A few months ago I injured my knee. I moved a whole bunch of tables and chairs at work and, somewhere between reminders to myself to “lift with my legs, not with my back,” I twisted one of my knees.

It didn’t hurt right away, but once it did, the pain lasted for several weeks. Knee braces, ice packs, and ibuprofen became regular parts of my routine. I grew accustomed to hobbling from here to there and assuring anyone around that I’d catch up in a minute. I tried to be upbeat about it, determined not to inconvenience anyone or appear out of shape and middle-aged. But the truth is, I was hurting, both physically and emotionally.

The thing about physical pain is that it can easily become all-encompassing as it prevents us from going about our days the way we did before. As we make accommodations while simultaneously attempting to ease our discomfort, we can quickly forget what life was like before the pain began.

My twisted knee hurt, but it wasn’t serious. And I knew — or at least I was pretty sure — it wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, I would heal and my knee would be as good as new. But despite knowing this, I slipped into a gloomier outlook pretty fast.

Would my knee hurt forever?

Was I destined to limp and predict stormy weather from now on?

Do knee braces ever look cute? What if I got a purple one?

I’m not that old, but I’m not that young . . . have I entered my bad knees era?

When my knee didn’t grow stronger and my pain didn’t subside after a few weeks of babying it, I really did wonder if perhaps this was just how it would be from now on. I feared this new pain was permanent.

Have you ever felt that way?

Perhaps your pain wasn’t a twisted knee but a broken heart. Maybe you didn’t slip under the waters of a physical ache but an emotional or spiritual one, desperate for relief and increasingly afraid it would never come. Have you ever wondered if “this season” is just how things are now?

Knee pain aside, I’ve felt that way for a while. My family has faced serious struggles the past few years, and while nobody is in crisis today, I know it’s just a matter of time before I’m hit with another blowup or betrayal, another confession or confrontation that sends me back to my knees.

This season is challenging and the most honest voice in my head whispers, “What if it’s not a season?”

The reality is that what we hope is temporary sometimes sticks around forever. Sometimes, the thing we’re promised will get better never does. The pain cannot be healed and the broken thing cannot actually be put back together. Sometimes this is the way the story plays out — and the worst part is that we don’t know when this time is a “sometime.”

So what do we do when a season lasts too long, and we don’t know when it will end?

What I’ve learned as my particular season has dragged on (and on and on) is that we must look the uncertainty in the eye and acknowledge its part in our pain. As my counselor is forever advising me, we must feel our feelings. Denying that we don’t know when our difficult situation will end and stuffing ourselves with toxic positivity and empty promises only exacerbates the injury, whether it’s a physical one or something less tangible but no less painful.

Responding to our hard season (or, even worse, to someone else’s) with “It could be worse!” or “At least you have [fill in the blank]” are admonishments disguised as encouragement, adding insult to injury. We don’t need platitudes for our pain; we need compassion. And we need honesty. We need Lamentations. We need the sad Psalms. We need Jesus, who never once flinched in the face of suffering, even His own.

“I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me.”
Lamentations 3:19-20 NIV

My soul is in deep anguish. How long, Lord, how long? . . . I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears.
Psalm 6:3, 6-7 NIV

“Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Sit here while I pray.’ He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. ‘My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,’ he said to them.”
Mark 14:32-34 NIV

In these seasons that go on way too long, finding the courage and humility to ask for — and accept — help is also a must. We must grasp onto the hope of a God who promises to be with the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18) and remember that no matter our struggles, nothing can separate us from the love of God (Romans 8:38-39). But I suspect I’m not the only one who finds those things slightly easier to do than simply facing our pain and the uncertainty it brings.

So today, if you’re in a season that has gone on way past its expiration date, perhaps so long you’re tired of the word “season” altogether, I am here to sit with you and accept that this is hard. This is hard, and we don’t know what will come next. But we’re here together, and so is our Lord.

Listen to today’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts.

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