An Unfinished Life

There is a fork in the road of suffering that we all find ourselves staring at. Both paths lead to change. No matter which way you go you will not be the same after you journey down it. I don't think you can avoid choosing a path either. Suffering forces your hand. It makes you walk. It's our choice of which path we take that makes all the difference. 

The first path is the easiest one. It is the well lit path. The wider road. The road traveled quite often. It is the path we tend to take naturally. It is the path of pride. That road is paved with anger. It is framed out by bitterness. It is lit by entitlement. It is maintained by cynicism. It ends in misery. We tend to take this path because pride is a manipulative monster that we let live in our lives way too often. Pride only cares about self preservation. Me, the most important thing in the universe. Me, the actual center of the universe. Me, the best thing in existence. Me, who everyone wants to be like. Me, the most self-deluded thing out there. 

We want to take that path because we really do think it is all about Me. But once on that path our hearts grow colder by the minute. Our words, our faces, our dispositions are laced with anger, rage, and hate. Sarcasm becomes a weapon. Jealousy and Envy are the only lens we see things through. We only want what others have or we wish they had nothing. Bitterness sets in like the Plague and leaves us changed. We become a bad taste in the lives of those around us. A stench. A drain. A parasite. An obnoxious noise. The death of the party. 

But there is the other path. The one less travelled. The one dimly lit. Narrower. It is the path of humility. It is paved with joy. It is framed out with gratitude. It is lit by grace. It is maintained by faith. It ends in glory. Humility is way easier to type than it is to live. It is the archenemy of pride which makes it the antithesis of Me. This path takes Me and puts it on a cross. Me is destroyed. Silenced. Rendered ineffective. This is right where we need to be. The less of Me there is the more of Him is seen in our world. 

When suffering forces our hand and we take the path of humility we grow warm with compassion for others. We see everything differently. Our lens is love. We look for ways to give and help instead of get and be served. We bask in the gratitude of God's grace in our lives, recognizing His gift and His power sustaining us in all things. Through this we become refreshing springs to those around us. A wonderful fragrance. Encouraging. Giving. A beautiful song. A joyous participant in the party.

One day we will catch a glimpse of ourselves in a mirror in passing. We’ll stop and stare. Who will we see? Will we be horrified? Will we be shocked? Will we be excited? Will we be pleased? Suffering is a part of being human. It is a great catalyst for growth and change. Mark my words: Suffering will change you. You will not be the same when you come out on the other side. What that is though will be determined by the path you take in the midst of it. Will we choose pride and self preservation? Anger, envy, bitterness, sadness, and cynicism will be waiting for us with their sinister smiles. Will we choose humility and grace? Joy, gratitude, love, peace and restoration will be waiting for us with their warm embrace. God chose the path of humility by the Incarnation which led to the Crucifixion. But the great news is those led to the Resurrection. Hope always lies at the end of tunnel of humility. May we choose the right path in our times of suffering. 

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Romans 8:18

Lament. We don't really use this word much any more. We have our modern versions and variations of it but I don't think there is anything better than the word lament. Lament is a passionate expression of sorrow and grief. It is the gut wrenching mourning that comes from pain and loss. It is emotional. It is heavy. It is real. 

I wonder if we really do this much anymore. In the church, we don't really celebrate/approve of the process of lamenting like I think we should. We see it as a negative. Don't show your emotions. Emotions are bad. Emotions mean defeat. Emotions mean you don't have the joy of the Lord. Lamenting/expressing our grief can be looked at as a weakness and I disagree with that. Suppression is not maturity or growth in action but a manifestation of fear and pride. 

All throughout Scripture there is the act of lamenting. There is even a book in the Old Testament called "Lamentations". Psalms is full of people writing songs of complaint, anxiety, anger, confusion, pain, and suffering to God. They understood how to let it all out. They expressed the depths of their heart and their true humanity. I think lamenting is the proper response to unanswered questions about the "why" we are going through something. It's like God is saying, "I know. Keep telling me". In the words of Christopher J. H. Wright, "Lament is the voice of faith struggling to live with unanswered questions and unexplained suffering." It's okay to let it all out (thank you Tears for Fears). 

For me lamenting takes form in writing. I vent when I write. I have some pages of complaint and anger and confusion. In a moment of transparency and honesty I want to show one that I wrote back in January:

"I feel empty. Ashamed. Like a failure. Pain. Lonely. Defeated. Cold. Dazed. Tricked. Let down. Disappointed. Lost and numb. I don't want to talk or see anyone. I don't want pity. I want answers. I want revenge. I want justice. I want to forget. I want something new. I want healing. I want to let it bleed. I want to run away. I want to hide. I want to destroy. I want something definitive. I want something warm. I want pain. I want grief. I want to be alone. A new day. Fresh start. Time machine. Redemption..." 

Suffering produces a vortex of feelings and emotions. You name it and I felt it. Did that mean that is how things actually were? No, but that is what it felt like and I expressed it to God. I gave Him an earful and every time I did the strangest thing happened: I got closer to Him. Lamenting is very personal and intimate. It's raw and honest and sharing it with someone always necessitates a bond. Yelling and screaming and arguing with God pushed me closer to Him, not drive me away. Why? He can handle the hurricane of emotions and questions and feelings we send His way. It doesn't catch Him off guard. He wants it. He longs for it. He beckons us to lament on His shoulder. It shows our dependance and need of Him. It shows that we still trust Him to take these pains and do something with them. 

I think it's also good to express our lamentations to those we trust. I remember a good friend of my who I hadn't talk to in a while sent me a Facebook message out of the blue one day as I was going through all this. He was just talking about a movie he thought I would like (and I did!) and then he put that dangerous question at the end: "How are things going?". And all the sudden I unleashed everything on him. I couldn't help it. It was a flood of emotion that I had to get out. I trust him with anything and so I felt safe to lament out loud to him. (I felt bad by the way b/c if you know me, I don't do this much. I am somewhat of a private person so this is new territory for me.) After I sent it I felt weightless. Free. Different. It was major victory and step towards healing for me (Thanks Stephen). 

So embrace the lament. Shout. Write. Sing. Cry. Drive. Weep. Let it out. Don't hide or hold back what suffering is doing to you. God knows and wants us to express it to Him. He will not abandon us because of what we are feeling. Throw your heart on the floor and let God slowly put it back together. Remember what David said in Psalm 34:17-18, "When the righteous cry for help, the LORD hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit."

Why? It's the initial question that comes to our minds when we find ourselves under the finger of suffering. It's usually the first thing we ask when we encounter something we don't understand. Why am I in pain? Why is this happening? Why did I suffer? Why did You let this happen God? Why do I have to go through this? Why me? Why not them? Why is human. We are curious and inquisitive. We long to know things. We want/need an explanation for pretty much everything and if can't get one we are offended, angry, and easily frustrated. 

Why is not an anti-spiritual question either. It is all over Scripture, particularly in the Old Testament. The psalmist, Job, and the prophets asked God why on more than one occasion. When they did they were not struck down for being nosey or cursed for a lack of faith. I think God wants us to ask why. Why always begets a conversation and God loves a deep conversation with His creation. But simply asking God "why" doesn't necessitate an answer. Sometimes there is a deafening silence in response to our question. Sometimes there is revelation. But God is in no contract to answer every single one of our questions. For those who do not believe in God "why" can be powerfully defeating or tastefully dismissed as "that's life" or the always culturally cool and savvy "karma dude". 

But is "why" always the right question to ask? Another question kept popping up as I searched the Text for guidance and answers. The question was not "why" but "how long?". "How long Oh Lord!?" How long must this go on? How long will this endure? How long will I feel like this? How long until the dream is realized? How long will the pain last? How long until You do something? How long until You answer me? 

Asking "how long" is interesting to me because it is a question that doesn't deny what is happening but only wants to know the longevity of it. Suffering may not come with a Keynote presentation describing why it has decided to visit you. It just shows up and gives you a nice cold hug. Our response however can be to spend all our mental capacity and all our time trying to figure out the why or it can be to accept it and ask how long. When we do this it frees us up from the anxiety of "why" and allows us to learn something about ourselves. If I could say one thing about the trials of the last seven months it has been that I have learned a great deal that I could not have learned unless I went through what I did.

Asking "why" is not bad it is just incomplete because if God told us "why" it wouldn't change the fact that we were still going through something. "But it would make it easier!" you say. Would it? We know that for sure? It's easy to say yes on this side of suffering but nothing, and I mean nothing, can simulate what life is like in that storm. Also, sometimes knowing the answer to something makes things much harder because "why" always begets another "why". 

Embracing the mystery of suffering by asking "how long" freed me up personally. Trust me, I asked God why we had to be the ones to go through what we did a million times. I did not understand. But "how long" is commitment to perseverance and perseverance leads to depth and growth. No, it is not fun. No it doesn't make it easier. No it doesn't answer all our questions. But it does reframe things for us. In a way, it is a form of personal submission to the sovereignty of God and a step closer to the Cross of Christ.

In the end that is what I came back to time and time again: the cross. Horrific, awful, painful, unfair, confusing, depressing, you name it the cross sums it up. But where there is death in God's Narrative there is always redemption and resurrection and new life. There is healing and restoration on the way. There is a future bright and vivid in the distance. There is an end to all suffering, pain, and death just around the corner. There is hope and He is on the way and knowing that, I can't help but ask in an excited version: "How long?!"