I've been wrestling a lot lately with the question of suffering. What I have been wresting with, as C. S. Lewis puts it, is that 'If God were good, He would wish to make His creatures perfectly happy, and if God were almighty, He would be able to do what He wished. But the creatures are not happy. Therefore God lacks either goodness, or power, or both.'
I have also been wondering why I suffer with the seemingly pointless things I suffer with. And it struck me today - If my suffering is for the purpose of refining me to love people better; to become a better person for others and therefore to change the word for the better – then my suffering can have profound meaning: to help ease the burden of suffering of others. The very thing that distresses my spirit and calls me to question God's goodness.
I have a quote on my wall, by Elizabeth Kubler Ros, that says this:
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.
I read this and I'm reminded of my question: why does a loving God allow suffering?
In my assumption that a loving God could not allow suffering, I am saying that (the absence of) suffering is The Most Important Factor in the expression of pure love. That there is nothing higher, nothing is more important.
However, what if there is something more important for pure love than the absence of suffering, and that the existance of this 'something' unfortunately requires the existence of suffering? Perhaps real love allows free will (which can create suffering), and the existence of real love is worth the existence of suffering.
And perhaps my experience of love is so diluted and flawed, that I cannot comprehend the meaning of this statement.
This may in part explain why a loving God would permit suffering, but why he would also weep when we weep. When I was feeling particularly low one day, and couldn't stop crying over my troubles, I opened my Bible. This is the first thing I read: 'They soon arrived, weeping and sobbing, and the king and all his servants wept bitterly with them.' (2 Samuel 13:36)
Our suffering brings God much pain – for he really is a loving God – but there is something that exists that is greater than this great evil of suffering, something that is the ultimate expression of pure love. And that thing is partially hidden from us. Proverbs 25:2 says 'It is the glory of God to conceal a thing; but to search out a matter is the glory of kings.' Where God hides, we question. Why? Why is there suffering when our God is loving? And where we question, we search. Jeremiah 29:13 says, 'You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart.'
We see glimpses of this hidden thing; what might be higher and a greater expression of love than the absence of suffering. We see reflections and glimpses that point to it; when men lay down their lives to fight for their country, when people cry out to God for the first time amidst their pain, when the family of a cancer victim sets up a foundation that saves many lives.
God is all powerful, but there seems to also be a logic that the world is created by and in. It is the same logic that required Jesus to die in order for our sin to be dealt with. Why God couldn't just say, 'Never mind, all's forgiven, swept under the rug!' In order for the beauty, the riches, the freedom, the joy and the intimacy to happen in the scenario of sin and separation from God: something seemingly terrible had to also happen. An exchange took place, a suffering that released more power than we fully understand.
I believe the profound mystery of suffering is linked to the profound mystery of the cross.
The idea that there is something greater than suffering, and that we must go through fire to gain it, may make our eyes flinty, our resolve steely and renew our ability to be the heroes we are called to be.
There is a reason that epic, heroic movies like Braveheart, Gladiator, Batman, Spiderman, Superman – and the rest – move us in our core. Why our skin ripples and our hearts beat a little faster and our muscles flex. 'Deep cries out to deep' as our souls reconnect with the hidden thing, the thing blurred by blood, sweat and tears.
I still don't fully know why we suffer, especially in circumstances that seem particularly pointless. The midst of suffering feels like the greatest injustice. And the pain of great suffering seems to consume everything else. Will we ever discover a satisfying answer to this?
I don't know what God's grand plan is, but he promises to give us the strength to endure whatever we are called to endure but we need to trust him in order to do this. We may well not have the strength to endure and trust him, unless we remind ourselves frequently that with God, nothing, NOTHING is ever in vain. That he stores every tear, will redeem every ache, and will resurrect life from death.
And somehow we must trust, that if we could see what we are unlocking by enduring this fallen world, we would go through it all over again to help attain this full revelation; the astonishing, secret plan of pure love.
