The Suffering Arms Race
There are many topics in Christian theology that seem rather distanced from real life. Our doctrine of suffering is not one of those topics. Suffering is not theoretical to any of us. Our world is fallen and cursed—a fact seen every day by every Christian.
The Two Aspects of Suffering
Each event of suffering is always comprised of two different aspects. The first is the level of trial or difficulty itself. Certain cocktails mixed from the poisoned fruit of Eden are objectively worse than others. Being told-off harshly by a friend and losing a family member to an improvised explosive device are two radically different experiences. These experiences, however, originate from the same great tragedy—when the first man and woman selected self over God. Every single sigh, every single thorn, every single anguished tear is a very real product of very real fruit taken from a real tree in a real garden.
The second element in our experience of suffering is our ability to endure such misery. There is a reason James speaks of trials building endurance (James 1:2-4). My wonderfully naïve and innocent two-year-old’s life is ruined if he’s misplaced his stuffed fox for bedtime. Such is normal for a two-year-old, but we’d be concerned if he exhibited the same level of emotional trauma if he was seventeen and ought to have developed some resilience (and outgrown his stuffed fox). The things that stagger us and bring crises of faith as young believers are minor turbulence once we’ve walked with Christ for decades. Maturity brings with it the blessings of perspective, built by watching the faithfulness of God meet our daily troubles time and again for our good.
Suffering Gone Haywire
Human beings are notoriously balky at handling the good gifts God gives us. We’ve ruined Eden, stoned prophets, hated the Messiah, persecuted the church, and worshipped the creation rather than the Creator. Consider human ineptitude in relation to suffering and you have an exponentially explosive combination. Even those of us with new hearts struggle to rightly respond to suffering, though intellectually we know it is always being worked for our good (Rom. 8:28). There are many different ways we can respond poorly to suffering, but I want to focus on two in particular.
My Suffering Isn’t Really Suffering
The first way we can respond badly to suffering corresponds to the first category above. Sometimes people dismiss the reality of their own suffering by virtue of someone else’s deeper pain. A little while ago, a young man shared with me his misery in his job. He had trained and gotten a degree for this profession and discovered within the first year of graduation that he wasn’t well-suited for the field. “But I shouldn’t complain. There are so many Christians suffering far worse than I am in other countries,” he concluded. Now on the one hand, many Christians are suffering far worse in other countries. However, nowhere does the Bible treat lesser suffering as not suffering. If one individual’s suffering cannot be called suffering because someone else is suffering more greatly, there is only one person in the world at a time who could lay claim to being a sufferer. Beyond that, there would really only be one person throughout all human history who could be spoken of as having suffered, namely, the man Christ Jesus. The Bible portrays a deeply suffering Messiah without minimizing the trials of His followers as not true suffering. Paul compares his sufferings on behalf of the church—many of which were physical in nature—with Christ’s (Col. 1:24). Peter tells Christians who will toil under persecution to rejoice that they “share in the sufferings of Christ” (1 Pet. 4:13).
Labeling lesser suffering as suffering gives us the ability to find hope in God, as Scripture points us to much hope in the midst of large and small troubles. Not every human cry descends to “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” but then again, neither does every Psalm. Even though the sufferings of believers are but a pale shadow of the full wrath of the Father, willingly borne by the Son, they are still sufferings that share the same ultimate origin as Jesus’ agony.
You Just Wait, You Whiney Wimp
A second—and perhaps subtler—way of trading in the suffering arms race is to look down on other Christians whose suffering appears to be lesser than ours. We hear prayer requests and think, “I wish that were my deepest trouble!” or “You call that suffering? Sounds more like whining to me.” We should be quick to note that often people suffer in ways we know nothing about. Systemically hurtful relationships with parents or children, unrevealed victimization from sexual abuse, grief over miscarriages or infertility—often people bear hurts that few know. Trading places with someone else’s providence might be more than we bargained for. But other times, in contrast to us, people indeed live what seems to be charmed lives, where their health is good, their relationships are pretty, and the money is always there.
Many preachers have described suffering as a “greenhouse for growth.” Trials can provide the opportunity to grow more quickly because they force us to rely on the Lord in ways we typically don’t when life is pleasant. However, the heat of the greenhouse doesn’t automatically cultivate lush vines and hearty plants. If weed seeds manage to penetrate the barrier, they too will sprout at a faster rate. Suffering provides an opportunity for self-righteousness, self-absorption, self-exaltation, bitterness, pride, and the rest to spring up in our hearts.
The fact that we are suffering doesn’t automatically mean that we’re growing in Christian maturity. Indeed, a haughty spirit or lack of compassion towards others’ sufferings—regardless of their magnitude—indicates that we are not nearly so much like our Savior as we think. Isn’t it fascinating that our hearts are so quick to turn what is meant for our growth into a poison? Our trials are meant to grow us in the fruits of the Spirit, which always include love, kindness, goodness, and gentleness (Gal. 5:22-24).
Trumpeting one’s own suffering, even if only internally, demonstrates a tragic misunderstanding of how suffering is supposed to change us. Suffering is meant to make us look like the human nature of Jesus. Never once does our Savior belittle someone else’s struggle, though He knows His sufferings will be far greater. Blind Bartimaeus does not hear the stern rebuke of “Your sight? I’m about to have spikes put through my arms.” The lepers are not told, “Unable to go to the temple? I’m about to come face to face with the Father and He will be holding bowls of wrath.” Jesus looks with compassion on the crowds, men and women battered and bruised by the fall, and He heals them. If any had a right to dismiss the sufferings of others, it is Him. After all, He and He alone suffered every bruise, every slight, and every pain because of what others had done, without any personal participation in or agreement with the rebellion that produced all this suffering.
Let Us Each Drink Our Own Cup
Concern over other people’s suffering for self-centered reasons is nothing new. In one of Jesus’ last recorded interactions with the Apostles, Jesus informs Peter that he will follow his Savior in crucifixion (John 21:15-23). Peter, no doubt perturbed by this, responds by gesturing to John and asks Jesus the equivalent of “What about that guy?” Jesus declines to answer Peter’s question, offering Peter, “What is that to you? You follow me.”
God has a different road for each of us to walk. Some trails are beset by boulders at every bend, while others are smooth and broad. Resentment towards others for their easy path is ultimately resentment towards God. He, not they, set their path before the foundation of the world. Self-exaltation as to the difficulty of our own path is ultimately taking pride over that which we had no control over, as God’s rebuke of Job makes abundantly clear.
Conclusion
If there are those around us suffering less than we are, then we ought to be thankful that they experience less grief than we do. The fact that we wish we had their circumstances demonstrates that we ought to rejoice with them. For those who do not handle suffering as well as we might, we ought to pray for them, engage them, disciple them, and weep with them. After all, we were once there as well. Whether this life is full of great suffering or relatively scant trials, we all endure as aliens and strangers, knowing this world is not as it ought to be. Let us all await together that great day when tears cease and pain is no more.
Questions for Reflection
- Which of the two errors are you most predisposed to make? How does Scripture work to correct that thinking?
- How can you pray for those around you as they suffer?