Pain Has a Purpose

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Sunday, August 17th, 2025

This morning, I got bathed like a baby by the nurse. Yes, full-on sponge bath vibes, except with something way fancier than baby wipes. Apparently, there’s this magical thing called disposable antibacterial wash gloves. Soft, antiseptic, alcohol-free, basically a life hack wrapped in a wet bag. Where has this been all my life? I immediately checked out a pack on Shopee. You know, just in case I ever travel or, let’s be honest, feel too lazy to shower at home 😜

By midday, my freedom arrived. The catheter was removed, and I was finally allowed to try walking to the bathroom again. Liberation! Except, tiny detail, I felt like a bloated pufferfish. My stomach was tight, full of trapped air, and the doctor reminded me: “Mobilize. Move around. You’ll feel better once gas passes.” He also gave me pills to help me deal with it. 

So there I was, standing next to the hospital bed, summoning every ounce of strength. I thought, Yes, this is it, the grand release. And oh, it happened. Sweet relief. But then… why did my leg feel weirdly squishy? Surprise, surprise! It wasn’t just air. It was… the other kind of release. At that exact moment, my husband was sitting right beside me, happily munching on crispy duck. Suddenly, the bebek lost its b's to become just “eek.” Ewww.

Cue horror and hilarity colliding at once. I wanted to laugh, but my stomach protested. I wanted to hide, but where? Yet there he was... my husband, the picture of calm stoicism. He gently cleaning me up, rinsing off my clothes, and then… going right back to eating, like nothing had happened. No complaints, no grimace, not even a sigh. Just pure Zen. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s love, enlightenment, or both. Either way, I felt safe.

Later that afternoon, my kids arrived with my mom. We gathered in my hospital room, tuning into online Sunday service together. Pastor Alvin Rajagukguk spoke about pain and purpose. His words felt like they were aimed straight at me: pain is a gift. It signals when something’s wrong, so we don’t ignore it. It draws us closer to God’s purpose, teaching us not to dwell on the size of our suffering but to look for meaning in it. Watch the sermon here.

I’ll be honest: sometimes pain feels pointless. It just hurts. It drains. It embarrasses (see: unexpected poop incident). But maybe the point is right there: humbling us, reminding us of our limits, and nudging us toward grace we can’t generate on our own. Maybe suffering shrinks when we find humor in the mess, or when we lean into love instead of pride.

By evening, my husband switched places with our eldest daughter and my mom. He escorted my youngest back to her dorm, then headed home to prepare for his Monday marathon of meetings. Meanwhile, my eldest (thank God for her day off) would spend tomorrow keeping me company, tag-teaming with my mom. I keep thinking: what did I do to deserve this family? Their care, their presence, their patience... <3

As I sit there with a sore belly, a grateful heart, and a slightly bruised dignity, I realize something: pain really does have a purpose. It slows us down enough to notice the love around us. It reminds us we’re not built to do life alone. It teaches us that being cared for is not weakness, it’s actually a quiet kind of strength. And the foremost, to draw us closer to God's purpose. 

And if all else fails, at least pain gives you stories worth telling. I mean, who else can say they turned a poop mishap into a sermon illustration? 😁 Don’t run from your pain. Hold it gently, listen to what it’s trying to teach you, and when possible, laugh at it. Because sometimes, the holiest thing you can do in a hospital gown… is giggle (without hurting the sore belly!).

Cheers,
Nuniek Tirta



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