In our World – Pain is the Norm.

I’ve always liked the book of Genesis. The first words written about our world. First principles that can be built upon to make sense of our lives. Things like light and darkness, and that we are created in God’s image. The first principles in Genesis are so powerful, they are the foundation of how I understand life.

Well, I discovered another principle. I read it in Genesis chapter 3. Actually, I didn’t discover it, I realized I already knew about it. I’m talking about the principle of pain. Hmmm, first principles, they are the foundation of how I understand life?  The principle of pain.

In Genesis, the bible tells us that pain is the norm in the world we live in.  In fact, it is the first thing God told the first people, Adam and Eve, as they chose to live outside of God’s rules. The first thing! Here’s what God said to Adam and Eve. 

To the woman he said, “I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.”  To Adam he said, “Because you listened to your wife and ate fruit from the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You must not eat from it,’ “Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat food from it all the days of your life.  Gen 3:16-17

I’ve never thought about pain in that way. But we’re destined to live a painful life. At the same time, we desperately try to live our lives devoid of pain. What a weird dichotomy. I realize how relatively painless my life was in contrast to some of the world, no hunger, no wars, no rampant crime and violence. On the other hand, even in middle class America, pain was always there. Like a humming in the background. And sometimes the humming of pain becomes more like a scream. Humming can be ignored, screaming means the pain is real.

Although the humming increased dramatically after my stroke, it was doable. Generally I didn’t think much about it. But recently there has been some screaming. I’ve been told that the nerve pain associated with a stroke often gets worse, even years later.  Maybe that is causing the pain?  I hope whatever is causing it can be fixed. (Why, because I’m trying to live a life devoid of pain. Yep.) But as it stands, I’m not dealing with the pain very well. It is sapping away my motivation. I cannot sleep very well. I can’t work very effectively, I can’t concentrate enough to write and even “meeting the day” every morning on my porch has lost its vibrance. My usual rosy outlook on life is tilting badly toward being a grumpy old man. 

So that’s my month, how was yours? 🙂

Anyways, to honor my commitment to post something every month, here are some thoughts about pain.

The shortest verse in the bible is “Jesus wept”. I’ve always liked that verse, but now it is so profound to me.  He wept over the pain of death of one man named Lazarus, and he wept with his friends who suffered loss. He wept even though he knew he was about to “fix” the problem. If you don’t know the story, Jesus raised him up, from death to life. And suddenly, those who were mourning, became those who rejoiced. Talk about fixing the problem. (from John 11:35-45)

A few days later the story about Jesus’ returning to Jerusalem continues. As he was coming to Jerusalem Jesus wept again, he wept over the brokenness and pain of people in Jerusalem. He wept over Jerusalem like he wept over Lazarus (from Luke 19:41-42). Jesus weeps over the pain and brokenness in this world. All that happened while Jesus was traveling to Jerusalem to face crucifixion.

I wrote this in my notebook during my devotions:  Today, Jesus weeps over my house, Jesus weeps over my city.

Christ knew pain. In pain he was crucified. Along with that, in ways we can’t imagine, Christ also knew the pain of the world. He weeps over the pain of the world. And I can’t shake this idea, that he weeps over my pain as well. For one man named Karl, Jesus weeps. And someday he will fix me. He will miraculously fix me, maybe in this world, but for sure in the world to come. Maybe he won’t take away my pain right now, but God knows my pain. And he weeps.

I had an epiphany of sorts, during the days after 9-11. Those days when those of us (who are old enough anyways) felt the pain of death. It occured to me that what happened that day, when 3000 lives were tragically lost, happens every day. 150,000 people die everyday. While most of those are from natural causes, many are not. What happened that day when 3000 people unanticipatedly died, happens every day. Every day. I felt like I got a glimpse of the pain and loss of the world through God’s eyes. Thankfully it was only a glimpse. If it wasn’t I would be lost in a world of pain. 

I mean, really lost. If my pain was tripping me up. How can I deal with the pain around me?

Maybe dramatically, the story is told about my grandpa, who had an experience where he asked God to see the world through his eyes, and God said yes. He became overwhelmed with grief. My uncle Paul Hostetler recounts what happened in his book about his Dads life called, Preacher on Wheels. 

“It was the most dreadful experience Dad ever went through. He would walk around the house, the mill, and other buildings, wringing his hands and weeping in deepest agony”  after a couple days of this, he realized that he would have to get relief or die. So he prayed that God would take it away. And God did, but it changed him, and he sold his business  and became a missionary.

Seeing the pain around us, it changes us. It makes us more compassionate, or maybe it makes us more bitter.  

I realize “sitting on a fence” is harder to do after having a stroke. When your life is shaken, you generally fall off the fence, on one side or the other.  Somehow my stroke landed me on the rosy side of the fence. I guess although life is leaning towards the grumpy side, bitterness is on the other side of the fence, I’m thankful for that. So I’m figuring out ways to live in pain on the rosy side of the fence, because the rosy side is where you want to be.

1   Paul Hostetler, Preacher on Wheels, (The Brethren Press, Eglin, Ill. 1980), 102.