Worthy of it All

 The refrain of David Brymer's "Worthy of it All" engulfed me:

"You are worthy of it allYou are worthy of it all, JesusFor from You are all thingsAnd to You are all thingsYou deserve the glory"

In the hundreds of times I'd heard this song, the words had never connoted this particular meaning— never, until the still small voice of the Lord posed a question I didn't want to answer: "If I'm worthy of your joy, am I not also worthy of your suffering?"How frequently had I sung this song, declaring him worthy over all, when I only believed in his sovereignty over my joy and enthusiasm? I read scriptures echoing the message of Revelation 4:11:

"Worthy are You, our Lord and our God, to receive glory and honor and power; for You created all things, and because of Your will they existed, and were created."

Declaring him worthy of glory and honor comes naturally to me, and it's no wonder. In church culture, we read verses centered on offering the positive aspects of ourselves to the Lord and sing songs offering him glory, cultivating a Christian culture that's afraid to experience suffering, let alone have the audacity of declaring the Lord worthy of enduring trials for.But worthy of it all? Worthy of my tears and pain and shame?How could I possibly offer the darkest pieces of my existence to a good and beautiful God? I think many of us ask this question, wondering how the parts of our souls experiencing suffering, the parts we try to hide from God may actually be the parts He wants most.As I contemplate suffering, the familiar verbiage of John 16:33 comes to mind. Jesus guarantees our suffering on this earth:

I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.

In previous readings of this verse, I chose to focus on the second half, thinking that if I brushed past the pain and focused on His role as my overcomer, the pain might dissipate.As I sat in my doubts, trying to make sense of how offering a good God my messy brokenness could possibly be seen as a beautiful act of worship, the still small voice spoke again:"I'm worthy of it all, worthy of your suffering— because in walking through the darkest valley, in trusting that I'll never leave your side, you get the greatest reward of all: me. If you never experience suffering, you're robbed of seeing my power and tender guidance on display in your life. Trust that the intimacy with me developed through enduring hardship far outweighs the temporary discomfort of your situation."  It's not an easy feat–seeing my pain as a gift and opportunity to draw closer to the father–but in offering Him the fullness of myself, I can experience the fullness of who He is.I'm learning to look for His power being magnified in my moments of weakness, learning to lean on Him for provision when I'm tempted to despair, learning to trust that knowing Him deeper is a beautiful reward for my suffering.In this season of lent, of remembering the dust I came from and will return to, the Lord has taught me the beauty of lament– of pouring out my honest expression of emotion. There is beauty in my broken song offered as an act of surrender.Perhaps through the brutal honesty of declaring Him worthy of my suffering, it is a song more beautiful than the shiny veneer of happy declarations that feel more like a cover-up for my pain than an honest baring of my soul.A challenge–for myself and for you–is to search beyond the surface of a situation to see His hand at work, offering even the messiest places as an act of worship in full faith that He is worthy of it all.