The
problem of suffering has plagued the human mind and heart since the beginning
of time. Theologians and men and women of faith have spent countless pages
striving to construct an intellectual fortress formidable enough to withstand
the never-ending and ever-changing bombardment of problems that suffering hurls
at the human psyche. Yet, how many times have you heard a question like “why
does God allow suffering?” If God is good, why doesn’t He/She do away with all
suffering for His/Her creation? And we know all too well the mindset so common
to our society and culture that says everything happens for a reason, often
explaining that all suffering must serve some purpose for our lives. Along
these lines, many modern Christian churches teach a theology that says God uses
suffering (some may even say that it can be a gift) to help us grow, mature, or
bless us in a future, unforeseen way. The point is, as people of faith, and
maybe even all people alike, we will never accept a God who promises to be
unceasingly loving and good and yet also gives
us pain and suffering for no purpose.
One
day last week, my team went to visit and fellowship with a small group church
that meets at our pastor’s mother’s house. While we were there, our pastor
Andrew asked me to go with him to spend some time with his 14-year-old brother that
lives there with his mother. He was lying down in a dark room, away from the
gathering of people… yet it was not because he didn’t want to socialize. Sergio
(Andrew’s brother) is plagued by frequent migraines and neck pain, which often
force him to stay home from school, miss out on things with his friends, and
leave him incapable of doing much of anything productive or fun. He has
combated this suffering for over 3 years now, and doctors have yet to find the
cause. Needless to say, he doesn’t have the ability to live the life of a
normal 14-year-old boy. To offer him some companionship for one night was a
blessing that both of us cant fully comprehend, a brief glimpse of what I pray
God will provide for him in the upcoming years of his young adulthood.
As
we started talking, I knew God was leading me to have a conversation with him
about his perplexing struggle. He spoke with soft humbleness, exuding maturity
in faith well beyond his years, and as I listened, my compassion for him
quickly grew. I questioned him about his feelings and thoughts on his state,
and he expressed that the most difficult aspect for him was that he cant figure
out why he is suffering like this, what purpose God might have in it for him.
Although he continues to grapple with such questions, he claimed that he accepts
this suffering that God has given to him.
This was the entryway that God erected for me to offer some of His/Her
invaluable wisdom and encouragement.
Faith
has led many people to believe that God is sovereign over the totality of life,
that nothing happens outside His/Her will. As glorifying as it is to exclaim
this about God, do we maintain within this theology that all suffering is given
to people specifically and directly by God? Does God desire for people to suffer, even if suffering can bring about
blessing and growth in one’s life? Whatever our answers may be to these timeless
questions, the viewpoint that I offered Sergio in that moment was that he doesn’t
need to believe that God intentionally gave him this suffering that has
hindered his life for 3 years. I suggested that suffering, pain, hardship, and
heartache may just be realities that enter our lives without any understandable
reason, that although the “Sovereign God” may allow these things to come, that doesn’t mean He/She cosmically
arranges for us to have them.
In
offering this fresh perspective, Sergio’s mind and heart became amicable to the
Truth that God wants to bring healing and restoration to his life, to bless him
with an abundant, joy-filled life. We both realized that he doesn’t need to be
chained to the past, that he doesn’t need to psychologically hunt for a
tangible reason to explain why he has his suffering. Doing so leaves him
vulnerable to the often deceptive and destructive thinking that says his
suffering must be God’s punishment for a sin he has committed. And not only
this, but it also prevents him from giving himself completely in faith to God and
the blessing that He/She wants to bestow upon him through this pain and
affliction. Lastly, we can never obtain concrete answers to the “why” questions
of our sufferings; I guess the same is true of most “why” questions in theology
and the life of faith. In my journey of life and relationship with God, I tend
to sway towards the perspective that there really may not be any answers to
these questions for us, that there aren’t reasons to make us feel better or
understand our state of affairs. If this is the case, then God doesn’t want us
to dwell too much in the speculation of why we suffer. Wouldn’t He/She rather
us beseech Him/Her in faith for direction for the next step? Wouldn’t God
rather us have faith that He/She wants to heal and renew us so we can pursue
the unthinkable possibilities that He/She has for us in the Kingdom? Thus I
propose a guideline for the dilemma of personal suffering: obsession with the “why”
only impedes the freedom available in the “now what?”
(note:
I specified “personal” suffering because I maintain that faithfully tracking
the “why’s” of suffering within the arenas of oppressive or unjust societal structures
is highly valuable).
Like
I detailed earlier, perhaps God didn’t perfectly orchestrate the circumstances
of Sergio’s suffering, having X reason for why he would receive it, and Y
purpose that it would serve in Sergio’s life. Life is often much messier and
more complicated than this isn’t it? Does God and His/Her will, whatever that
even means, have to fit into such a pretty box? I hope not… This is dangerous
theology. Albeit, it is a theology that I believe Sergio needs right now. As he
is currently sitting alone in a hospital room on a 10-day stint, the doctors
still trying to discover the physiological glitch that is behind his problems,
the last thing he needs to be doing is wondering what he did wrong to make God
punish him with this suffering. The real remedy he needs, at least for his
mental and spiritual health, is the one God offered him in our conversation
that unforgettable night; a change in perspective. In switching off the endless
echo of “why am I suffering God, why did you allow/give this to me?” he will be
able to turn on the productive faith of “how do you want me to move forward so
that I can get on with my life and serve You?” And from the way our conversations
and prayer went that night, I trust that the treatments of this perspectival remedy
are already showing signs of success in his life.
