365 days. That’s how long it’s been since I started working from home and the immediate effects of COVID-19 hit my state and community. I remember the beginning, naively hoping that it would only last a few months or weeks, a lot can happen in seven days, after all. 

Like most challenges in my life, this one came as a shock. There was no preamble, just whispers of what was happening. One week we were at church and work and my in-laws were visiting and then the next, everything stopped.  When my dad filed for divorce back in 2004, he didn’t tell us he was leaving. He didn’t even tell my mom. Sure, there were some signs — like him living elsewhere and them arguing — but we didn’t actually know it was happening until it was. COVID reminded me of my parents divorce. It was shocking. It was full of unknowns. And day by day, we’ve survived it. 

I don’t remember the first Easter after my parent’s divorce but I’m guessing it was at our new church and it was my first Easter as a Christian. Like, for real. I mention Easter not just because COVID also came in the middle of Lent, leading up to Easter, but because that was the last holiday we had as a whole family, before we became fractured forever. It’s interesting all these challenging events have happened around or near the celebration of “The Greatest Day in History.” It’s probably just a coincidence but it’s interesting to me nonetheless; historic moments in my life coinciding with THE historical moment of time. 

A lot will be said about 2020 and the effects of COVID-19. A lot has been said already. I’m not here to wax poetic or provide some deep philosophical assessment of the past year. I’m not even here to shout my accomplishments during hardship. I’m here to talk about growth via pain and what God has been teaching me about the seen and unseen. 

It’s widely believed, although sometimes disputed, that along with pain comes growth. We see it physically, when we push our bodies and experience micro-tears that rebuild and grow our muscles. We see it when we experience the “pain” of giving up certain food groups to grow healthier. In fact, in some ways, it’s the whole purpose of Lent. The physical pain you may feel from fasting is intended to point you to Christ and growth. 

In my life, I have experienced a lot of pain. For those, not familiar, as a young child I experienced the pain of sexual abuse, the pain of a splintering family and fatherly rejection when my parents divorced, the pain of spiritual abuse and consequences of my sinful actions, the pain of loosing a brother to drugs and eventually prison, and most recently the pain of the loss of family relationships, COVID-19, and being accused of being a bully. I don’t list these things so you’ll feel pity. I list them to let you know that pain and I are old friends. Yet despite that, growth and I are not. In fact, for much of my life, I refused to work through the pain and grow. Instead, I packed pain away, as neatly as possible, into a little box and pretended it wasn’t there. Occasionally, some of it would leak out and I would have to address it, but for the most part, for a long time, it was ignored and purposefully forgotten. Life is, after all, much easier that way. 

It’s easy to ignore the things that hurt us and often we can live in the world where those troublesome things do not exist. Many people have the privilege to live in a world where racism doesn’t exist and when you threaten the fantasy they have created, they attack and deny and ignore. Why? Because pain is difficult and we have been taught to avoid it. Which is backwards. Because pain helps us grow. By ignoring our pain, avoiding it, we stunt ourselves. 

Now I am not at all suggesting we face our pain by putting ourselves in dangerous situations. I’m not at all suggesting we surround ourselves with dangerous people so that we can prove we’ve forgiven them. I am suggesting finding a safe place, person, community, etc. to grow in. One of the most beneficial things I have done is the Genesis process. In those five or so months, I faced deep pain and wounds in the company of wise and wonderful women and God healed. Not completely but a lot. And in the continued company of those women and some other dear friends, I have continued to heal daily. 

This past year was painful but if I’ve learned anything from my history, life is peaks and valleys, pain and growth, heavy and light, hurt and joy. And with great pain comes the opportunity for growth. 

And one of the ways that God is growing me, so far, in 2021 is reminding me of the seen and unseen. We’re pretty literal creatures. We see how someone behaves and we make a judgement. What we don’t often see behind a lash-out or snide remark is the broken person behind it. We see people smiling on social media and don’t see the way they purge food from their bodies or cut themselves in self-loathing. We don’t see people’s hearts so we make assumptions and judgements and condemnations. We also don’t listen. Hot take, I do these things. I’m preaching to myself, right now. God has been reminding me to stop and listen and see. He’s been inviting me to look past external circumstances and view the world through His eyes. Which also means, he’s been inviting me to understand growth through that lens as well.

Am I the most impatient person I know? Probably. I’m not sure, but it’s fairly likely. I hate waiting. For anything. I cannot sit still. And the worst thing to wait for, besides any baked good, is growth. I want to see fruit and I want to see it immediately. But most growth and change starts in the unseen and then slowly makes it way into the seen. 2020 and the COVID-19 pandemic brought some things to the surface that had been brewing for years, things that were evil and need to be destroyed. It also brought most of us a lot of pain. Pain that we’re either sweeping under the rug, hiding away, ignoring or slowly processing and growing from. The fruit may not be seen for many years but we’re trying. We’re doing our best. We’re choosing courage to face fears instead of running away or ignoring them. And that, my friends, is an accomplishment. 

When I look back on this year, I’ll of course remember the highlights like marriage and having two weddings, adventures with Adrian, growing my artistic endeavors, reading lots of books, having alone time, etc. I’ll also remember the hard and the heavy, like broken relationships, so many deaths, deaths of those we loved, the loneliness and weight of the world, disappointments, hurts, etc. But more than all of that, I want to remember the lessons that God has taught me. I want to remember to properly face fears and pain not run and hide from them. I want to remember to operate out of rest and to pursue Him over church leadership and prestige. I want to remember that He calls me beloved and to be kind to myself. But mostly I want to remember that growth happens under the surface. Fruit takes time. Have patience, little one. He is faithful.