Minimizing Suffering

"My story is not as bad as theirs."

"It could be worse."

"It really was not that bad."

"It’s over, so why talk about it?"

One of the common ways we respond to pain (ours or others’) is by attempting to make it small by minimizing the way we talk, think, or even feel about real events in our lives. I speak not as a self-made expert, but more as a grace-drenched hypocrite.

I often respond to my own story by trying to avoid or minimize my suffering (past, current, future). I have learned to do this quite naturally; it takes very little effort for me to say, “Everything is going well” or to share, in a brief recap, how I am working through or have worked through deep hurts or struggles. It feels shallow and distant, but safe. To share how I am presently suffering or struggling and without solution is a whole other story. To talk about past pain in a way that is not resolved gives me a headache and feels very vulnerable and risky. I do this as if it were unnatural to suffer.

Is it unnatural to suffer? Does a baby not first cry when emerging from the womb? Does God not come to heal the sick (Matthew 9:12-13), restore the broken (Isaiah 61), bring sight to the blind (Matthew 11:4-6), adopt lost/rebellious children (Romans 8:15, Ephesians 1:5), welcome the wayward (Luke 15:11-32), give abundant life (John 10:9-11), bring good news to the poor, wipe every tear (Revelation 21:4), set the prisoner free (Psalm 146:7)? It may feel unnatural to suffer, but the reality is that suffering is something we are all very familiar with. This familiarity taps into what draws my heart so deeply to Isaiah 61:

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion— to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified. They shall build up the ancient ruins; they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations. - Isaiah 61:1-4

Do these verses not tap into something deep within your soul?! Over and over the Bible does not belittle, leave out, or minimize suffering. God’s Word is not at all silent on suffering and speaks freely about pain, broken relationships, suffering, disease, illness, pride, poverty, isolation, oppression, and sin. Jesus boldly and freely declares His intentions to heal, free, and restore. By minimizing the suffering and pain in our stories, we widen our deepest wound - separation from God. We also deepen our isolation from others. He offers deep restoration and healing that responds to pain – fully and authentically. He offers a way that does not require deceiving ourselves or others through minimization. He offers hope that inclines our hearts to believe that we are not as hopeless or as enslaved or as “too far gone” as we may think.

How do we live in the reality of our deep need for God and others over self-reliance? It will take boldness to be vulnerable and courage to have hope. We will need a dose (even just a mustard-seed’s worth!) of faith in Jesus Christ, which we can ask Him for. We will risk exposure, but in the risk, God responds, and He will, no doubt, invite you and others to do the same. He may invite you to turn from sin or to reject sinful responses to suffering (in yourself or others). He will probably expose lies you have believed and use others to give sight where you have been blind. He will want to go to your deepest hurts and He will surely invite you to new life.

"I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved and will go in and out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” – John 10:9-11

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Some questions that can help us begin the process of really looking and talking honestly about our suffering:

What would it look like for me to be honest in my suffering (past, present, future)?

What am I covering up in my heart by denying or minimizing my suffering?

How might God respond to my pain; what might He be calling me to in my suffering?

Who might I be able to invite into my story?

Originally written for karishouse.org

Weeds

As I approached the garden, I could see where weeds had sprung up; there were not many, but, even so, I could tell that they were there. Just looking at the weeds, they appeared weak and easy to manage, but once I began to tug and pull, I quickly realized that these weeds had thick roots that were very deep, strong, and alive. In fact, their roots were deeper and stronger than some of the desired plants that were growing in the garden. My job that day was to get down to the root of the weeds, in order to completely remove the weed along with its roots.

Pulling weeds is a hard, laborious work, digging up roots, using rough tools, and exerting all my strength and effort often did not get the root free from the ground. There were also times where the root broke and only a part of the weed was released from the garden. These times were disappointing, knowing that my hard work only removed the surface of the weed, leaving its strong root system, which was sure to thrive and quickly grow back.

I remember feeling that it was good and beneficial to do the hard work of ridding the garden of its weeds, but, even so, there remained a biting reality that no matter how hard I worked and how well I uprooted weeds, some weeds were sure to grow back and new weeds were sure to join the garden in due time.

As I reflect on my day of pulling weeds, I recognize a familiar tune between a garden and my daily life. So often, the undesirable parts, “weeds”, of my life, be it my sin or my suffering, seem small or weak on the outside, but prove thick-rooted and deep once pursued further. I might exert all my energy to uprooting deep weeds in my life, only to find new ones pop up or old ones return. I can easily get lost in the task of getting rid of weeds. Weeding – in a garden or in my life – often feels necessary or urgent, but quickly becomes insurmountable if I solely focus my attention on weeding.

Weeding a garden does not sustain or create the glory of a garden. In fact, weeding is only a task of the garden, not to be confused with the key ingredients that actually create and sustain the glory of a garden.

C.S. Lewis speaks of a garden’s glory:

“It (the garden) teems with life. It glows with colour and smells like heaven and puts forward at every hour of a summer day beauties which man could never have created and could not even, on his own resources, have imagined…And when the garden is in its full glory the gardener’s contributions to that glory will still have been in a sense paltry (insignificant) compared with those of nature.”

What Lewis is getting at is that the greater work of the garden is yielded to a force far beyond our contribution. Without sunlight, soil in which life can grow, rain, air, etc., the garden ceases to exist. The garden, like us, is dependent on God to offer far greater care and growth than we can even dream, imagine, or desire. Does that mean that the gardener’s work (pulling weeds, breaking dirt, encouraging here, discouraging there) is unnecessary? No, not at all, as it is the gardener’s work that makes a garden a separate thing from mere wilderness.

However, our work in the garden is our response to what has already been set in motion by the God of the universe. In the beginning, before there was man, and before there was a garden, there was a God who purposefully set things in motion (Genesis 1-2). He purposefully created and now sustains all. We are not creator, nor even sustainer, but are, instead, invited to life-giving intimacy with and dependence on The Creator and The Sustainer and to receive, from Him, life that only He can give.

“Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” No one comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6

Jesus knows complete intimacy and perfect communion with the Father, and yet He came to earth, in the form of a man, had no sin, yet died a sinner’s death on a cross, and defeated death through His resurrection. Even the weeds behold a glory that is beyond our understanding. Even the weeds are pointing to something, someone far greater at work.

“Let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” Hebrews 12:1-2

The glory of a garden is not in the work of the gardener, but rather in its dependence on a Source far greater and offers far more than we ourselves can provide. So it is with us – we were created dependent on a Source far greater than ourselves; we were made to depend on Him.

----Originally written for karishouse.org