Guatemalan Journey: More thoughts on suffering. . .

There’s been some reaction to what I posted the other day, about the suffering I see down here. Maybe it’s just the pain meds I’m on for my tooth, or maybe it’s the irritation that I feel at being in pain, but I’ve been reflecting, once again on suffering.

When I’ve been in the States and describe the situations I meet in Guatemala, I often hear people say, “I could never handle that. My heart’s too tender. I’d be crying all the time.”

This has made me think about all the ways we try to avoid suffering—almost as if it weren’t an essential part of our lives as Christians. Do I believe Christ paid the price in full for my salvation? Without a doubt. But somehow, there is still a call for us to suffer.

Jesus Himself told us to take up our cross to follow Him. This is reported in Matthew, Mark and Luke, which emphasizes that this is not some optional exercise if we want to “excel” in our walk with Him. He calls all of us to this, most pointedly in Matt. 10:38 where He tells us, “Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me.” Oh, how I want to be found worthy. . .

A pastor and friend, Mitch Rayborn has recorded a song (written by Gary Driskell) called “It’s Not the Cross.” The words from the chorus sometimes haunt me:

“And if it doesn’t hurt

If it has no cost

If it doesn’t pay some kind of price

It’s not the cross.

And if it isn’t hard

If it brings no loss

If it doesn’t crucify with Christ

It’s not the cross.”

This song has convicted me on more than one occasion when I have tried to avoid legitimate suffering for the sake of my own comfort. I confess, in my flesh, I would like to ignore suffering whenever I can, and anesthetize it when I can't.

I’m not suggesting that we go out looking for more suffering. Enough comes into our lives without searching for more. What I am suggesting is that we stop doing everything we possibly can to avoid feeling the pain of living in a fallen world. I am suggesting that we not turn away when we see suffering of others for the sake of our own comfort and for fear of a broken heart.

Let me be clear. While I see an enormous amount of suffering and pain down here, that doesn’t make me a better follower of Christ. I may not avoid the pain by refusing to engage with those that are suffering, but I fight a constant battle to “show up” each day with my whole heart. I struggle each day not to “harden my heart” even as I respond to the need. It would be all too easy to become “professional,” meeting needs effectively, but never really sharing in the suffering of those I meet. I know good people who accomplish much, but have disengaged from their hearts. Honestly, I think I could still accomplish much without feeling the need, but I would be missing out. This surely wasn’t the way Jesus ministered.

You see, it’s not just about meeting needs. It’s about being part of the Body of Christ which is still hurting and struggling to make it through this life to reach the next. Paul instructs us to “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” (Gal. 6:2) Not just help out materially, not just “fix” what is broken and move on, but to carry each other’s burdens. That implies relationship and personal involvement. I love the way it is said in The Message: ”Stoop down and reach out to those who are oppressed. Share their burdens, and so complete Christ's law. If you think you are too good for that, you are badly deceived.”

I’m afraid that we, as Christians, have not been taught how to effectively confront suffering. We avoid it (do you turn the station when pictures of starving children come on TV?). We placate it, getting superficially involved in some way with those who are hurting, but always guarding our hearts and keeping our distance from real relationship with them. Some of us even resort to blaming people for their own suffering: “If they just worked harder.” “They got themselves into this situation, let them get themselves out.”

I’m so glad Christ didn’t feel that way. I got myself into sin, but He stooped down and reached out and became sin to rescue me from eternal pain. He did this through greater suffering than I can imagine. I can’t, as much as my emotions would like me to, avoid His call to me to do the same when I meet those who are suffering. I can’t serve from a safe distance when He gave His all, His very life, to bring me new life.

So how do I respond to those who say, “I could never do that, it hurts too much.” Usually I say nothing, knowing how often that has been my own response. But I do use it to remind myself that it’s not about living a safe and protected life. He tells me, again in Matthew, Mark and Luke, “For whoever wants to save their life will lose it. . .”

Confronted with suffering, and my own selfish desire to escape even second-hand pain, I reflect on a comment a friend, Daryl Fulp, made to his daughter when she was overwhelmed by the needs of the kids at Hermano Pedro: