Suffering Too Well?

This morning I really needed the baseball fields. I’m still learning how to relate to God in suffering, but the fields have helped the process.

Could it be that we can try so hard to suffer well that we end up doing the exact opposite of our intention? In suffering, it is often muddled in my mind whether I am leaning on Jesus, or simply being proud and self-sufficient. I have always been a pull-up-your-bootstraps kind of girl. It feels better to handle the pain silently than become a burden to someone else or look like a nut case. 

Suffering is a fact of life. How it is done varies significantly, and the degree to which we suffer differs just as much. Some have suffered from birth and have learned how to live with it exceedingly well. And others think stubbing a toe is unbearable. No judgment, just facts. My point is not to compare suffering; but, we must consider how we are suffering. What does it look like to suffer well? Maybe it’s not what we think. 

I spent most of my life believing that the best way to suffer was to do it silently. Thankfully, I have a fairly high pain tolerance, so it comes more easily to me than some. But, silence is not always the answer when we consider what it means to suffer well with God. Sometimes it is pouring out our hearts to God (Psalm 62:8). Sometimes it is offering up all our complaints and troubles to God (Psalm 142:2). Sometimes it is weeping before God (Psalm 6:6; 6:8; 30:5). That’s a lot of emotion, a lot of mess. It would be much tidier and refined to keep it in and carry on. 

As Christians, we have a reputation to uphold; but not to the point of being hypocritical or untrue to ourselves or God. Godly appearances can sometimes be driven by hidden motivations. Jeremiah says that the heart is deceitful above all, and who can understand it (Jeremiah 17:9)? Sometimes we would rather appear like we’re holding it all together, even when we are dying inside. Pride is a strong motivator and can hinder the communion God intended for his children to experience. 

It is right to desire to be a living example that ushers glory and honor to God; but this ought to be from the overflow of God’s goodness and power, not our own. The pressure of suffering on already weak flesh is overwhelming, but the Holy Spirit provides a way to live a life pleasing to God. Our words and actions affect those around us. How we live, how we suffer, how we speak matters. 

We see this in the Psalms. “Let not those who hope in you be put to shame through me, O Lord GOD of hosts: let not those who seek you be brought to dishonor through me, O God of Israel” (Psalm 69:6). Here the Psalmist is very concerned about how his example will affect those around him. This is a contrite acknowledgment that the actions of one’s life have repercussions on the reputation of God and his faithful people. Instead of hiding in shame, we ought to be more honest about our weaknesses and more intentional of our deeds.

Paul praises the Thessalonians for the influence of their example, “And you (Thessalonians) became imitators of us and of the Lord, for you received the word in much affliction, with the joy of the Holy Spirit, so that you became an example to all the believers in Macedonia and in Achaia. For not only has the word of the Lord sounded forth from you in Macedonia and Achaia, but your faith in God has gone forth everywhere, so that we need not say anything” (1 Thessalonians 1:6-8).

This commendation reveals the compelling impact that joy in suffering can have. Words were not needed. The example of the believers, persevering through suffering, was enough to bring faith everywhere their testimony spread. Actions do speak louder than words. And their lives were proof enough that Jesus was the Good News. There is a crucial distinction here, though. That is, the fruit of joy was born by the Holy Spirit. It wasn’t through fake smiles and hidden shame. It wasn’t from gritting teeth and trying harder. Brokenness and surrender created space for God to work his goodness through their suffering. 

When I think about Jesus weeping in the garden of Gethsemane, my heart is comforted. Jesus was at his most desperate moment, and he wanted his closest friends around him. He was not afraid to let them see his “weakness,” as he shares with them his sorrowful and troubled soul (Matthew 26:37). And then, going a little farther, he falls on his face and pours out his soul to the Father, pleading for relief and release from his suffering. He goes back to his friends twice, but they are no comfort, for they are asleep. So, he turns to the One who never slumbers or sleeps. Jesus already knew the predestined plan for his death, and still, he pleads three times to be spared the suffering. 

There is something to glean here. God heard Jesus the first time. But there is catharsis when our feelings become words poured out before God, sometimes over and over again. There is a strengthening in communion when distress is shared and comfort is received. There is hope revived when human weakness is transferred to divine strength.   

So, back to the baseball fields. It’s a place I go early in the morning, in the solitude and quiet. Sometimes I weep. Sometimes I shout out in anguish. Sometimes I gaze up at the giant trees surrounding the fields. It’s where I can be alone with God.

God is a heart God. He is a God full of emotion, longing, delight and grace. We miss out, when we aren’t all in. We miss out on God, we miss out on others, and we miss out on ourselves. 

Suffering well is not a one-size-fits-all. It will look different, and that’s ok. Suffering brings us to the end of ourselves, tempting us to close our eyes and lock our hearts. Gazing up to Love is the key to living shameless and free before our King.