Suffering, Deep

Honestly:  some suffering is deep.

Marva Dawn is a gifted, widely-regarded theologian, who served as Teaching Fellow for Spiritual Theology, for many years, at Regent College, in Vancouver, Canada.  But now, this deeply devoted church leader, knows deep suffering, as currently, Marva lives with “…arthritic hands, a crippled leg, a blind eye, a deaf ear, kidneys functioning around 17%, dead intestinal and stomach nerves, pain leftover from cancer and jaw surgeries, the imminent possibility of losing vision in her remaining eye, sores that will eventually necessitate amputation of her foot...” (as quoted by Luke Powery, "The Power of Weakness"  Sermon preached at Duke University Chapel, March 8, 2015)

At first, we’re puzzled, why such a spiritual ‘giant’ would know such agony.  But we conveniently forget that scripture makes no promises that any of us will be exempt from the thickest of travail.   Jesus is pointed in this anticipation:   “…For [God] makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust…”  (Matthew 5:45 ESV).

Though Scripture ultimately frames suffering with hope, Scripture does not downplay the severity that can come to our days. 

The book of Job, of course, is legendary in picturing the severity of suffering.  But equally graphic is Psalm 88, referred to, as the saddest scripture, in scripture, or in the words of Martin Marty:  “…a wintery landscape of unrelieved bleakness…” And for good reason; listen to its lament:

“…My soul is full of torment.  My life is like the walking dead…You have thrown me down into a well of despair, into dark shadows of the thickest depths.  Your wrath pressed down against me, all your crashing waves of affliction…My acquaintances – they have all grown estranged…From my confinement, I cannot struggle free…Why God have you abandoned my life and hidden our face from me…My nightmares surround me like water.  They gather around like a single voice…You have pushed away from me both friend and lover. [darkness is my closest friend].  (Psalm 88: 3; 7-8; 14; 1-18 - as translated by Pamela Greenberg)   
                                                                                                                                  

Has darkness ever been your closest friend?  It has for me. 

Frankly, Ethan the Ezrahite, the author of this psalm, describes this episode well.  Why during times of ‘unrelieved bleakness,” we feel like the walking dead, thrown into a well of despair.  We flounder in crashing waves of affliction, estranged.   Nightmares surround us in a single voice.  And any semblance of companionship or friendship seems pushed away.  

Currently, Wellspan Hospital is sponsoring an exhibit at the Majestic Theater in Gettysburg, PA. entitled:  "The Art Of Healing."  The focal point is a series of mixed medium art pieces addressing the theme of healing.  But the highlight of the exhibit is a bulletin board of colored index cards, written by persons with medical challenges, answering one or both questions:  what is the one thing you’d like for someone to know about your medical challenge; what has surprised you the most about your medical challenge? As I surveyed them, I was touched, especially by a ninth grader, who described herself as one “…finding her way in life…”   “I wish,” she wrote “people would understand that I just can’t make my negative thoughts about my life go away.  It takes work and it takes time…”

Yep.  Given, the depths of suffering, healing takes time.  But over time, with God, healing comes.  

         

On September 20, 1958, Martin Luther King was stabbed deeply in the chest at a book signing, by Izola Curry, a black woman (surprisingly), later deemed, mentally ill.  As the New York Times reported:

“The stabbing nearly cost Dr. King his life, requiring hours of delicate surgery to remove Ms. Curry’s blade, a seven-inch ivory-handled steel letter opener, which had lodged near his heart. If he had so much as sneezed, his doctors later told him, he would not have survived.”

But Martin Luther King did not sneeze, but remained remarkably calm, not caving to concern or fear.   Reflecting on why he opted for peace, and not panic, in pain -- deep pain -- King reflected:

“If I demonstrated unusual calm during the recent attempt on my life, it certainly was not due to any extraordinary powers that I possess.  Rather it was due to the power of God working through me.  Throughout this struggle for racial justice, I have constantly asked God to remove all bitterness from my heart and give me strength and courage to face any disaster that came my way…” 

A good angle to remember:  God can give us strength and courage to face any disaster. Or suffering.  

Please hear me:  it is not easy.  But it is not impossible -- as we recall mentors, such as Martin Luther King -- but most importantly -- the promise and challenge of God -- remembering:  "When I am afraid, I [will] put my trust in [God].  (Psalm 56:3, ESV).