Two weeks ago my appendix decided to rupture. It was completely unexpected and for a few days threw my life into chaos.
It happened just as I was entering one of the busiest times of my whole year. I was about to spend the weekend co-hosting a new Christian-led festival, CODA, for which I had invested hours of time working with the team to make it happen. I was also due to speak three times at one of the UK's biggest Christian festivals, New Wine United, I had an appointment with the Archbishop of Wales (always a treat) and I was going to be leading a workshop at the Church In Wales' new training institute, St Padarn's. I was extremely excited about all these things and looking forward to making a contribution to them.
Many of my lovely and well-meaning Christian friends suggested my illness was God's way of slowing me down and causing me to rest. I'm not really sure how I feel about that. First, I wasn't feeling anxious or stressed, just looking forward to all these opportunities. Second, being ill and subsequently recovering didn't involve much rest. I was operated on, poked and prodded and given IV drugs frequently – sleep was sporadic because of the discomfort and being in hospital for five days was not conducive to resting well. I was so poorly for a few days that the idea that it was God's plan was not endearing me to my Creator.
There is a verse, Romans 8:28, that often gets used as a consolation verse but mostly is used out of context: 'And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.' It is probably one of the most quoted verses in the New Testament. As Christians, we often use this verse to give each other solace, interpreting it to mean that everything will turn out all right in the end. In our eagerness to encourage and comfort we offer the false optimism of movie make-believe.
But for so many of us, this is rarely if ever true. Life is hard, cruel, unexpected and unexplainable. Being told everything is going to be OK or that God is using this for good, when you are in the middle of excruciating pain, loss and suffering, is often anything other than helpful.
Romans 8 is part of a letter where Paul is writing about living in the power of the Spirit in the midst of suffering. He is teaching that we may not see any good come of our pain and tragedy in our lifetime, but that this isn't the only reality. There is a place and time beyond our imagination that is more real than what we currently experience. Everything that happens in this mortal realm is working towards that ultimate destination.
I've also discovered that God appears to allow our lives to unfold as they do for two reasons: first, to help us to restore our broken relationship with him and second, to make us more like Jesus. The ultimate good in any situation is for us to end up resembling the Son of God and for us to be in relationship with him.
When my first marriage ended 17 years ago I remember pleading with God to bring good out of the situation. I didn't want the awfulness of what I was experiencing to be pain for pain's sake, I wanted something good to be produced. At the time, I thought that would mean my marriage being restored, but it wasn't. God's good did come about, but it came about in me, not in my circumstances. My marriage ending and the ensuing years were filled with excruciating pain and loss. In the world's eyes, my situation was pretty dreadful. But the miracle did happen and God did bring his good. It was worked out in my character: I became less selfish, less me-focused, more empathetic, tolerant, kind and loving. I became more self-aware, able to work on my weaknesses and develop my strengths. I would probably have never chosen to go through everything I did – but I am so thankful I did.
So what about my bout of unexpected appendicitis? What good came out of that? Initially I couldn't see anything – I was angry, frustrated and bitterly disappointed that I couldn't do what I wanted to do. And then I prayed. I prayed that God would bring his good out of my frustration and disappointment and as always, he didn't disappoint. He showed me that my reasons for wanting to do all those things were a little off. My motives weren't as pure as they should be. I was wanting to do them more for me than him. I realised I had got caught up in my own abilities and my own strengths. My driving force was self-gratification and pride.
I recovered sufficiently well to make one of the Christian festivals, New Wine United, and I just may have preached one of the best talks I have ever preached and led one of the best seminars I've ever led. God's good blossomed in me. I stood up to speak with thrush in my mouth because of the antibiotics I was still taking, pain in my side where my appendix had been removed and pretty washed out because I had been through a trauma, but I glowed with God's goodness, love and gifting. I spoke his words and he came and touched people's lives because my motives had changed.
So perhaps my well-meaning friends aren't too wrong when they say that God may have let this happen. Yes: in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose – just not always in the way we might expect.
Mandy Bayton is The Cinnamon Network adviser for Wales and a freelance writer. Follow her on Twitter @mandyebayton
