As I write this, I’m in an emotional pit created by a
combination of sleepless nights, chronic depression, seasonal depression, and
situational depression. In the midst of this, I started reading Embodied Hope: A Theological Meditation on
Pain and Suffering, by Kelly Kapic. Although he writes from the perspective
of those dealing with physical suffering, much of what he says can be applied
to almost any situation. From the back cover, “Too often the Christian attitude
toward suffering is characterized by a detached academic appeal to God’s
sovereignty, as if suffering were a game or a math problem.” I would describe
the book as an appeal to Christians to comfort those who mourn, not with
theological treatises or vague platitudes, but by coming alongside the sufferer
and entering into their pain. Following are some quotes:
“Even if we had in hand a
theodicy [theology reconciling God’s goodness and our pain] that made sense,
such dispassionate philosophical explanations leave us empty when we walk in
the fire and ashes of genuine suffering. While there is a time to carefully
dissect these philosophical problems, that time is not normally with those who
are suffering” (ch. 2).
“Claims to provide the
reason for a specific experience of suffering abound: divine discipline, for
the purpose of church renewal, to bring a watching nurse or neighbor to
salvation, or to foster personal humility. Unfortunately, all these claims are
made without the true knowledge of exactly why something is happening. Even if
these suggestions contain an element of truth, we are not in a position to
unpack the mind of God regarding such mysteries… Such explanations assume that
some good outcome can nullify or justify the pain, but this is not so. A
tragedy is still a tragedy; pain is still pain, even if some insight is gained
in the process” (ch. 2).“Each person is coming from a different circumstance, with
specific challenges and needs, with individual strengths and temptations. Part
of loving well is figuring out what response is needed and appropriate in a
given circumstance (see Jude 22-23). This is where theological instincts and
pastoral wisdom come together. To be pastoral does not mean earning money for working in a church… Pastoral in this sense refers to the
ability to give wise counsel, to know how to love well, provide necessary
guidance, and in the end to help a fellow believer flourish under God’s grace
and love” (ch. 2).
Even as our hearts can be prone to question, filled with
dread and doubt, let us take confidence that our God personally understands us,
not hypothetically but concretely in Christ. Jesus wept tears, for in and
through his incarnate life he had fully entered into the drama of fallen human
experience. His ache and struggle give new meaning to our tears and suffering:
God cares about our sin and distress so much that he enters into it himself”
(ch. 7).
“Living within this story
means that we strengthen our weakened sisters and brothers by drawing them to
and reminding them of the word, presence, and action of the triune God,
becoming avenues of God’s grace and mercy… The Christian life requires not an
individual but a people—the people of God. Only together can we believe, hope,
and love amid our struggles” (ch. 9).
“Amid such difficult seasons
of life, [Martin] Luther understood that the fog of doubt often obscures the
believer’s vision: accordingly, the taunts of hell often grow louder during
those periods. He recognized this because he lived it himself… He wrote, ‘I
almost lost Christ in the waves and blasts of despair and blasphemy against
God, but God was moved by the prayers of saints and began to take pity on me
and rescued my soul from the lowest hell.’ Luther knew that in times of
physical and emotional distress saints often struggle to believe and are
afflicted with confused images of God and his work in the world. During such
seasons the Christian leans heavily on the faith and prayers of other saints,
for by them one is sustained or even ‘rescued’” (ch. 9).
“[Martin Lloyd-Jones and
others] counseled their followers to preach to themselves and embrace the good
news of Jesus and his kingdom. Still, the weakness of this prescription, taken
by itself, is that it is overly individualistic, ignoring our nature as members
of a larger body, and thus also inherently unstable when isolated.
Lloyd-Jones’s assertion that ‘the main art in the matter of spiritual living is
to know how to handle yourself’ ignores the problem that we don’t always know
how to handle ourselves, nor can we be trusted to handle ourselves. We need
others” (ch. 10).
“Each case has its own distinct shape and needs its own
response. But each of them brings
its own real trauma. Each person will deal with it differently: some in
silence, some in outbursts of rage, some with an athletic commitment to beat
the grief, some with a sense of shame, and still others trying to discover a
stoic detachment. What those who are trying to help do not always appreciate is
that there is real power in simply walking with another person through that
particular experience, bearing witness to the real challenges” (ch. 11).
“Witnessing one another’s
pain also offers us the ability to find rest… When a friend shares my outrage I
am actually quieted; I am allowed to rest, for someone else has taken up the
concern. But if their response is ‘That is no big deal,’ and I am sure it
actually is a big deal, then my irritation and frustrations grow rather than
diminish. What I need is not for someone to tell me everything is okay; I need
them to acknowledge that something is wrong—that I am not insane, but a real
problem is at hand… The witness doesn’t actually make the pain go away, doesn’t
actually fix everything, but I no longer feel isolated” (ch. 11).
“Christians with similar
pains may have good things to say to their fellow sufferers. However, often
what ends up happening is one person’s suffering trumps another’s, undermining
the loss instead of offering true comfort… Why did such well-meaning offerings
trigger in me a nasty train of thought? They were only trying to help… What I
discovered was that suffering isn’t a contest, and comparing can often leave
one person feeling guilty and the other bitter… However, even in our very
similar circumstances, we must carry our sufferings to Christ” (ch. 11).
***
At various times I’ve experienced people theologizing,
minimizing, avoiding, or giving the “Everything’s gonna be alright” speech.
Those are the people I generally want to avoid. I’ve also experienced those who
pray for me, ask genuine questions about my wellbeing, and quietly point to
God’s loving care even while I express my doubts and fears. They may not be
able to fully enter into the valley with me, but they aren’t just shouting at
me from the mountaintop. As Kapic concludes chapter 10:
“May we, as the people of God, care for one another in love.
May we truly be the body of Christ. May we confess our sins to one another,
offering honesty, grace, and transformed lives. Let us love one another in
grace and truth. We are sinners. We are under the cross. Here is our hope. May
it be so.”
***
Listen to I Will Wait for You (Psalm 130) by Keith and Kristyn Getty.
© 2022 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture
are ESV. Book cover courtesy of Amazon.com. The opinions stated do not
necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.
