From Disappointment to Divine Appointment

Note: (A deep-dive conversation of this post, courtesy of Notebooklm follows)

“Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.” —Khalil Gibran

Albert Einstein once said that one of the most important questions we can ask is whether the universe is a friendly place. From my own life experience—and in witnessing the lives of others—I would answer with a tentative yes. As Ken Wilber puts it, “Context is everything.” The way we frame the events of our lives determines how we interpret them. Whether we see an outcome as good or bad often depends on the lens we use.

From a purely material perspective, getting what I want is considered a win. Getting what I don’t want is a loss. It’s easy to find agreement around this preferences-met vs. preferences-denied formula for happiness. If we heal, land the job, win the race—we feel successful. If not, it seems life has failed us. We all know this scorecard well.

But what if our purpose here isn’t about getting what we want, but discovering who we truly are?

In other words, our interpretation of life’s events—positive or negative—depends on what we believe is our ultimate purpose. If we prioritize spiritual growth over personal preference, then even painful circumstances can become catalysts for awakening. Again and again, we find evidence that adversity opens the heart and shifts our perception, revealing what truly matters.

When we experience a significant loss, our assumptions about life are challenged. Our sense of security, identity, and even mortality is brought under review. If we’ve identified with status, success, or roles, their loss compels us to ask: Who am I without these? Who am I without money, without my health, without a title or position? When stripped of outer definitions, we’re invited into a deeper truth—a chance to rediscover the unshakable core of our being.

A Course in Miracles poses a powerful question:

“What could you not accept, if you but knew that everything that happens, all events, past, present and to come, are gently planned by One Whose only purpose is your good?"

That’s a radical perspective. But if we’re willing to pause before reacting to life’s challenges, we may find they’re leading us to more fertile ground—a land not just promised, but possible.

The Israelites faced many such trials on their journey. They longed for evidence of safety and provision, but what truly strengthened them was daily, moment-by-moment trust. As the Psalmist writes, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding… and He will direct your path.”

In my life, I’ve known both heartbreak and setback—personally and in those I’ve ministered to. I’ve pounded the ground in frustration and witnessed others doing the same. And yet, I’ve also seen what happens when we stop resisting and ask instead: “What is this situation inviting me to see and how can it bring me closer to knowing my true divine self?” That shift changes everything. We widen our lens. We begin to suspect that the pain has purpose, that it might be part of a larger unfolding—one that calls us closer to the Source.

The path of transformation often begins with reluctance. Like many heroes in spiritual journeys, we resist the “narrow gate” of realization. But what if our most difficult seasons are invitations to discover the “good bones” of the soul beneath what was torn down? When the vicissitudes of life strip away layers of identity, it lays bare the bones of our Being. This is echoed in Jesus' radical proclamation, “losing one self in order to find it”. The self that can be lost is not the true self of us.

This is a kind of alchemy. Adversity, rather than poisoning the spirit, becomes the fire that purifies it. The heart breaks—but in doing so, it rents the veil of separation between who we thought we were and who we truly are. When we lose what can be lost, we uncover what cannot be taken away.

Would that not be a divine appointment?

It’s from that higher vantage point that we begin to see: despite appearances, the light within us shines brighter than before. And we know—deep in our bones—that this journey, difficult as it may be, has brought us home.

Namaste,

Rev. Larry

A deep-dive conversation of this article, courtesy of Notebooklm