It was an exchange I'd found myself in more than once before. Another mom friend was musing aloud with me about various schooling options for her oldest child. After a few minutes, I couldn't keep track of where we were in the conversation. This school emphasized strong academics while that school prioritized spiritual formation. The university acceptances reported by this school appeared more impressive than that school. That school seemed more well-rounded while this other school swelled with elitism. I understood the reality of these considerations, but in the moment, the obvious overwhelm on my friend's face felt more important. "How are you doing with the decision making process?" I asked.
It turns out, not so well. She went on to explain how, as a young girl, school had been rife with struggle. Peer relationships never felt easy or secure, academic life was so full of competition that learning lost its joy, and school days regularly ended with an exhausted collapse into bed. What felt significant was not so much the content of our conversation, but the anxious question that pulsed just below her musings. Which schooling option for her son would protect him from the struggles she had endured?
The drive to answer this question seemed to almost burn within her, as did the twin beliefs that a "struggle-less" option existed and, if she ruminated long enough about it, it was within her power to discover it. The impulse felt familiar. I thought of my own wonderings. "Maybe if I could just master this parenting technique..." "If only we lived in that kind of house..." "If I could just say the exact right thing at the exact right time in the exact right tone..." It would be never-ending to name all the ways I've tried to problem solve myself and those I love out of the reality that in this life, we struggle.
We wouldn't argue with it on paper. It is through the struggle of labor pains that we are introduced to this world and it abides with us all the days thereafter. None of us can escape the indelible marks left by various forms of sin and suffering. I doubt I'm alone in my struggle with relationships, full of richness as much as they are also full of unmet longings. I struggle with my capacity for impact, satisfied one minute with the work of my hands and disappointed the next. I see my children struggle in their own ways and my heart aches because I know there is more to come.
I am aware that life in this world is marked by struggle and yet, like my friend, I long for an "out," or at least a way to minimize it, particularly for those I love. We all sense our design for Eden, for shalom, for a perfectly "struggle-less" existence. We feel our souls aching for it, even as our lived experience unabashedly and frequently reminds us that we find ourselves elsewhere. It's quite the wrestling match, really. Struggle is unavoidable but nevertheless, we can't help but try to outrun it.
I wonder if Jesus' words in John 16 were spoken with this wrestling in mind. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. Struggle is a given, Jesus names, but so too is the offering of hope. In Christ, we can cozy up to the idea that we struggle and in Christ, our hope is given a face and a name.
This is the beginning of a biweekly blog series in which we seek to address struggle, our tenuous relationship with it, and our hope in the midst of it. As we enter into some of the coldest and darkest months of an already tumultuous season in our nation's history, may we take heart that the struggles we face are no surprise to our Lord and in Him we have reason to hope.
—Claire Lewis
