Once again, I am participating in a blog carnival called Seek the Lord Sunday, hosted by Daiquiri. Each week she gives us a topic to write on, that is related to seeking God. This week, the topic is to choose your own topic! Write about whatever you want, as long as it relates to seeking the Lord. Well, I have been deliberating over what I will write about all morning. All through church service, the question was in the back of my mind, and it seemed like I came up with several different ideas, but with each new one, the last one was discarded. Even as I sit here typing away, I’m not sure what this post will be about. I’ll have to title it after I’m done.

My brother had another overdose this morning. When I got off the phone with my mom the first time, I was devastated, sure that Mike’s destructive path had finally led him to the point of no return. I said to Scott, as we prepared breakfast for the kids, “I think this is really it. Unless God intervenes.” About an hour later, my mom called back and told me that the hospital staff took him off sedation and he tried to sit up in bed--he is conscious again. God intervened again, and saved my brother in spite of himself. I can only hope that this is because God knows that one day, Michael will relent, and give his life to Christ.

Even as my brother is not welcome in our home (he has an unpredictable and violent temper), thoughts of him and concern for him have been a constant preoccupation for me. I struggle with two vacillating thoughts: one is that my brother never really had a chance. The other is that God can make good of so many disasters, if the people involved would just seek Him.

When my brother was four and a half and I was a baby, our dad killed himself. He was paranoid schizophrenic, and at times, he became violent toward my mom and his own dad. At other times, there was a hint of the funny, jovial man he had been before his illness had emerged. One weekend, while my family was out of town for a vacation, he drove to his farm and shot himself. I was a baby, totally unaware of the upheaval around me. My brother, however, was just old enough to know what was going on, though probably not old enough to truly understand it--any of it--death, suicide, mental illness...  We lived in a small town, and the other kids knew the true cause of Dad’s death before Mike did (Mom wasn’t sure whether to tell him the truth or not.) Mike suffered the usual regressions that are common in kids who grieve, and that led to even more teasing and mocking from his classmates. From the very beginning, Mike was a different kind of kid--very bright, but never very inclined to obey or cooperate with his teachers or other students. He had a sadistic, though brilliant, sense of humor, which I could never appreciate as a child since it was usually employed to torment me. He fought horrendously with my mom. Finally, when my mom remarried, Mike didn’t get along with my new step-dad at all, and he moved in with my grandparents. Well, he couldn’t live any more peacefully with them than he did with us, and finally, he ended up living on his own. It was then, in his loneliness, living alone, that Mike started using the drugs offered to him by his cousin and friends. There have been many ups and downs and good and bad choices in the time since then, but it has all led him to where he is now--deeply drug-addicted, apparently having given up hope or desire of anything different. My heart breaks for him; I sometimes think he never had a chance. He is the genetic inheritor of mental illness, left to grow up under a cloud. He has never had good coping skills, and his desire to escape from his pain had led to a crippling addiction. I didn’t end up under the circumstances my brother did, even though I, too, am the daughter of an ill father, and lost him to suicide when I was young. Other students ridiculed me badly in school, as well, and I had my fair share of stupid adolescent choices and giving in to temptation. But how much of a difference did it make for Mike to have been a little boy when we lost our dad, and have to process that in his juvenile way, while I grew up with my mom’s interpretation of every event? I never questioned that my dad loved me. I never felt he had abandoned me. During my incredibly self-centered childhood, I thought he did it for me, to spare me the pain and potential harm of growing up with a father who had his illness. I don’t know if Mike grew up with that sense of self-assurance.

But there’s the other side of the coin. There are many people in the world who have suffered great tragedy, and have not ended up in the kind of hopelessness and helplessness in which my brother finds himself. We could talk about the inherent differences in personality--people who are able to see the bright side, the opportunity, even in difficult situations. People who are able to find constructive methods of coping with their pain instead of destructive methods like drugs, alcohol and promiscuity. People who do not seek to place the blame for their problems on others. And it is clear that my brother’s personality and circumstances make it more difficult for him to walk through tragedy and come out on the other side. But I think it boils down to something else.

There are many verses about hardship and what God can do with it.

To console those who mourn in Zion, To give them beauty for ashes, The oil of joy for mourning, The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; That they may be called trees of righteousness, The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified." Isaiah 61:3

And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. Romans 8:28

And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope. Romans 5:3-4

My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. James 1:2-3

And He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ's sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

There is a theme here, that when we encounter hard times (and we will encounter them, make no mistake--there will be hardship, until we either die or see the new heavens and earth come to be. If a minister ever tries to convince you that the Christian life is free of hardship, run the other way--this is a lie in the face of the truth of God’s Word!) God can make it into something good. That is the purpose we find when we go through something painful or tragic. We remind ourselves “God has purpose in this, even though I don’t know what it is.” “God will make something beautiful of this loss.” “God has promised to comfort me in times of sorrow, and to carry my burdens; I will make it through.”

It doesn’t always happen that way, though. Aside from the example of my brother (granted, his life is not yet over, and we may still see the beautiful thing God is going to do for him) we all know of people who have walked through hardship and nothing good has been evident through it. They have fallen away, or become unchangeably bitter, or just plain given up on life. So what is the difference? I think the difference harkens back to the very name of this blog carnival: Seek the Lord. The difference in the lives of those who come through a trial stronger than before, versus those who barely make it through alive, is whether they sought the Lord as they suffered. Or after. Seeking the Lord means a yielded heart. Seeking the Lord means a desire for God’s will. Seeking the Lord means an acknowledgement that He is God, He is in control, and His way is best, even if I don’t understand it now.

So this post ended up being a semi-biographical account of my brother’s life, and about getting through hardship. As I conclude, I’d like you to join me in prayer for my brother. These are the words that came to me during worship this morning, as tears poured from my eyes:

Lord, please save my brother for Your purpose. All the love in my heart for him, all the love that breaks my heart, and I know You love him infinitely more! Soften his hard heart. Open his eyes to your truth. Drown out the lies of the enemy, who would destroy Mike as a pawn, just to get at You; You are bigger than that enemy! Let my brother hear Your truth! You are mighty and victorious, and You can save Mike! Please call him to you, and save him from this addiction. Keep him alive today so he can make a decision for You. In Jesus’ name I pray, amen.