When God Doesn't Fix It: Lessons You Never Wanted to Learn, Truths You Can't Live Without

by Laura Story

We’re all just one phone call away from learning the results of a test or the news of an affair, the death of a loved one, the loss of

a job, or a thousand other ways our hope can be shattered. In that moment, we think life as we know it is over. The truth is, life, as we’ve yet to know it, has just begun.

Am I going to let my circumstances determine my view of God, or am I going to let God determine how I view my circumstances?

no longer believe the myth that trials are a curse. Trials are an opportunity. They are an invitation to do good works to glorify our Father in heaven, to transform our lives from the inside out, and to drive us into the arms and footsteps of Jesus.

Ninety minutes later, the nurse came for me and walked me down to his room. I could see through the glass window that Martin was hooked up to several machines. There was a big patch over his nose and an incision where they’d done a kind of liposuction to make the “fat pad” skin graft that plugged the hole in his nose. As I rounded the corner to his room, his eyes were open. When I walked in, they lit up as soon as he saw me. It was such a relief to see that he recognized me after the doctor’s warning

“How are you feeling?” I asked, reaching out to take his hand. “Laura Story!” he said. That’s odd. After the success of “Indescribable,” I continued to use my maiden name when I performed, but after we got married, Martin had always called me by my legal married name—Laura Elvington. “What are you doing here?” he asked. I laughed. The doctor had warned me that Martin would be a little loopy. He asked me about people from our high school, and I answered his questions the best I could even though it had been years since we’d seen most of them. It seemed odd until I had a sudden realization. He knows who I am. He knows we went to high school together. But does he know we’re married? How do you break that to someone who’s just had brain surgery? As gently as possible I said, “Do you know why I’m here?” “No.” “It’s because we’re married. I’m your wife.”

It was an awkward thing to say, but even more awkward to stand there through a long pause, watching confusion cross his face. Slowly he asked, “We’re mar-ri-ed?” “Yes, we’re married.” His eyes grew wide and his face broke out into the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. He raised his left arm into a fist, pumped it, and loudly said, “Yes!” The nurse outside his room heard him and looked up to see what was happening. It was the sweetest moment ever. If you’re going to break that kind of news to your spouse, that’s the best way for it to go. I leaned over and kissed him. ...

Martin continued to be confused. He asked many of the same questions over and over. One day, he saw the ring on my hand and said, “So you’re married?” “Yes, I am,” I said, trying not to giggle. “Do you know who I am married to?” “Is it Ward?” Ward was Martin’s friend from college. “No, it’s you.” “It’s me? It’s me!” He was so sweet. He had the same excitement each time I told him I was his wife. Occasionally, he’d get up to use the bathroom, and then one of us would notice he’d been in there a long time. I’d open the door, and he would be picking at the plug in his nose. “Martin, the doctor told you not to pick your nose!” It was dangerous because he could mess up the packing that held the plug in place. “Laura,” he’d say, “that is the very thing the doctor told me to do.” It was two and a half weeks before

was finally released. As I drove him home, I thanked God for the miracle of Martin making it through the surgery. Though he was still a little confused, he could walk and talk. I was so happy for him and for us. At home that afternoon, it soon became clear that I couldn’t leave Martin alone even while he was sleeping. He woke up from a nap forgetting that he’d had brain surgery. “There’s something in my nose,” he said, trying to pull it out again. I had to watch him carefully. That night, when I climbed into bed with Martin, his eyes opened wide. He was obviously very uncomfortable and pulled the sheets up under his chin, attempting to hide or protect himself. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Laura, I appreciate your wanting to look after me, but this is not appropriate,” he said. I tried not to laugh because he sounded so sincere. Martin had always been a man of integrity. He didn’t want to go to bed with anyone other than his wife. He didn’t know that I was his wife!

Our desire is for God to fix broken things. But God’s desire for us is to fix our relationship with him.

But while we’re focused on the unhealed sickness, hurt, and pain in our lives, God is focused on a bigger picture. Something else is broken, and it has eternal consequences if it doesn’t get fixed.

God wants to restore our relationship with him more than anything else. Though he loves us, he’ll allow us to feel the pain of this world’s unhealed hurts if it brings us closer to him.

A God who leaves physically sick people to preach the good news to spiritually sick people is a God who cares more about our soul than our body. That is who our God is.

It’s called the “fall” because we’ve fallen away from God, and we can’t get up by ourselves.

Yes, Jesus could have healed all the broken legs, ear infections, strep throat, breast cancers, and indigestion that was coughed up before him. But that would only have been a temporal healing. It wouldn’t have healed their relationship with God. Jesus wanted more for them.

Isaiah 55:11 says that God’s Word always does the work he sends it to do: “So is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” This can be hard for us to understand because we usually think about doing the work ourselves. But God’s light and truth are like twin homing pigeons. When we’re down, he sends them out to lead us back to him. Even when we are in a really dark place, God doesn’t wait for us to muster up enough belief. To grow our faith, he sends his light and truth to hog-tie us and drag us back into his presence. Strong faith doesn’t come from how hard I work.

It’s not what I do. It’s what he does. It is not how strong my faith is. It’s how strong my God is. Think of a mother who is crossing a busy street with a toddler. She takes the child’s hand and, at first, the child holds on. But somewhere in the middle of the intersection, the energetic toddler lets go and tries to wriggle free. At that moment, the child’s safety and security aren’t based on how hard the child can hold on—he’s already let go. They’re based on the strength of the mother’s grip and how hard she hangs on to him.

Psalm 19 says that God’s Word refreshes the soul, makes the simple wise, gives joy to the heart, and gives light to the eyes. It says that God’s commands are more precious than gold and sweeter than honey from a honeycomb.

Something supernatural happens when we read God’s Word—our faith grows, our doubts fade, and our strength increases to endure our circumstances.

Before we got married, our premarital counselor told me, “The whole world could be against your husband, but as long as you are for him, you give him wings. And if the whole world is for him, but you’re against him, it’s like pouring concrete in his shoes.”

“Maybe you don’t want to get hurt,” she challenged me. “Maybe it’s hard for you to see him get hurt. But that’s life. We’re all going to get hurt, and without pain he won’t grow. He needs to be independent. You need him to be more independent. Could it be that God is writing his story in Martin’s life and that you’re standing in the way?”

We often think about worship as the songs we sing in church, but the truth is that worshipping God is about surrender. Surrendering to God’s will when it doesn’t match ours or when we’re too impatient to wait for him. Surrendering that which is most important to us. And surrendering our personal story to live out our part in God’s greater story. Worship is surrendering everything for God, valuing God so much that we’re willing to let everything else go.

What have you had to let go? Maybe it was something tangible, like your dream car or that house in the ideal subdivision where all the happy people hold

entertaining parties. Maybe, like me, you longed to have children and you couldn’t. Or you envisioned staying home with your children but ended up having to work. Maybe you gave up your career for someone else. Perhaps someone has disappointed you—a husband who cheated, a wife who strayed, a child who rebelled—and you fear you will never have the life you desired. Maybe your marriage isn’t what you expected and you’ve had to sacrifice the dreams you had on your wedding day. Maybe it’s your opinion of yourself—you’re so afraid of failure that you fail to live. What is your Isaac that God is calling you to sacrifice?

There is something we’re all struggling to let go of. God is stirring something in our hearts and encouraging us to trust him. Maybe he wants us to surrender it, to loosen our grip, and allow him to take it.

The answer to our whys may be obvious now, or they may never be answered in our lifetime. But even if we knew why, it’s likely we wouldn’t be satisfied with the answers anyway.

We ask God why, believing the answer will provide us with some kind of deep soul satisfaction. But too often, we don’t get the answer

give up asking questions; we just need to understand their rol...

our loss, communicating our frustration, and expressing our feelings. We belong to an almighty, transcendent, yet approachable God who loves hearing our questions. Our questions are important to him, and the Scriptures are full of hurting people asking questions. Look at the Psalms. David wrote many of them when he was broken; and, in them, he poured out some painful and intimate questions. Sometimes David got answers. Sometimes he got silence. But even when David’s questions weren’t answered, his faith in God was stronger than his need to know.

Just like David, my why questions allow me to go before my heavenly Father and pour out my heart to him. They help me process what I am going through.

It’s important to know that nowhere does the Bible promise that all our questions will be answered this side of heaven. God doesn’t promise our stories will make sense in and of themselves. But he does promise they will find their greater purpose in light of his greater story of redemption.

The answer to why doesn’t help us heal. But knowing that God’s glory can be displayed, even in the brokenness of our lives, gives us hope despite our circumstances. I promise you will find more

purpose and joy in your life if you set aside the why and begin to ask how.

One is because sin entered the world, and it looks like cancer. The second is that even though God hates cancer, it can be used to reveal his glory.

everyone got together and put their problems in a bowl, I’d rather leave with my own problems instead of taking on someone else’s.” In fact, if you and I were trading problems, I’d ask for mine back. Maybe that’s because despite the sin and brokenness in this world, God is

good. He knows what, with his help, we can handle and where we most need to see his work.

But would you be willing to sign up for the brokenness in your life, if you knew your brokenness would bring glory to God and enable you to learn to trust him in everything?

David might be the most authentic worship leader the church has ever seen. He worshipped God regardless of his emotional state. He recognized that he didn’t have to work himself into a rapturous frenzy to worship God because he knew it wasn’t his feelings that mattered. Rather he could wait on God to put the joy in his heart, the song in his mouth, and eventually the desire to sing despite his circumstances.

Psalm 40 taught me it was okay for me to come and worship God just as I was. I didn’t need to psych myself up to have a better attitude or wait for a day when I was all Pollyannaish about that morning’s set list. All of those times when I had been paralyzed by grief and felt as if I couldn’t muster up enough strength to sing certain songs, David was telling me I didn’t have to. God would help me sing a new song.

In fact, the Psalms revealed to me that worship had very little to do with emotion and everything to do with God’s faithfulness. In Psalm 103, David had to command his soul to praise God, “Praise the LORD, my soul” (v. 1). In Psalm 34, David wrote, “I will extol the LORD at all times; his praise will always be...

I truly love Martin and want what’s best for him. I don’t believe I am stuck in this marriage to him any more than he is stuck in this marriage to me. I believe I was uniquely chosen by God to be the one who gets to love Martin as a wife. No one else has that role or gets to serve him in that way.

We need to see marriage not as a union to make us happy but as a union to make us holy.

would help them see that their disappointment didn’t come from God breaking a promise but from their own false expectations. They expected God to do what they wanted him to do, to be obedient to their commands. When he wasn’t, they were disappointed and unhappy with him.

But that’s not how it works. Scripture says we’re not good people. We can’t know the mind of God. And unconditional love sometimes means unequal treatment. We were the ones who disappointed God, but he loved us anyway.

He didn’t promise that we wouldn’t have trials. He promised that he’d be there when we did and that he’d never leave our side. We all want to say that we’ll have joy in the midst of our trials, but we don’t really know whether we will until we face them. And

She used her story to win them to

Jesus? Her broken story?

Yes. That’s exactly what Jesus wanted. And that’s why she was the divine appointment at the well, set by the Father, kept by the Son. While we can’t understand why he chose her, we can get an idea from an earlier verse. Since Jesus was a Jewish rabbi and he and his disciples were devout Jews, this eastern route would have been the expected path for them to take on their way to Galilee. Instead, Jesus chose to go directly through Samaria. In fact, John wrote that Jesus and his disciples had to go through Samaria (John 4:4). The Greek word for “had to” suggests a moral obligation or a constraint that aris...

Each week we heard a new story, and then we were told that we should be like the hero of that story. If we behaved as they behaved, then we would find favor with God like they did. But the more I tried, the more I came up short. As I grew, I learned that while the basic truths were still there, these heroes of the faith lived much more complicated, unpredictable, and disobedient lives than what was illustrated on the flannel board or in picture books.

Noah’s story took a dark turn after the floodwaters receded. Abraham’s journey to trusting God started long before the sacrifice of Isaac. And there was more to David’s story after he successfully stood up against the giant. Which part of their stories were we supposed to emulate?