Only recently has God revealed to me the purpose of the pain I went through in 1989.  For years I attributed the betrayal to random misfortune, but more recently the Father spoke to me about that, helping me to see that it related to my dreams. Our conversation went something like this:

"I worked so hard to help get my friend's ministry off the ground.  It shouldn't have been as complicated as it was.  It wasn't fair."

"And you're hurt because of that."

"Well, yes."

"Don't you see how that incident was my tool in your life?"

"Yeah, yeah.  'All things work together for good.'  It's one of those."

"Wait, were you happy where you were working before what you perceived as betrayal?"

"Not really."

"Exactly my point. That was me behind the pain you felt.  It was an answer to your prayers."

"Is it me, or does that sound crazy?  When did I ever ask you for that kind of pain?"

"You asked me to use you to change the world, right?"

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with the pain of betrayal?"

"Your dreams were too small.  To help change the world, I needed to get rid of your small dreams to make room for the big dreams I wanted to give you. And you needed an internship before you could start AIM."

"What does that have to do with the pain I felt?"

"That pain was my tool, clearing out the underbrush of your small dreams in your heart to make room for my God-sized dreams."

"But why couldn't I have gotten rid of them myself?"

"Because you were clinging to them too tightly.  Your dream of recognition and financial security took up too much room in your heart.  It needed to be cleared out so that I could give you my dreams of raising up young people and caring for orphans."

"So my friend who betrayed my trust was actually your tool?  I don't like it."

"You wanted to be able to cling to the hurt and the dream, but they couldn't coexist."

"Why is that?"

"Because of a lesson you're only now beginning to get your arms around after all these years later."

"Which is?"

"I can't trust you with my dreams until I can trust you with pain."

"That's a hard lesson, Lord.  I guess I should say, thank you."

"You're welcome.  There's a terrible beauty in all this; as long as you keep seeking more, you're going to find me answering your prayers."