How to Get Out of Pain

How to Get Out of Pain

Keith, what does Jesus say about the fact that good Christians often have serious pain? 

 

I don’t know where the notion came from that committed Christians shouldn’t have pain.  But for me pain has been the most important way that I find my way back to God—again and again. I remember hearing Dr. Paul Tournier, a Swiss physician and author and also a Christian, give a lecture on this topic.  A physician in the audience asked him a similar question:  “Dr. Tournier, how do you get your patients out of their pain?”  I was shocked at his answer, as was everyone else in the room.

“Oh, I don’t,” he responded.  “Not until they know the meaning of it.”

For most of my life I was very anxious to get out of pain—that is until I tried to surrender my whole life to the God Jesus called Father.  It had not occurred to me that personal pain is virtually a necessity for one who hopes to live as a serious citizen of God’s Kingdom/Reign. In fact, as I’ve said before (see this post), pain is like a fire alarm system to help us pinpoint issues we need to recognize and deal with. 

There are many kinds of personal pain:  pain that results from physical injury or various kinds of pain involving loss of self-esteem or from troubled or broken relationships.  

When Jesus first drew his disciples apart from the crowds to teach them, he listed some of the most painful personal experiences or losses people can experience and said to them, “You’re blessed

  • …when you reach the end of your rope.
  • … when you feel you have lost that which is most dear to you.
  • … when you are content with just who you are, no more, no less.
  • … when your commitment to God provokes persecution.
  • …every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me…You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble.  (Matthew 5, The Message)

I think he was saying that until the disciples and I realize that we are powerless on our own to control our lives, our circumstances and other people’s acceptance and approval of us, we will not really believe that we actually need to surrender our whole lives to God.

When I became a Christian, I surrendered my “overall” life early on with a statement to that effect. But as time went on my behavior (and my family) finally told me that first surrender had evidently not included my insistence on being right in arguments, and over time my ambition that caused me to neglect my family (although I made valiant attempts to make it up to them, etc.).  But clearly I was powerless and hurt my family because I was over-focused on succeeding at everything I did—even as a Christian.  And I failed as a husband and a father.  Only then in the despair and rejection resulting from a failed marriage that I had caused did I hear Christ saying to me that unless I would go back to square one and become like a child in my relationship to God as my intimate Father. I could not see and change my life-long mostly unconscious compulsion to control circumstances and people to get them to act the way I wanted them to. I needed to recognize clearly that inside where no one can see, I am a little child calling out to his intimate Father (abba=daddy).  I am asking Him to teach me how to live and relate to other people as loving siblings instead of getting them to be actors in the drama I am producing and in which I am the star. 

This stance of putting ourselves on center stage in our daily or professional lives and subtly or openly trying to get the others around us to be supporting actors in our drama is a powerful word picture of the self-centered Sin that we Christians believe only God can overcome.  The problem is that God’s process of transforming us into the wonderful, loving and creative people he created us to be cannot, it seems, begin without our giving God permission (to the best of our ability) to teach us who we are and what our role in life will be that can bring happiness and fulfillment to other people and ourselves.  And this evidently begins with awareness, confession and surrender.*

One of the greatest mysteries about God’s process of transformation is that we cannot see in our own lives and behavior that we are in fact trying to control the other people around us (however subtly and “lovingly” we may be doing the controlling).  Some people who have the most serious problem of controlling their wives, husbands, children or siblings are consciously so “gentle and loving” with their hints and suggestions that they are astounded when accused of controlling.  They may even cry or rage and say things like “Controlling?!  Good grief!  I’m only trying to HELP you!!”  Or weep and say, “I’m trying to help you avoid making some terrible mistakes!!”  And that may be how they experience their behavior.  So solving these difficulties may take some counseling to unravel.

In my case, rejection by family member—when they couldn’t get through to me about my self-centeredness and control issues—caused me so much pain that I went to a treatment center, and there my denial finally cracked open.  (I described how this happened for me in The Secret Life of the Soul.)  Now I try to listen to the pain in my own life and see how I can relate to it as Jesus did and see what it may have to teach me about how to be more loving the way Jesus loved.

The experience of inter-personal pain is often a shock—whether it is experienced by being rejected by a person or group or the pain of a degenerating spine.  The good news is that as I surrender the pain and my future to God I can learn how to walk through the pain of living and understand better how to love people as I’m going through it.  And looking back I have realized that the areas of personal pain in my own life are like drawbridges I can put down into other people’s lives and walk with them as I learn how to take their hands and help them know at least one path through their particular kind of pain.

So it is often through our experiences of pain that we become “specialists” in helping people learn how to deal with their experience of that same kind of pain—or at least to know that it is possible to make it through that pain, because we made it through—or are still making it through.[1]

And my journey as a Christian has led me to realize that it is the experience of personal pain that can lead us to see new values in the world and to be more caring and loving to people who are alone in their pain.  And since that is one of the purposes of citizens of God’s New Reign in Jesus—to love people and be a part of their healing, we can actually use our painful lonely experiences to become the loving people we were designed to be—if we can learn to look for and notice when other people are in pain…and when appropriate, to walk a few steps with them.

Dear Lord, thank you for realizing that the various kinds of secret pain in my life can be sources of wisdom as to how to love you and other people specifically when they are going through the loneliness of solitary pain.  Help me to learn to listen and let people tell about their pain instead of rushing in with fixes and all kinds of “answers” (before they are even asking for help).  Thank you that you didn’t promise us “answers” in the usual sense but said you would be present with us in our pain—and that would somehow transform us to learn how to love others in their pain.  Help me to be willing to go and sit with people in their pain—as you have done through those who have visited me.  In Jesus’ name, amen.

So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you:  take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going to work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. 

-Romans 12:1, The Message

 

Don’t run from suffering; embrace it.  Follow me and I’ll show you how.  Self-help is no help at all.  Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to saving yourself, your true self. 

-Mark 8: 35, The Message

 

 Let me tell you why you are here.  You’re here to be salt seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth…and another way to put it:  You’re to be light, bringing out the God colors in the world … (and the way you’re to be light is) to shine…be generous with your life.  By opening up to others you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven. 

-Mt. 5:13-26, The Message


* I’m not being “Pollyanna” here.  I still want to get out of pain as quickly as possible.  But I’m not quite as frantic about having pain because I have realized that all I have learned by going through a good bit of pain has helped me to become more sensitive and loving to other people—and more aware of God’s presence in my real life.

[1] If you have had this experience, you might consider taking a look at Facing Codependence.

Moving Beyond Circumstances that Block Us

Over the years many serious, committed Christians have asked me questions about how to come to grips with such painful topics as sickness, handicaps, accidents leading to permanent injury or death, and other such matters.  Devastated parents, husbands, young adults, when faced with the loss of someone on whom they depend, and whom they love deeply, begin to wonder what part God has in it all.

“Why was our child born with birth defects?”

“Why did my wife get cancer at 34 with four young children to raise?”

“Why was my father killed in a head-on collision by a drunk driver?”

“How could God let these things happen?”

These questions from the drawn, haunted faces of grieving, frustrated Christians keep coming back to me in the quiet of my study.  Why indeed?

I have faced questions like these in my own life before and after trying to make a serious commitment of my life to Christ.  I have cried, prayed, read, asked, and thought about the meaning of sickness and death.

When I was eighteen, I walked through the grief of a war telegram announcing the death of my only brother in a plane crash and saw what this did to my parent’s lives.  I saw my mother have a nervous breakdown and then sat by her as she died of cancer in a few years.  My father had ulcers and then a heart condition which combined to kill him when I was twenty-three.  And in the midst of these sicknesses I broke my neck in a car wreck, and the doctor thought I might be paralyzed.

As each member of my family died I planned funerals and tried to console the ones who remained.  As each one “disappeared,” I spent a lot of time as a young man thinking about sickness and death.  I watched how they affected us all—the bad things and the good.  And I remember looking up at the stars late the night we heard of my brother’s death and crying out, “Why?”

Since I have become a Christian I have seen that this scream is a way of asking probably the deepest and most perplexing question that faces a person who believes in the God of Jesus Christ: “If God is all powerful and also good, why does he allow evil and pain to plague his people?”

This was one of the first questions my mind went to after my conversion.  Out of their uncertainty, people have come up with three basic notions about sickness—with dozens of variations.  Some say, “Sickness is God’s will; therefore we must bear it patiently.”  Others say, “Sickness is of Satan.  And if we pray and have faith, God will root it out and heal us.”  Still others believe that “out of sickness can come understanding, noble character and achievements which would never have been.”  But having studied the Scriptures and having read many books on sickness and the whole problem of “undeserved” evil, I have not found any theoretical solution which satisfies the pain of the human soul in its agony and tells us “why.”

How then do we Christians face sickness when it strikes us or the people we love, or deal with the death of someone we love?

In God’s Good News—expressed in the drama of the life choices and experiences of a Person (not a reasoned theory about those choices and experiences), Jesus gives us something which is more valuable than intellectual answers to the deepest problems of human life.  With his unique self-limiting love (he chose not to use his power to save himself or even to save his cause) he provides a paradoxical offer of freedom for all of us self-centered humans to transcend even our fear of death, to risk all of our lives in order to find the blessedness of God.   Since our imaginations can absorb and be transformed by a love of us that does not demand a price in return, God gives us a choice of whether we want His gift of life in our experience that allows us to transcend and even utilize the circumstances that have us blocked.  But to incorporate Jesus’ “answers” in our lives, we must move beyond the question of “why illness?” to “what can I learn from this illness?” and “How can I love others better in the midst of sickness and failure.

One person learns patience, understanding, and almost unimaginable compassion for others; another becomes an unbearable, complaining, hyper-sensitive and self-centered block to the healing power of love in the culture he or she inhabits.  The choice can be ours.  The question is, “will we choose to be wedded to Life and Love or to move into and be carriers of death’s darkness while still alive?”

But if the losses and tragedies of life can be valuable, then is sickness a good thing?  The Gospels and the Church answer a resounding, “No!”

Here we have another of the many paradoxes of life and faith. Although disease, accidents and undeserved tragedies can bring great transformation of character, including the Christ-like qualities of compassion and the love of seemingly unlovable enemies to some, these horrible experiences of unexpected illness and early death can also destroy all a person’s values.

Christian physicians are right, I think, in giving their lives trying to snatch people from sickness and death, as Jesus did.  For it certainly seems obvious that Jesus entirely rejected the idea that sickness was sent by God as a punishment.  And as Louis Cassels (in The Real Jesus, page 26) points out, Jesus did not encourage the belief that the sufferer ought to remain ill in order to acquire courage or learn patience.  In fact, the Gospels report nineteen specific instances, and allude to hundreds of others in which Jesus healed sick people by a word or gesture.

So Christ anticipated modern medical science by recognizing that all illness is to some degree psychosomatic—involving the mind as well as the body.  And his conversations with the sick always show a concern for the mind and the spirit as well as the body.

But Jesus did not give those being healed, or his disciples, rational closure or a theory of sickness.  He gave them a way to do what they could to help love those who were sick or lost.  And today, by surrendering our lives to the Father and walking with those in pain we can be part of the love God offers to those at the end of their own ropes so that they can be open to experience God’s love and a way of life that can transform their sickness and even death into renewing life with the Father and his family.

God, forgive me when I blame you for allowing evil and pain, sickness and death, into our lives.  Show me how to learn from suffering, and help me to let you show me a way through the suffering and pain, a way that leads me closer to you and toward becoming more like the loving person I now see that you always wanted me to become.  In Jesus’ name, amen.

“God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us.”

1 John 4:17

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