More on Pain and Suffering

"The men who were holding Jesus in custody taunted him while they beat him. They blindfolded him and asked him repeatedly, “Prophesy! Who hit you?” Insulting him, they said many other horrible things against him.” Luke 11:63-64

It would be the utmost arrogance for me to assume the pain I have endured for nearly six years comes close to Jesus’ suffering. I have a headache of unknown causes diagnosed as New Daily Persistent Headache. I endure pain twenty four hours a day, with an average of six out of 10. It takes more than one try most days to simply get out of bed, and my physical activity has been severely limited. My wife and I just visited our kids and granddaughter for 14 days in Minneapolis and I ventured outdoors only once, with the pain keeping down the rest of the time.

My pain is from an unknown source within my body; Jesus’ pain was afflicted by officials whose role was to serve the people. My pain does not threaten my life. Jesus’ beatings, apart from His crucifixion, most probably brought him within moments of death. No one insults me or spits at me or baits me in my pain. Yet Jesus was taunted the whole time he was beat; blindfolded and asked to “Prophesy”.

Many people have survived great abuse at the hands of other humans. Stories of POWs and political prisoners sometimes astound us. We think humanity has made progress, until a person, group or political entity decides that anyone who disagrees needs to pay the price. But Jesus’ suffering is different. To read the somewhat brief accounts of His suffering and death, and to compare it to other sufferers’ stories, we sense something nearly serene in the way that Jesus bears His pain.

I cannot explain it; but, although He is bullied and mocked, we are almost certain that He is the One in control; not the people with the whips, blindfolds and thorns. He is the One who carries destiny with Him, not Pilate or Herod. He is the One driving history forward, not the crowd chanting for His crucifixion. And so, Jesus’ suffering stands apart from all other suffering of the world.

And, to make the scene even more stark, Jesus has done nothing wrong. I don’t mean that He is politically not-guilty; He has literally never done an immoral thing in His life. He faced temptations of many sorts, but never gave in, never succumbed to sin. When I bring up a childhood memory of being punished unfairly for something I did not do, I only scratch the surface of this moment. Here is God, come in our own flesh and blood, and we, the brutal ones brutalize the Innocent!

We still do it, sadly often in His name.

But today this story is more personal. My own pain has kept me from working much, after 14 full days of rest. Two days back and I have come in late and left early both days. My mind is muddy and my head feels ready to explode. Today is one of the days when I honestly wonder, “If He suffered for me, then what is this suffering of mine about?”

It is easy to say, “Oh, I have much better empathy for those with chronic pain now.” And, yes, I do. But I was there three years ago. That was quite enough time plus pain to develop empathy, thank you very much. I pray. I try to meditate on Jesus’ sufferings and truly wonder what they mean in relationship to the continued pain I suffer.

It could be said that my pain draws me close to God. But does it? My honest statement is, “No, I am more selfish than I ever was. I am more demanding. My pain keeps my consciousness almost constantly on myself.” And yes, I do try to put my pain “in God’s hands”. But the honest truth is, I am not completely sure how Jesus’ suffering relates to my own yet.

I want to be healed, and I am not. I want to feel more spiritual, and I only feel less able to even be human. I want to be more compassionate, and I am short and cranky. I want to pray more, and the pain makes me end my prayers early. I want to write, one of my greatest joys, and have to force myself to the keyboard. I want to succeed in my calling as a pastor, and have little energy or creativity to do so.

And yet, I cannot deny the story. My tears run easy because I feel forgotten; yet I read of His and I know His pain is mine, and mine is His. I cannot explain it, and I feel simply like dying at times, but who else could this be but the Son of God, suffering for me? (Do I need to add, that, by extension, His suffering is for “you”, for “all”?)