Suffering and pain are among the greatest mysteries in life. Many I know to be wonderful people experience more than a fair share of hurt and struggle. The old conundrum— why must bad things happen to good people? I thought about it as I read of horrendous injustices in various parts of the world. What did these people do to deserve such an existence?
I heard it explained once, and it’s been the only way I can come to grips with it. This life is a test. Not one that comes without spurts of love, fun, even euphoria. But it is full of tests. Not necessarily things you, God, want to happen, but things you let happen. How could you let these things happen?
The most profound example of love (and one I have difficulty articulating in a way not hackneyed by religion) is allowing your son to be crucified. Who would do such a thing…it’s such a common part of faith, but it’s one that can be perplexing if we take a step back and attempt to think as you thought in those moments before. And this is the very thing that’s impossible not to do— try to think as you think, reason as you reason, judge as you judge. But at what point in life do I feel I have a window into your mind…the mind of the omnipresent being who plopped me here on Earth for better or for worse. Of course your child was different. He suffered, but was resurrected.
So I must circle back. If the most pure being on Earth endured an excruciating death, what good does it do us to endure more pain? My mind’s natural explanation is to believe we feel pain, not because of God, but to grow closer to God. The more hardship I feel in life, the more likely I am to believe that this life is far from paradise. That there are peaks in life, but also deep, deep ruts. That this life cannot be all there is. It’s for this reason that I do believe something great awaits us.
This analogy from one of my favorite writers, C.S. Lewis, makes these pangs make more sense:
Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”
Since reading this, I do envision myself as “under construction.” Perpetually, I hope. Just as with changes in swimming, strokes often get slower before they get faster. Sometimes life hurts before it heals into something better than we had ever imagined. Faith is a challenge. A nonstop challenge— to believe something greater than yourself has something beautiful planned for your life…but having no idea what the steps to that calling will be. Having light on your feet, but only enough light to take one step at a time, not knowing but trusting that the next step will be illuminated for you (Psalm 119:105). Sometimes the direction you’re walking does not make sense. But the destination will make all of those scary steps worthwhile.
Comments
just read this, Bird. Hard to imagine no comments. Very mature thinking here, I believe. At my late life stage, I think much on the relevance of this life to our eternal one, and have come to much the same conclusion as you have–preparation. Because this life is all we know, it takes on a significance that absorbs us almost completely. But, by the grace of God, the limitations of our souls expand dramatically as we come to know His Son, and, by His grace, come to faith. Faith in forgiveness, in redemption, in belonging, in His Fatherhood, in the eternal future. What a journey! No pain, no gain. I love you, Annie Grevers!
Pops