ad·ver·si·ty
/ədˈvərsədē/
noun
I've been thinking about this word a lot lately, dear reader. It's origin means "turn toward," which I feel is significant. Turn toward what? Toward whom? Toward where? Is adversity confrontational? If so, what or who do we confront in these moments of continued difficulty or misfortune?
In my experience with adversity, I often turn away first. I resist and push against and pull against and refuse to budge or try to turn a blind eye to it all. Resistance in weight lifting can be beneficial, but resisting adversity in life generally leads to frustration. Ignoring adversity by seeking distraction or other occupation works temporarily, but it consistently fails me. The persistence of adversity outlasts our resistance to it. Adversity is meant to be borne, not avoided.
When I turn toward my adversity, paying attention to it--not so I can pull out some weapon from behind me and vanquish it--but approaching it and sitting in whatever discomforting space that challenge holds for me, I learn. I experience. I feel. I come to the beginning of understanding. I confront myself, with all my idealizations and falsehoods I hold like flimsy water noodles in a stormy ocean, grasping them for support they cannot give. Adversity requires me to let go of these and instead press toward the life preservers of truth that can and do and will help me get through.
Adversity facilitates development, and the choice or accepting our adversity is a catalyst of that process. In choosing this reaction to challenges, I feel to bless and appreciate rather than resist God. I trust that He understands perfectly our adversity, for "in all their affliction he was afflicted, and the angel of his presence saved them: in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; and he bare them, and carried them all the days of old" (Isaiah 63:9). The Lord has not only borne our griefs and carried our sorrows, he has borne and carried us. Prophets foretold that His name should be called Emmanuel, for God is with us in all our circumstances. And why? He loves us. He loves us enough to not take away adversity, but to sustain us and teach us in it, that we may grow. "And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity, and the water of affliction, yet shall not thy teachers be removed into a corner any more, but thine eyes shall see thy teachers" (Isaiah 30:20). Adversity and affliction become invitations to see the Lord at work in us, to see Him no longer in the corner--supervising and giving the occasional smile of encouragement--but to see Him close, yoked with us.
We can turn all sorts of ways when adversity comes to call. Sometimes we anticipate a challenge, and sometimes it blindsides us, but there is always grace sufficient for us. Because of God's grace, adversity deepens joy. Its like sea salt in caramel or balsamic vinegar with strawberries, these unlikely parings that balance sweet with sharp and bitter and thus create a more complex, satisfying, sensational taste. Charles H. Spurgeon said well, “I bear my witness that the worst days I have ever had have turned out to be my best days. And when God has seemed most cruel to me he has then been most kind. If there is anything in this world for which I would bless him more than for anything else it is for pain and affliction. I am sure that in these things the richest tenderest love has been manifested to me. Our Father's wagons rumble most heavily when they are bringing us the richest freight of the bullion of his grace. Love letters from heaven are often sent in black-edged envelopes. The cloud that is black with horror is big with mercy. Fear not the storm. It brings healing in its wings and when Jesus is with you in the vessel the tempest only hastens the ship to its desired haven.” Worst days are the worst and feel the worst, sometimes for a long time. Keep at it. God is at work with us in them. In our adversity, we choose what we turn toward and as such, we choose whether we see Him or not.
