I planned on going to NYC this summer to study
with American Ballet Theatre, one of the top ballet companies in the world. It
was a dream of mine, a wonderful, crazy dream.
When I broke my foot, I stopped
dreaming. It hurt too much to anticipate something clouded in uncertainty and
pain. I thought it better to not desire this opportunity at all than to desire
it and then have it taken away.
I didn't want to desire
something, because to desire something is to face disappointment in the eye. That is a hard battle.
I lost.
And so, the disappointment of
the broken foot claimed yet another dream.
"Mom," I said a few
days ago. "I thought that I already learned my lesson. I missed recital. I
went through the pain, complications and inconveniences of breaking my foot.
I've learned so much about trusting God. Why couldn't He have let me have
this?"
What she said stuck with
me.
"Sometimes, we have to
learn the lesson of disappointment."
When I face a trial, I want to
know why. Why did I go through this? There must be some lesson that I need to
learn, some person that I am supposed to inspire. I put the pressure on myself
to make the suffering worth my while. If I’m going to go through this suffering,
I might as well write a book about what I learned through it.
If I’m honest, though, sometimes the lesson learned isn't
something big and inspiring.
Sometimes, I have to learn the lesson of disappointment.
I don’t mean to sound pessimistic. I don’t mean to say that life
is a pit of sorrow, and we should just give up and watch Netflix all day. What
I mean is that on this earth, we will face disappointment. It’s part of sin. It’s
part of learning. It’s simply part of life before eternity.
This rhythm of disappointment points us in two directions: pity
parties or praise parties.
No one throws a pity party like a disappointed person. Trust me, I
know. And the world expects us to
throw spectacular pity parties. After all, Adele makes her living off of pity
parties!
There is another reaction to disappointment, though. Hope. Praising
God in hope.
I don’t mean that we hope that our disappointment will go away. I
am talking about a deeper, more secure hope. An eternal one. I am talking about
the hope of Jesus.
Jesus comes to us in our disappointment and reminds us that this
world is broken, but He has fixed our souls in His grace. He reminds us that
this world is fading, but He has built an eternal home for us. He reminds us
that our lives are not about us, but He has given us a purpose far bigger than
any disappointment.
Jesus comes to us in our disappointment and reminds us of Himself. He gives us the chance to take our eyes off of our disappointments and onto His faithfulness. He takes our desires and holds them carefully, all the while making Himself the chief desire of our soul. (See my Tangled post for more of those thoughts.)
God doesn't promise us a life without disappointments. He does, however, promise strength for the suffering, grace for the hurting, and rest for the weary. He teaches us so much through trials, and sometimes, He teaches us the lesson of disappointment.
The lesson of disappointment is a slow one. It is a humble one. It
is a quiet one. You have to really hush down the pity parties to hear it, but
when you do, you will find that the disappointments are invitations to let go.
Let go of trying to force everything to be clear. Let go of
seeking to understand the lesson in suffering and simply seek Christ in suffering.
That's the beautiful thing about the lesson of disappointment, it points us to Christ. It forces us to lean in faith upon His goodness even when we can hardly see the path beneath our feet, let alone five feet ahead or behind. It shows us just how wonderful He is because the things around us- and even our own selves- seem so frail.
Emily Freemen’s book Simply Tuesday has a chapter that inspired part of this blog post. On page 178 of
her book, she says:
“I confess how disappointed I am that I don’t have clarity. But in
the confession, I begin to see Christ. I begin to release my obsession with
building my life into something linear, something I can figure out. Instead, I
believe that letting go doesn’t mean I’ll be left with nothing. It means I can more
fully hold on to Christ and trust the life he is building within me. I sense
him inviting me to trust him, not because I’ll finally understand, but
because I’ll begin to believe that he understands me.”
Here it goes. Life, a life full of desire and disappointment, lies
ahead of us. We could go about it scared. Scared of desires which disappoint.
Scared of disappointments which crush our desires. Or, we could live confident
in Christ. Confident that He is bigger than any disappointment, even the ones
that don’t make sense. We can live with Him as our chief, secure desire and hope.
Have you dealt with disappointment? Are you getting tired of this
rather lengthy string of posts about suffering? Tell me your thoughts and experiences in the
comments!
Princess Hannah