If there is one thing I think all of us could (if possible) or would do without, it would suffering. NONE of us like to suffer. The thought of long-term suffering keeps many awake at night out of worry. While I have never stayed awake worrying about suffering, I would be lying if I didn’t say that I have laid awake at night in tremendous pain at various times. After getting hit by a car (hit-and-run) while riding my bike in November of 2016 and then going over the handlebars while going down a hill in February of 2017, I suffered back pain like I never had before. Surgery alleviated that by a simple procedure of taking a bone fragment off a nerve. Such relief! Those same accidents gave me a huge hematoma on my left hip (Accident #1 where he hit me) and a broken collarbone and 3 broken ribs (Accident #2). I tell myself it could have been worse. I could be crippled (Accident #1 & 2) or brain dead if not for my helmet (it split in three places in Accident #2). But the pain of suffering was real. I slept 2-3 hours a night and then roamed the house the rest. I could barely put my socks on. My pain was alleviated, ironically, when I got on my bike to ride. 

I’m also aware, though, my suffering is nothing like someone from the church I pastor whose daughter died in a car accident about two months ago. Or the spouse who is watching their soul mate waste away to nothing because of cancer or not know who they are due to dementia or Alzheimer’s. In many cases, suffering is relative. Some handle it better than others. Some are devastated by it. 

C.S Lewis is famous for the following quote:

God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world. (The Problem of Pain quoted in The Path-p.216)

I’m not a super saint. Not even close. I sometimes gripe and complain when suffering hits. Trust me when I say I cried out to God numerous nights as I wandered through the house in such excruciating pain that would not let me sleep. But as I look back, I see the wisdom of Lewis’ words. My pain drew me to the Father. I cried in His arms. As I sat awake (I could not lay) at night, I wept for relief and prayed for healing from the pain. But I also found myself being drawn to Him ever closer. Do I want that pain again? Honestly? No. But to have that closeness? It gives me pause. 

I don’t know what kind of pain you may be going through-physical, emotional, social or even trauma-induced. What I do know is that God will speak and you will hear if you listen.