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Suffering that Matters

When earthly pain produces eternal results.

 

No pain, no gain.

That was scrawled across the billboard on the wall of the weight room in my high school. It wasn’t my favorite saying because pain was never high on my list of priorities. I hated to work out in school. I was 150 pounds soaking wet and couldn’t bench press anywhere near my body weigh, so pumping iron was not my domain. In my twenties, I began to lift more, and in my thirties is when it became a regular part of my life. I learned that the purpose of lifting weights is to tear muscle, only to have it grow back together stronger and able to withstand more stress and weight.

Even in my thirties, it wasn’t my idea of a good time. I much preferred going to the gym and sitting at the smoothie bar. I could sit back, sip my açaí protein shake and talk to other people about fitness. That was much more palatable to me than actually diving in and pushing myself to the point of pain. I mean, what’s really the point of that? To have sculpted six-pack abs? To chisel my arms?

No pain, no gain.

As is often the case, what is true at the gym is true in life. I want to become the best version of myself, but I want it on my terms. And when life becomes too heavy, I drop the weights and remind myself that it’s not worth it. I’d rather occupy a permanent residence at the smoothie bar of life and not experience any pain or suffering. I want to eat what I want to eat and do what I want to do. But unfortunately, life doesn’t provide me the pain-free existence that I often work so hard to secure.

The question of the issue of pain is forged in our modern post-Enlightenment construct. In the centuries prior, the universality of pain and suffering was so prevalent that people more readily recognized the need and dependance on a deity to make some sense of the uncertainty. When every day was a gift and death could come with no warning, it compelled a greater sense of the world beyond.

Not so in our modern context. We are far too comfortable and self-sufficient.

We are fed a consistent diet of our own pleasure and comfort, so suffering comes as a surprising and unwelcome bedfellow. We resist it and run from it, we deny it and dress it up. We avoid it at all cost, but when it comes we find ourselves adrift.

There’s a reason for this: we have no framework for pain. We have no theology of suffering.

If we’re honest, we view it as a nuisance. It seems like a distraction, a waste of time. We are consumed with our own viewpoint of how our lives should go. And then when it doesn’t we feel cheated. We wonder where God is, and why life is unfair.

Before we go any further, let’s be honest: we have ALL felt this way at one time or another. When life is going smoothly, all is well in the world. But then pain and suffering arise and we feel the sting of injustice. We confront life in all of its fallen state, and we long for God’s resolution.

Pain reminds us that we are not home yet. Suffering reminds us that there is more work to be done in the formational construction project of our soul. And for some reason that lies far beyond our comprehension, pain and suffering serve as two of God’s most effective tools for our own growth and personal development.

No pain, no gain.

Take a moment and think about your life. Chances are, when you think about the times that you grew the most were times of trial and tribulation. When you think of the times that you learned to trust God more profoundly than ever before, it was a season of the refining fire of pain. Death or divorce, sickness or sadness, these circumstances bring us to our knees, where we discover that God is there with us.

He knows what we’re going through because He went through it. And more.

The beauty of the Christian worldview is that we worship a God who is not far removed in a distant galaxy, hoping that we might find our way home. No, the God of the Bible calls Himself Immanuel—literally God with us—and came to save us because we couldn’t save ourselves. And He promises that the pain that we experience in this fallen existence is not random, meaningless or permanent.

Every moment, every ounce of our suffering carries great meaning and eternal purpose.

Jesus’ half-brother James attests to this truth in the first chapter of his letter when he writes these words: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.” (James 1:2-3)

Wait a second. Pure joy? Consider my trials and pain as PURE JOY?

No thanks, I’m good.

But hold on. Before you click out of this page and the dronings of a pastor who has clearly lost his bearings, let me remind you of one thing: you need this more than you know.

You need to know that your life matters. That your pain matters. That your suffering is not meaningless. That what you are going through is not just a cruel, random trick of the Universe or the dastardly snakebite of karma.

You need to know that the God of the Universe sees you. He knows your pain. And that He is with you in the midst of it. He loves you so much that He chooses to camp out in the pain with you. And it is often at the deepest of our despair that we discover Him—and His comfort—in ways that we never would have otherwise known.

This is the turning point that gives us hope. The question of how a good God could allow suffering now turns to how that same God could love us so much that He would endure unspeakable pain to redeem us.

Our God is not unacquainted with pain. Instead, He embodied it. He was known as the Suffering Servant in Isaiah 53. He invites us to meet him in our sufferings because that is where He chooses to dwell.

Remember this the next time your heart is heavy with grief and your pillow is wet with tears. Remember this when the doctor calls with bad news or when your spouse informs you that your marriage is over. Remember this when your body fails and your mortality looms.

Christ suffered so that our suffering would one day end. And His promise, the promise of Heaven, is that we will never experience another ounce of pain when we are home with Him in Glory. This is our hope and assurance, written in the red letters of Christ’s blood.

Suffer well, fellow pilgrim. It will all be worth it.