An Essay by Samantha DeCosmo

I have a deep love for flowers and gardens. It’s something I inherited from my Mom and Dad, who have had beautiful gardens for as long as I can remember. It wasn’t until I became older, however, that I really began to appreciate these spaces and the beauty they hold. I think about my journey through life, one that has been lined with chronic illness and no shortage of grief, and I find comfort in the image of God as the Master Gardener, growing and refining my faith through many seasons of pain and suffering.

I have long wrestled with the question of God’s purpose in all the pain I’ve endured in the past 20 years. I live with a genetic connective tissue disorder that has caused chronic pain throughout my body since I was a teenager. I have seen countless doctors, spent far too much time in the hospital, and been through surgery after surgery. My disorder has impacted almost every aspect of my life, and my pain has changed me in ways I never expected.

But I see God working in my soul similar to the way I’ve seen my parents work in their gardens throughout the years. I look at the process of pruning plants and think about how it may look like the plant is being stripped down and destroyed when it is actually making way for new and better growth. This pruning strengthens the plant and prepares it for everything the next seasons may bring.

Before Jesus was crucified, He used a gardening analogy when speaking to His disciples. He talked about the importance of spiritual growth and finding strength in Him. In John 15:2 ESV, He said this of God: “Every branch in me that does not bear fruit He takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.” The suffering I’ve experienced because of my chronic illness has been like a pruning, a catalyst for my spiritual growth that has led me to seek a rich and rewarding relationship with Jesus.

Jesus knew suffering intimately. I think of His time in the garden of Gethsemane, when He knelt on the ground crying out to God to remove His pain. I think of the hurt and fear and betrayal He must’ve felt. I’ve felt similar despair in my own periods of suffering, betrayed by my body. Knowing Jesus has experienced this hurt too has led me to seek the comfort that only a relationship with Him can provide. He is the one that truly understands my pain and the weight of my sorrow. This has been a beacon of light on my darkest nights, a balm to my soul when the pain has felt like too much to bear.

The daily physical pain brought on by my chronic illness began when I was around 15 years old. The emotional pain and depression that accompanied it followed not long after. I can remember when it all became overwhelming, my Mom would climb into bed with me, and I would seek comfort in her arms. Or my Dad would strum his guitar and sing to me, the soft melody helping to calm my nerves and distract me from what hurt.

My parents couldn’t remove my discomfort, but somehow their presence and care softened things. In the same way, as an adult, I often feel held by a God whose presence and love softens the pain I still experience. Without the suffering I’ve had to endure, I doubt I would know the depths of God’s love that I have come to treasure in my life.

I believe God has used my pain and trials to help shape me more into the image of Jesus. Through my suffering, I’ve developed compassion for others and a level of empathy I know I would not otherwise have. It’s made me realize everyone is carrying some type of pain and to be kind to everyone I meet.

Henri Nouwen said, “what we can know, however, is that man suffers and that a sharing of suffering can make us move forward.”1 Sharing my story of suffering has allowed me to help so many others, becoming a wounded healer. This has been one of the most rewarding parts of my life.

If not for my struggles and pain, my life would be nowhere near as full as it is today. Because I have known so many seasons of darkness, I have come to appreciate the small things in life and the days filled with light so much more. The Great Gardener has been tenderly caring for me and pruning me to bear more fruit than I could have ever imagined.

If you’re in a season of suffering, trust that God is using this time for great growth in your soul too. I understand how badly it can hurt to be in such a place. It’s human nature to want to avoid pain and sorrow. I’ve wanted to run from these feelings more times than I can count. But I’ve learned over the years to slow down when I get that urge to run and to pause and listen instead. If we can recognize the pruning God is doing in our hearts, perhaps we can learn to lean into these experiences instead of fighting them or wishing them away.

Perhaps we can come to see these seasons when we feel everything has been stripped away for what they truly are: His grace. For it has been in the moments I’ve felt the most broken that I’ve come to know God in a visceral way. It’s during these times that Jesus takes our face in His hands, wipes away each tear and whispers, “I know, child. I know.” Is there any comfort greater than that? My journey has taught me that our wounds and our suffering can ultimately become the sacred spaces where we encounter God’s light and experience His deepest love.

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1. Nouwen, Henri. The Wounded Healer. New York: Image Books/Penguin Random House, 1979.

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