There has been an interesting shift in my understanding of suffering over the course of the past year. It is a shift that is downright offensive to my sensibilities and human nature, and I have fought against it for much of my life. I’ve come to understand that pain and suffering can be a gift; when held in the hands of our good and loving Father, it can be transformed into an invitation into something greater than we could ever imagine. I’m not saying that pain is by any means innately good or that we should seek it out, but I’ve come to believe that our experience of pain can be a catalyst for beauty and joy.
I don’t believe in a God who vindictively afflicts us with pain or causes our suffering—I believe that pain and suffering are natural consequences of life in a fallen and sinful world, and that, as Alister McGrath puts it, “the suffering of the world grieves God.” But I do believe that as a part of His redemptive plan for our lives and the world, God works IN our pain to accomplish truly beautiful and wonderful things. Pain is not “good,” but our God most certainly is; and I’ve come to believe that it’s in the midst of our pain that His goodness shines brightest.
Not too long ago I was blindsided by a painful interpersonal experience that ripped open some old wounds and left me feeling like I’d been sucker punched in the gut. Still reeling from the pain and left with plenty of time to sit with what had just happened, I felt myself begin to react.
Now, I tend to react to such pain in two ways: I withdraw and put up walls, or I fight back (passive aggressively, of course… I’m a Minnesotan after all). Most of the time I tend to alternate between those two responses about every 3 or 4 seconds, and pure internal chaos ensues.
In this particular situation, after a few minutes of playing emotional ping-pong in my mind I had what I like to call a “2×4 moment”—those moments when it feels like God snaps me out of my own craziness by knocking me upside the head with a 2×4 (in the most loving way possible, of course).
“HEY, SNAP OUT OF IT! You’re missing it; You’re missing what I want to invite you into!”
My instinct is to take my pain and go inward with it; to control and self-protect. I operate from the misguided belief that maybe if I put up high enough walls, the pain won’t be able to get to me anymore… or that if I hold on to it tightly enough, I can wield my pain like a weapon instead of letting it be used against me.
But in that moment, I felt God inviting me to handle my pain in a different way; instead of pushing it away or closing my grip around it, He was inviting me to take my pain in open hands and hold it up to Him. Instead of allowing the pain to turn me inward to a place of isolation and despair, God was inviting me to let my pain be a catalyst to propel me toward Him… or rather, to a greater awareness of His presence with me.
What we want to do is either fight against the suffering or ignore it. What Jesus asks is something quite different. Taking up our cross is not, in the final analysis, choosing between whether to suffer or not. That choice is not ours. But we can choose to acknowledge the suffering rather than ignore it. And while holding it, we can choose to look toward God. If we do, we discover God looking toward us… It is in the midst of our suffering and weakness that Christ is most present. – David Benner, Desiring God’s Will
Pain can be an invitation. When we encounter pain in this life, we are invited to encounter Jesus, because—if we let Him—He meets us in our pain in a special way. When we are confronted with our wounds, we are invited to bring them to Him—to the true Source of healing.
One of the things that has been seared into my mind from undergraduate Athletic Training classes is that pain itself is not the problem. As much as we try to avoid and numb it, our ability to experience pain is actually a gift.
There is a rare condition that renders a person unable to feel physical pain. Sounds great, right? As someone whose body seems to always have something to complain about on any given day, an inability to feel pain—even just for a day—sounds like a wonderful thing! But without the experience of pain, such individuals sustain serious injuries without even being aware that something is wrong. See, pain isn’t the problem—pain alerts us to the problem.
We know that pain serves the vital biological function of alerting us to injury and the need for treatment… In the same way suffering serves a vital spiritual function. It reminds us of our mortality, preventing us from entertaining delusions about our nature and our future. – Alister McGrath, Suffering and God
The pain and suffering that we experience in this life—in whatever form it comes—alerts us to a problem: we live in a fallen and broken world, and things are not as they ought to be. If that were where the story ended, then our pain and suffering would in no way be a blessing. But the blessing that can be found is not in the pain itself, but in the One to whom our pain can point us. Each time that we experience pain and suffering in this life, we are invited to take that pain to the Great Physician. Pain makes us aware of the problem—our own brokenness and the brokenness of the world we live in—so that we can bring it to the One who can provide true healing.
But we need to take this one step further, because there’s a difficult reality which we must face: we don’t always receive healing from the pains that we experience in this life. The pages of God’s redemptive story—both in His inspired Word, and in the testimony of His Church throughout the past 2000 years—are filled with the stories of God’s faithful people who have experienced deep pain and suffering that was not alleviated in their days on Earth. If our idea of the “ultimate good” is our healing and restoration in this life, then we will likely be left disappointed. And if our “ultimate good” is merely the hope of a Heaven where pain and suffering will be no more, then our hope is too small. Because the pinnacle of God’s gift to us is not the restoration of our bodies or minds, but our restoration to unity with Him. He is our Ultimate Good.
Just the privilege of fellowship with God is more than anything God could give. When He gives Himself He is giving more than anything else in the universe. – Brother Lawrence, Practicing His Presence
There is a strange and counterintuitive reality in which the good times in our lives have the potential to actually draw us away from God. When things are good we can grow complacent and comfortable, and we begin to forget our deep need for God. It is a slow drift away from a mindset of dependency, toward an illusion of independence and self-sufficiency. But pain has a way of pulling us out of that complacency, it demands that we act; we will either move away from God in anger, or move toward Him in desperation.
Suffering sets us on our own with God; it strips away our assurance and brings us face-to-face with God. With all the props of our faith stripped away, we learn to trust God and lean upon him alone… It brings us back to him by removing everything which we put in his place. – Alister McGrath, Suffering and God
When we recognize God as our Ultimate Good, anything that draws us closer to Him becomes a gift; not on its own merit, but on His. Suffering has a unique potential to dismantle the walls of self-sufficiency that keep us from deeper intimacy with Him. But let’s just be real, that can be a hard pill to swallow; it can be incredibly difficult to trust God in the midst of our suffering—to trust that He can and will bring beauty out of our pain. But I believe that as we make the choice to—in faith—bring our pain to Him with open hands, we will begin to see the in-breaking of His Light into even our greatest darkness.
In his wisdom God uses life’s painful misfortunes to drain us of self-sufficiency and lead us to trust and depend on him. In the mystery of providence, our difficult trials offer opportunities for healing, transformation and empowerment for service. Pain leads us to seek God and his purpose for our lives with greater intention. – Bruce Demarest, Seasons of the Soul
Paramutheomai 