Maybe it’s just the Montreal winter-too long and too cold this year. Maybe it’s an unfortunate combination of events or the alignment of the planets. Or maybe it’s because I’m listening more, watching more.
Whatever the reason, what I see and what I hear is misery. Pain. Suffering.
Joanne and Cathy* are struggling with broken marriages. Joanne is still fighting to put Humpty Dumpty together again; Cathy is going through the lonely process of disentangling and healing from the abuse.
A few weeks ago I accompanied Daniel as he admitted himself to the hospital for depression. He was crying like a baby, overwhelmed by life.
My friend Jennifer went to the Bahamas for a holiday, looking for peace and stability. She ended up buying an island while she was there, but she still brought her angst and soul-hunger back with her.
Robert told me on the phone the other day that his shoulder muscles are torn from 20 years of pushing his wheelchair and doing his transfers, and now he has to do physiotherapy on top of it all. The pain is constant.
I read an article on the weekend in a World Vision magazine about children selling sex to tourists in the Dominican Republic. I was outraged by the inconceivable obscenity of abuse. I cried over the violation of young bodies, young hearts, young dreams.
I know that philosophers and theologians have debated the question of suffering for centuries. In fact, I have spent time recently reading and discussing the subject of the purpose of pain with a few close friends. I can point to passages that present what we may see as ultimate benefits: through suffering our faith is tested and strengthened; we develop perseverance; we learn to rely on God; we long for heaven; Christians develop a greater sense of community; God displays His worthiness to angels and demons when Christians remain loyal to Him in the bad times.
In fact, as Christians we tend to become so set on getting value back from our pain that we impart a certain nobility and dignity to suffering, and to those who accept and persevere in the face of great personal discomfort. We have developed a sense of admiration for the spiritual grandeur we associate with misery.
But I fear we have lost sight of the obvious.
Pain hurts. Suffering sucks. You may find the language offensive and vulgar. I do. That’s why I use it sparingly. And that’s why I use it for suffering, because suffering is offensive and vulgar. It is contrary to God’s nature, and contrary to our own. That is why we moan and groan with all of creation under the pain of it.
When God created Adam and Eve, He did not place them in a torture chamber, but rather in the Garden of Eden, a place we call paradise. The food was tasty; the work was easy; the sex was good.
Paradise was lost when people sinned and broke their relationship with God. So Jesus came to set things right again-to provide a way for reconciliation to God and, interestingly, relief from suffering. As I read the gospels, I see a man who hit His thumb more than once with a hammer, who mourned the loss of His father, who had been taunted and mocked because He was different. And as Jesus talks about the eternal kingdom, He heals the sick, encourages the downcast, frees the oppressed. In fact, I have not yet found a time when Jesus says to someone in pain, “Put up with it. It’s good for you.”
Ultimately, Jesus took on the role of man of sorrows, acquainted with grief-the one who we see tortured mercilessly in Mel Gibson’s disturbingly realistic portrayal-not to perpetuate suffering, but to eliminate it.
Those tears I cry today, for Cathy and Daniel and the children, and for me, are real. And someday, those nail-scarred hands, reminiscent of the blood and tear-streaked face and the broken heart, will wipe my tears away.
As I learn to follow the compassionate, redeeming example of Jesus, I have a few tears to wipe away myself. So I ask God to heal and deliver those who are battling pain and demons. I listen, I hug, I hurt with my friends who are bleeding in their hearts and aching in their bodies. I invest time, energy and money to alleviate suffering because suffering sucks. That I can and must do.
Unfortunately, I cannot do anything about this Montreal winter.
*Names have been changed
