People hate suffering.
And who could see the fault in that?
But if you’re willing to take a ride with me, I’d like to offer an alternative perspective on what is considered what is one of our greatest enemies: discomfort.
As humans, we seem pre-programmed by sin to desire our comfort above all things. This is why the struggle to control our gluttony, vanity, greed, numbing addictions, laziness and more can become lifelong battles. It is so normal in our society we do not call it what it truly is: idolatry.
We worship the easy life in the hope it will spare us the pain of distress. We become discontent with anything that complicates this goal of comfort, leading us to more sin: grumbling, complaining, gossip, self-pity, and cursing the God Who allows it.
It is fascinating to zoom out and observe my own heart. The jealousy can creep up when I perceive aspects of others’ lives to be easier than my own. I watch as families navigate life without the complications mine has. I suspect I am not the only one.
I’m going to intentionally risk some vulnerability and judgment for the sake of the truth I want to convey.
Sometimes I unload the kids out of the minivan in the heat or rain and wonder what it is like to be a mother and not have to lift an almost-teenager and his heavy wheelchair every time we need groceries. I see families have reunions and wonder if they appreciate the gift of gathering without the ache of multiple, immense losses. Their gift of joy occasionally stirs up my own pain and confusion of why God allows what He does. I watch people interact and question if life would be easier if I didn’t carry my own insecurities, distrust, and traumas. I hear of people living for decades without managing medical conditions, while our medicine cabinet overflows and our calendar is crammed with appointments to manage the complexities in our household.
Of course, these things are foolish. I hesitate to even type it out publicly for it exposes my own shameful thoughts. But I think we all do it to some degree in certain seasons of life. We look around and assume others’ lives are easier than our own, especially in the age of hiding our struggles and social media’s highlight reels.
As the old saying goes, “Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about.”
It is important to note the distinct difference in grieving the painful parts of life versus allowing those discomforts to take root as bitterness or worse. Sometimes it is a fine line to walk.
Scripture does not condemn wrestling with the questions and pain of this life. In fact, we see Psalms, Lamentations, many of the prophets, and authors of the New Testament all describe great suffering, while ultimately pointing back to the Author of all hope. (Romans 15:13)
In our modern culture, we are quick to bypass pain. This god of the American dream trickled into our churches, leading to a false prosperity gospel and churches unequipped to walk with people through great suffering.
It has left us with generational traumas and in genuine need of Christian counseling partly because it is not handled appropriately within the walls of the Church.
Suffering is part of humanity. You will not meet a person untouched by the wincing of pain. And as the masses bleed out in agony, the Church remains content to forsake the groaning, instead glorifying shallow songs worshipping victory instead of the Victor and speakers who neglect navigating lasting misery for the sole excitement of miracles.
Jesus Himself warned the religious teachers saying, “An evil and adulterous generation seeks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah.” So He left them and departed. (Matthew 16:4)
Dear friends, we cannot seek only the gifts of God instead of Him. Sometimes He removes the fire and sometimes He stands with us in it.
The Church does a disservice to the lost seeking refuge from their anguish and the saints wailing under the weight of a fallen world when it does not address how God meets them in their crisis.
Don’t misunderstand, lament is not the absence of praise. It is simply the path through pain to praise.
A few weeks ago, my son started seizing unexpectedly. Fortunately, we were across the street from a hospital.
Something breaks in you as a mother when you run through emergency room doors, carrying your limp, unresponsive child and you hear your own broken voice cry out, “Please help us!”
After several immensely stressful days, an uncommon neurological condition was added to his long list of complex diagnoses. We went home wondering how life could ever be normal again.
Last week, my husband insisted I continue with the previously planned respite trip to attend a women’s conference that greatly encourages me. In a small session about adoption, one speaker said something that caught my ear. I stayed behind to talk to her after the session was over.
I awkwardly introduced myself and blurted out how hard the last few months have been. At this point, I should stop being amazed at God’s gracious interventions in my life, but somehow, they still surprise me. Her eyes widened as she explained that her son has the exact same condition.
I crossed state lines to find that God was waiting meet me in an unplanned conversation with a stranger.
She spent a considerable amount of time with me, detailing what life looks like for them and offering advice on how to move forward. I was simultaneously encouraged at this gift from God and dismayed at the road on which we now find ourselves.
I returned to my hotel room both hopeful and grieving. The prayers groaning in my heart sum up this gift of lamenting. It is this act of carrying the confusion and pain to the Lord, full of questions and concern, but also looking back at the journey of my life to see the pattern of His goodness in the face of despair and His trustworthiness in the midst of my temptation to let go of His hand.
His promise is secure in His faithfulness not mine.
We can see throughout the Bible that suffering comes from many places. It can originate as a consequence of our own sin. Often it is a result of living in a broken world and the sin that his trickled down from lush garden leaves across the pages of time.
Our understanding of goodness can be challenged when we believe that a good God would not allow such pain.
But this is the story of the Bible.
In our sin and suffering, He does not pull away. Instead, He bends down, even becoming one of us to carry the full penalty and deliver us from it forever.
The weight of the story isn’t that He allows suffering. It is that despite our determination to wreak havoc amongst ourselves, He is moving all of history towards full restoration.
Our preoccupation with comfort exposes our idolatry. We want ease instead of the Eternal. But God flips that on its head when He declares that He is in fact the God of all comfort. He even tells us why some suffer so.
Just as the suffering of that adoptive mother pushes her further into the arms of Jesus, she now knows how to lead other hurting moms to this God of all comfort. She knows the path well enough to bring others to Him with her.
Your suffering is not for nothing.
Our journey through suffering is ultimately making us more and more like Jesus, the Man of Sorrows, Who is familiar with grief. Is this not the ultimate hope of the believer- to follow in the footsteps of our Savior? Will we count it all joy when we suffer trials of many kinds on this path to Him?
It is also giving us perspective that we can proclaim over others who suffer. We have the privilege of sitting in the dirt and pointing them to the God of all comfort Who comforts us.
I carry a mental image of a tree. When suffering is new, it feels like a small tree, planted in fresh soil. A small breeze shakes it violently, threatening to uproot it. As suffering lingers, it forces the roots deeper into the dirt. The winds and rains of life rage but it is harder to rattle the tree, for it knows its planting is secure.
After the initial shock of a sudden storm, I find that the roots of faith hold. My branches sway but His roots do not give way. I even find myself thanking God for the rough weather as it has packed the dirt tightly around the tree, knitting me closer to Him. What seems like a curse, He transforms into blessing.
My friend, if you find yourself in rain that is temporary, grieve and then rejoice that it will come to an end. If you find yourself planted in a harsh climate that ensures suffering will persist through this lifetime, grieve and then rejoice that this pain will also one day meet its final death.
He won’t leave us unscathed on this earth, rather He is pleased to strengthen our footing. The deeper the roots, the deeper the joy.
Hold tight to His hand, dear one. He will gently lead you homeward through the storm.
Great article. It helps for us to remember that god is always there with us. I find that I draw nearer to him during these times and it makes me realize that there are things we just can’t control but he is in control and has a purpose behind everything even if we can’t see it and understand it at the time.
Thanks, Carl! I love your perspective. <3 I like to joke that all trials will ultimately pass in this life or eternity. They might pass like a kidney stone, but they'll pass. Ha!
His sovereignty over all things can feel abrasive at first but it has become one of my greatest treasures in pain.