New Life Through Pain

The rain cascading off the roof like a waterfall reminded me of the overwhelming emotion that paralyzed me the moment I heard the news. Though the passing of time blurs the sharpness of the memory, the old ache validates its truth. When new life emerges through trial and pain, we seldom value the process as much as we treasure the outcome. New life brings with it the joy of unquenchable hope, but a careless memory forgets that, like childbirth, new life comes only through great trial and, at times, pain.

Spring’s sweetest song is that of new life, as the earth awakens from its winter slumber. Yet, as earth’s womb births new life from the dark soil in my gardens, I still see the harsh remnants in the dry, dead wastes of the journey to a new beginning. The new life surrounding me as nature blossoms into its season of beauty, growth, and expansion, passed through a time of death. Leaves perished and were shed from the trees, flowers wilted, greenery shriveled; life faded from view, discarded and buried. Then, from dead seeds, bulbs, and roots, life resurrects brand new with the dawning of spring.

Perhaps the most vivid illustration of new life emerging from death, pain, and suffering is told in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. For, while I stand the recipient of the new life purchased for me at the Cross, I must understand it came through the torturous death of Christ. For though eternal life was sealed through Christ’s resurrection, His sacrificial death was required first for the purging of sin (Romans 8:1-39, 1 John 2:2). The greatest gift ever given, eternal life, is but one facet of God’s love to us through Jesus Christ’s life, death, and resurrection.

The new life we receive at salvation continues much like winter melting into spring year after year, as we transition through the winters of our lives, watching God bring new growth from harsh circumstances. Many years ago, on a spring day bursting with new life, I stood by a hospital bed holding my brother’s hand as we said goodbye to my father. Having flown together from Philadelphia to Charleston, South Carolina after receiving the news from my mother, we said the words buried long in our hearts. Yet at forty-nine years of age, my father lay in a coma, unable to respond. Just a few days later, he was gone. Thirty-seven years later, I still have questions, I still wonder if he heard my last “I love you.” Worst of all, I wonder if he knew Jesus.

Though I shared my faith with my family, only my brother came to know Christ. It would be another fifteen years before I had the privilege to lead my mother to saving faith in Jesus Christ. Since then, standing beside the graves of many loved ones, including my granddaughter, Indigo Evangeline, has not only taught me much about death and grief but about the new life that blossoms through death and pain.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. And he who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new.'" (Revelation 21:4-5, ESV)

Jesus Christ defeated death to give us eternal life, but God is making all things new, even now. As a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17), I live each day becoming more and more like Christ (Romans 8:29). Every trial and all suffering are redeemed through bringing forth new life, just as each year the same plants burst through the soil in my garden, anew, stronger, and more beautiful than the year before. Having weathered the harsh winter darkness, icy winds, heavy snows, and brutal spring rains, tender plants provide a vivid reminder of a strength rooted in hope, planted by Creator God.

I stood as Christ’s own by the deathbed of my father thirty-seven years ago, but though I stand today at a rainy window still Christ’s own, I am not the same woman. God’s perfect work of making all things new started at my salvation many years ago, bringing forth the fruit of new life with each harsh winter season of my life. And while my outward man perishes through each season of suffering, my inward man is made new. One day, my full beauty will reflect His when we stand face to face.

Image: Piero della Francesca's The Resurrection, created in the 1460s, is a fresco measuring 225 cm by 200 cm and is housed in the Museo Civico in Sansepolcro.

Donna is a passionate creative, writer, poet, speaker, retired missionary, CASA volunteer, experienced counselor and hospice and palliative care support personnel. Founder of Serenity in Suffering blog, and author of the Serenity in Suffering newsletter on Substack, where she shares articles, resources and counseling designed to help readers grow personally and find spiritual intimacy with Christ; ultimately finding purpose in the trials they face.