fog, and hearts are wrenched. My team is stunned and crying as well, and you can see the earnest prayers in everyone’s eyes that whatever they say will be from God.
It was our first day teaching at the High School and we had prepared a lesson on self-esteem and the power of words of affirmation; emphasizing that while we need to speak life into ourselves and others, our true value and identity rests in God. After having already taught four classes it was nearing the end of the day, and while it had gone well so far, nothing could prepare us for our 2 periods after lunch. The first period was a group of 12th graders. They listened intently to our presentation and were involved from the start. You could feel the energy and attention in the room and it encouraged us as we ended with discussion and the opportunity to ask questions. I was instantly impressed, there was no awkward waiting while people hesitated with downcast eyes. Instantly question after question was brought up, good ones too, and while I wish I could list them off and give credit where it is due, I can only remember the question that started it all: Why does God allow pain?
You could almost hear each of my teammates take a gulp as we questioned how to approach it. Humbly, we were just a group of 20-32 year olds without the answer, and I think it would have been easier for us to respond if we had been asked about the meaning of life. But we jumped in, rather well I thought, with examples of Biblical suffering and how God transformed and used it to His glory, and tried to explain how God can use it to draw us nearer to Him as He suffers a broken heart with us.
We were so thrilled that we could go deeper; after all, this is what we really wanted- for the kids to be genuinely interested and invested. So you can imagine how much our hearts soared when they asked us to follow them to their next class period so we could continue talking with them. Not only did they seem to enjoy what we were teaching about God’s love, but they wanted more! Little did we know that our excitement would so quickly turn to tears.
Melissa, the girl that had first asked the question, was obviously not satisfied with our answers and Bible verses, and she kept probing. But as she kept asking the question over and over again, she rephrased it, adding more details and descriptive examples. The question and the environment quickly became more dramatized as she elaborated that sometimes it felt like God was dipping her heart into a pot of hot oil, searing it with pain that felt like more than she could bear. And instantly we knew we needed to stop trying to answer her question and just listen.
Melissa’s eyes burned with pain and sadness, anger and frustration. She hungered for an answer as to why her mother, who had borne so much pain bringing her into the world, couldn’t love her. She wondered how the woman of her own flesh refused to love her. She spoke of how she would hope against hope that when she picked up the phone to tell her Mom that she had passed into 12th grade, that she would receive some kind words of approval from her, only to receive none. She told us how all she longed for were words of affirmation from her own mother because all that was ringing in Melissa’s ears were the words of her mother telling her she is a mistake. She didn’t understand why her mother could love her other two daughters and yet could so completely hate her. She showed us her wrists where she had cut and burned herself to try and feel pain greater than what was in her heart. She told us how she went to her mother on Mother’s Day with a knife to herself, begging her mother to love her, telling her that she would kill herself if she could only know that she loved her. She had done everything, vying for her love and approval, and had only received rejection and even more heartache in return. And throughout this entire story I look at Melissa, my own heart full of her pain. What answer do you give to a mother’s absent love? How do you explain that God has a good and perfect reason for such suffering?
I look around and see the entire class in tears. It is mournfully silent and the only movement is from hands slowly brushing tear-streaked cheeks. Empathy has settled over everyone like a fog, and hearts are wrenched. My team is stunned and crying as well, and you can see the earnest prayers in everyone’s eyes that whatever they say will be from God.
I don’t remember all the responses that we gave Melissa as a team, the stories of empathy and how we could relate. But I do remember a lovely classmate’s response. She stood up wiping her own tears away, and thanked Melissa for her bravery. She thanked Melissa for sharing her story because it was a similar one that she and many others in the class shared, but never would have had the courage to say. In that moment I was so proud of the both of them, and so proud of the love and sorrow that this class could share. I could almost see the string that tied all of their hearts together, and that moment of common mourning, although tragic, was somehow beautiful through how the Lord was redeeming it.
I told Melissa to look around, to see all the people who were crying, to see how she had affected everyone. As she did I reassured her that she is NOT a mistake, that she has value and purpose and that by sharing her suffering she was blessing others. I told her that God loved her so much, more than anyone else ever could. And while my words seemed insufficient, they seemed to take hold.
The bell rang, and everyone froze in the intensity of the moment. The class prayed together, still in tears, and as they filed out, I grabbed Melissa and pulled her into a side room so I could let her talk more and lather God’s love on her. She continued pouring out to me and her story became more and more heart wrenching. She told me that when she was only 6 years old she opened the door to the bathroom and watched as her father was knocked off the toilet and hung himself. She told me “I watched his face turn blue and the blood clot in his eyes”. But what stuck with her more than that was his hand on his neck over the rope. She couldn’t help but see that and think that maybe he was thinking about taking the rope off from around his neck, and that if she had just stayed outside the door and called his name, maybe her father would have taken the rope off and would still be alive today. And more than this haunting memory, he haunts everyone else’s memory through Melissa as she looks almost exactly like him- only another reason for her mother to hate her.
The words of comfort I gave her were not my own, they were completely of God speaking through me. I can remember having Melissa recite that she is important, valued, and loved. I remember letting her know that God had sent us all the way from America specifically to tell her that God sees her pain and wants her to know that He will heal her and make her new because He loves her so incredibly much. I kissed her wrists and told her to stop cutting and burning herself, and to stop thinking about suicide because she is too loved to kill herself. I promised that if she could love and trust God, and come to Him in her sorrow, that He would redeem her pain and make her life one of VICTORY and TRIUMPH.
With tears and smiles, and somehow some laughter, she hugged me tightly with bright eyes. We held hands and as she looked into my eyes she sincerely thanked me. There was joy and hope underneath the tears and pain and I could only give glory to God for the healing that was already happening in her heart.
I was too emotionally overwhelmed to stay for the final class period, so I snuck out and talked with our contact Lydon. I explained to him what had just happened, and Melissa’s story. And he said that if nothing else, we came to Friemersheim and Grutbrak to save this girl’s life, to keep her from killing herself, and to show her that God loves her so much that His Son, Jesus died so that she could LIVE.
And in that moment I knew it was true.
And that, saving one life for Christ, makes this entire trip worth it. If for no other reason, Melissa makes the 11 months on the World Race, worth it.
Please continue to pray for Melissa, and especially for her mother. Pray that they will both be able to come to the Love of Christ, that He will heal their broken hearts, and that they will be able to love one another. I believe that is what God wants- and just imagine the power of Melissa’s testimony in the redemption of her tragedy. She has the power to influence lives and be an encouragement for Christ, and just as she affected an entire classroom, she has the power to affect the world through how God used her suffering to His glory. Pray for God’s redemption in her life, and in all the lives of the boys and girls who have similar stories of parental abandonment, or are suicidal.
If you know anyone that is struggling with contemplating suicide please visit the following sites, www.iasp.info/
www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
www.yellowribbon.org/
