Her question paused my spirit last night. Not because I wasn’t prepared for its arrival, but rather because of the pain that was attached to its speaking. It is a pain that often fastens itself to questions that root the deepest—questions that linger hard and long in the murky waters of uncertainties. Questions that surround a soul with a needful longing for clarity. Questions that require our participation because our minds and our hearts are equally invested in the answers therein.
It’s not easy to entreat them … to be the recipient of hard questions. Still and yet, it is a privilege to be trusted with their asking, for in doing so, we are given the rare privilege of influence. Of speaking something of worth and value into a pain that is intent on consumption … on paralysis, on keeping a soul from moving beyond its confinement.
That is what I faced last night. A suffering moment that required a wisdom beyond my years and my limited understanding about why life sometimes seems to portion out raw and rough and rude, almost always with inadequate notice. Her question doesn’t breathe in isolation. I’ve been receiving many of them as of late. They seem to find me, despite my inability to “fix” anything to the contrary. And last night, as I tossed and turned and tumbled her question over in my mind, I had a thought as it pertains to this “answering” of pain. It has stayed with me throughout the day.
Pain deserves the truth. Not preferences.
Read it again, and pause to consider its worth.
Pain deserves the truth. Not preferences.
You and I are living in a pain-saturated society. If not our personal pain, then the pain of a people we love … a people we commune with, celebrate life with, go to church with, work with, shop with, “internet” with, share our resources with, partake in this world with. We are a people living with pain’s insistence, and when it comes knocking, it warrants our respect, our notice, and our involvement. It means to do so.
Pain’s knocking is our invitation to involvement. Rarely do we welcome its intrusion, but almost always are we forced to swallow its intention. Thus, pain deserves more than our menial attempts at soothing. Pain deserves more than our coddling preferences that band-aid the ache without ever touching the wound. Pain deserves more than our religious speak and our fast forward approaches to its release.
Pain deserves the truth.
And lest we think that any truth will do (for many are prone in their thinking that truth seeds relative), there is only one truth worthy of a pain’s trust … a pain’s receiving … a pain’s taking. It is not a truth embedded in philosophy. A truth not formulated by man’s attempt at having life make sense. A truth not vetted or promoted on the talk show circuit. A truth not rooted in a guru or a mantra or a set of rules for “becoming a better you.”
None of these “truths” are ample enough, strong enough, steady and sure enough to answer the problem of pain. They fall flat and soothe simple and, at the end of the day, inaccurately treat the intrusion of suffering.
Pain deserves better. Pain deserves the truth; not contradictions. Not maybes. Not a #1 best-seller, but rather, it deserves the certitude and confidence of all creation. Pain deserves the smoldering wick of an eternal flame—a truth that was lit on the front side of Genesis and that continues its watch through until forever. And that truth, my friends, does indeed exist. Truth has a name. It was given to Him before the very foundation of the world.
Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God.
The Word made flesh, living among us for a season; living within us for always through the power of his abiding and Holy Spirit. He is only Truth who is worthy of a pain’s holding. He is the only Truth who understands the depths of a pain’s intention.
Thus, when pain finds its way to our door, the only Truth that serves truthful, that proves useful, that lasts lasting, is the One who is well familiar with our griefs and our sufferings (Isaiah 53:3). He walked the road of suffering so that we could better walk ours. And if for some reason we think that our road should walk pain free, then we have missed a deeply rooted tenet of our faith.
To take up our cross and follow after Jesus is to resolutely walk the path of his intention (Luke 9:23-24, 1 Peter 4:12-13). To be like Jesus, we are called to walk like Jesus. And His walk, fellow pilgrims, was painted with suffering. Not suffering for suffering’s sake, but suffering for our sake, so that when it, too, becomes ours in smaller measure, we will better understand how to walk it through.
With a Truth that is transparent and real and willing to share in our sufferings and with a purpose that often times hides its intention but is, nevertheless, present and profitable for our sacred transformation.
Pain deserves the Truth. It deserves our notice, and then it deserves our release to the Truth. We may never understand pain’s grip on this side of eternity. We may never have the perfect words to offer on behalf of pain’s intrusion into the lives of others. But if we hold the light of Jesus Christ in our hearts, then we hold enough … more than enough … to lead us onward in victory.
Pain doesn’t get the final word in our many matters, friends. Neither do our preferences. Truth does. Thus, when pain comes knocking and brings her questions accordingly, may we always find our words and our trust anchored in the eternal Flame who lights us home and burns us brightly as we go. Thus, I pray…
Seed your Truth within my flesh, Father. Root Him deeply and burn Him brightly, regardless of the suffering going on around me and in me. Where there are questions, answer them with Truth. Where there are tears, dry them with Truth. Where there is suffering, cover it with Truth, and where there is doubt, replace it with the Truth. Keep my heart and my tongue ready with the Truth, so that on all occasions your Truth stands at the podium and my understanding submits to Truth’s shadows. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart, always be found acceptable in thy sight, Oh Lord, my Strength, my Redeemer, and my absolute Truth. Amen.
Copyright © April 2009 – Elaine Olsen