The Art of Suffering

                               

Suffering.

What's that all about?

You're fine, life's good, then...Slam.

An unexpected death, a redundancy, a marital affair, a bout of depression that is particularly dark and desperate. Or an illness that's not quite enough to stop your day to day but slowly, surely eats away at your happiness.

Yep. Suffering is hard. But that's the point right? Would life be lived in all its fullness if it was just light and no shadows? Day with no night?

Well, we seem to spend most of our lives trying to escape the darkness.

Depression? Get medication. Grief? Get counselling. Worrying all the time? Find a nice addiction to numb the fear. We have the answer to everything nowadays and yet seem to be the most confused, fragile and disillusioned generation.

Our suffering defines us. We compare it. Measure it. Let it grow into a mountain of mental health issues or wear it like a badge of pride, an identity.

But what if we embraced suffering? What if we learnt hard lessons in our suffering? What if God LETS us suffer for our good?

After losing my son Amos to cancer 5 months ago I encountered real suffering. I've had bad days before. I've felt sad, lonely, lost in my life before. I've wanted things seemingly so out of reach. Days that turn into weeks of feeling discontent. Questioning things. Even my own faith and the point of it all.

But the sudden death of a child? Wow. THAT'S suffering.

So you go through the suffering process:

1. Why me?

2. How could you let that happen?

3. Are you really there?

4. Why are you not answering my questions as I desire?

5. WHY ME!?

After Amos died I remember we were about to drive home from the hospital with Charlotte's parents. I didn't want to get in the car. I wanted, I needed to walk. That walk home was one of the most surreal moments of my life. A walk I had done many times. A walk I had done when Charlotte had been close to losing her life after giving birth to our daughter Aria. A walk I had done with Amos not long before. I just remember the sheer weight of what had happened. The hopelessness, the helplessness. It was a beautiful sunny day but it had never felt so dark. Then and in the days that followed I didn't want to be here anymore. I couldn't see past my deep sadness. My love for my wife, my daughter, my family, my friends wasn't enough at that moment to sustain me. My suffering was consuming me.

But in my early days of suffering God was drawing near to me. Things were happening around me that were like tiny shards of light seeping through the curtain. My daughter Aria said to us one morning soon after Amos died: 'The Holy Spirit spoke to me last night and said I need to be brave and look after Mummy, Daddy, Bampi and Bibi' (Her grandparents staying with us). She's 4 years old.

On Easter Sunday a few days later, a day that is normally so full of joy and happiness, remembering what Jesus did on the cross. God was moving again in Aria's heart. Breaking through the desperate silence she said 'Right, we're going to pray for each other. One after the other. Pray for the person next to you'. I had not even got close to praying before that moment. She's 4 years old by the way.

These little chinks of light were gathering pace and momentum. I was drawn to many stories online. Dads who had lost sons, mums who had lost daughters. YouTube algorithms that normally lead you into a black hole of procrastination were leading me to hope.

I was physically feeling God's presence and somehow his peace. A peace that surpasses all understanding.

Charlotte said one morning that she had seen Amos in heaven. Somewhere hot, wearing one of his favourite red jumpers. He smiled and said 'I'm ok Mummy'.

My heart sang.

These shards of light were growing into beams. Permeating my soul. My very being. One random YouTube algorithm in particular caught my attention. A singer from the 70's called Keith Green was sharing how he became a Christian on a talk show. He had spent many years searching for the truth. Different religions, different ideas, and everything he encountered was pointing to Jesus but he was still struggling to believe. He goes on to say that even if God had flipped a mountain over in front of his eyes he wouldn't have believed, he would have found some logical reason as to why it happened. The fact that God had changed his heart from that place of searching, not knowing Jesus to a place of belief was all the proof of Gods existence he needed. It finally clicked.

I felt the same.

I went from a place of true darkness. Of not wanting to live. Of not believing. To believing in God more than I had ever done. To being more thankful for Jesus' sacrifice than ever before. To having hope. Through God's constant presence my heart was being restored.

John piper describes the fruit that sorrow brings: "Eat the fruit of sorrow, even if it is bitter. This fruit, that you can only eat now, has nutrients in it that you can’t get any other way. " When I first read this I remember thinking 'wow, deep John'. But I was experiencing this first hand. My closeness, my total reliance on God to just get me through the day was like never before. I was seeing visions and having moments with God that in all my years prior as a Christian I hadn't experienced. But what an upside down concept that we can grow as a person and also grow closer to God through our sorrow. The nutrients i.e. the closeness, knowledge and understanding of God is such a gift.

One of the most common stock phrases people use when sending condolences is 'there are no words'. No problem with those words. I would probably use the same if I were in the same boat as the one sending condolences. However, I've come to realise that there are words. Plenty in fact. The Bible is full of them. Words to encourage, words to bring comfort and words to bring hope in the midst of our suffering.

The Bible has plenty to say about suffering. Jesus said “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” John 16:33.

Suffering makes us more like Jesus. It can make or break you. But as Christians we can somehow take heart in these moments of great testing. We know our faith is being made stronger, our character shaped, endurance for life solidified and hope restored. And in our moments of weakness, when the suffering is too much, if we just rely on God's strength through our great weakness, God can do great things through us. We can rest in the knowledge that this suffering is temporary and the reward of heaven is eternal.

Paul writes, “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.

When I was a kid there used to be these super Christian wrist bands you could buy that had 'WWJD' written on them: 'What would Jesus do'. Well, when Amos died I had this really strong draw to the book of Job. 'What would Job do?' I had read this book before. Studied it in church small groups. I knew of its core message. And I knew that as scripture is God breathed, it was in the Bible for a reason. For moments such as these. When people have no words.

It's a tough read for anyone let alone Christians.

A good righteous man in the eyes of God is allowed to be tested by Satan. He loses everything and everyone. He is accused of wrongdoing by his friends and is on a journey of self pity and anger, cursing the very name of God but somehow still having faith. He then demands God takes account for his actions. He asks to speak to him face to face. And God appears to him. He doesn't answer Job's questions but demonstrates how his actions and decisions are universally, cosmically intertwined. That there is a wisdom beyond our human comprehension. A greater plan that surpasses all understanding.

So Job is led to a place of contentment and trust.

Ultimately, suffering is part of life. It's hard. It's horrible. It's sometimes soul-crushing. Even though we question God and demand answers, we can't comprehend God's wisdom. We have no right to blame him, disbelieve in him, or even curse him. God is in control.

"In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind". Job 12:10

God knows how many hairs are on our head. He knows how many days we have. He's counted every breath. He has a plan and purpose for our lives, whether like Job we are tested and afflicted or not.

Now, this knowledge doesn't take away the pain. It doesn't take away the grief. Somedays I'm so incredibly sad. Somedays I miss my son too much. Somedays my 4 year old daughter's memories of her brother are like a dagger in my heart.

But grief is okay because we grieve with hope. We may not understand God's wisdom but we can understand that God sent his son Jesus to die in our place so that if we believe we will be with him in heaven.

Suffering is like an art form. You can let it consume your very being. Or you can let God use it, use YOU for his good.

I'm choosing to let God use me. Even on the darkest days. The days when I want to run and hide. The days when it all feels too much. Remembering that if anyone knows what suffering is like, it's Jesus. The one who took our punishment. The one who gave his life.

Suffering. What's that all about?

I'm learning to trust in God.