Why the Pain?

It's really late right now. Ok, so technically it's really early but you get the idea. Let me start by saying that I have no idea where this is going to go. I have no quote to write about, no song to post, no wonderful passage from the latest book I've read. Nothing. I just feel like writing. It's kind of soothing. I think that's why I started doing it in the first place. Used to be playing music did it for me (kind of still does) but now it's writing. Tends to clear my head.

I wondered a little tonight why God allows so much sorrow, heartache, and pain to enter our lives. Why joy is often seemingly held hostage until we pay the ransom of hardship. Why does it have to be like that? Why can't good things just happen to good people? Why can't a loving God make His children's journey through this time on earth a smooth one? But no. We labor for the sake of Christ and in return we often don't get all the joy we think we deserve. Mind you, sometimes we do. The narrow path can at times be very rewarding. But I think we expect sometimes that since we have God in our corner we should be shielded from the sorrows and heartaches of this world. It never happens like that does it? And you know what? Good. I'm glad God doesn't just swoop in and erase the pain of those He calls His children. How intensely unfulfilling would that kind of life be? (Just for the record, I'm going to bed now. I can't keep my eyes open and my thoughts are a little jumbled. It will be interesting to see what comes of this in the morning.)

Ok, I'm back. But it's not the next morning, it's a week later and I just erased about half of what I had already written. Not so much because I didn't like it. I kind of did. But God has once again decided to intercede into my thoughts and what I just erased didn't flow well with where I am about to go with this. Let me first of all say that if you've never read "The Screwtape Letters", you really need to. What an absolutely amazing glimpse into human behavior. Now let me go back a little. Last week when I started writing this, I wasn't sure if I would post it or not. I figured I'd look at it the next day and either decide to add to it or erase it. I almost erased it twice. But I hung on to it a little longer. I think mostly because of the pull that I felt to write it all down that night. I didn't want to dismiss that. So, on Wednesday I was working my second job. It's pretty slow in the evenings and I had "The Screwtape Letters" with me to read. And there it was; chapter eight. I knew almost immediately I had to write about it, but as I thought on my way home how to put it all down, it became clear that I had already started. So, here I am now a week later and I guess I do have a passage from the latest book I've read.

Briefly, for those that have not read it, "The Screwtape Letters" is a satirical collection of letters from one demon (Screwtape) to another (his nephew Wormwood) regarding Wormwood's efforts to keep his patient (a human) away from the path of God. I wish I could go into more detail but you just have to read it. In fact, I think I’m going to go ahead and post this chapter in its entirety next week. There's just too much good stuff for me to condense here. But I am going to pull out a couple of sentences that really summed it all up for me.

One of Lewis' points here is that while God is very real and seemingly present to us when we choose to accept Him, "Sooner or later He withdraws, if not in fact, at least from their conscious experience." Why is this? Why would God choose to withdraw those utopic feelings we have at the beginning of our walk with Him? He is certainly capable of lavishing those on us every moment of the day. As Lewis writes,

"He leaves the creature to stand up on its own legs - to carry out from the will alone duties which have lost all relish. It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature He wants it to be. Hence the prayers offered in the state of dryness are those which please Him best."

And here are the last couple of sentences.

"He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles. Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why He has been forsaken, and still obeys."

It is important to remember that God is always present in our lives. Always. But those wonderful, euphoric feelings are not. By His nature He can not actively woo us to virtue like the enemy can to vice. So he allows us to feel the pain. The heartache. The sorrows. All the while He is standing right there beside us, just waiting for us to realize it and call out to Him. To offer our prayers in the state of dryness. To continually desire to walk even though we may stumble. To carry out by sheer will, duties which have lost their relish. And to look upon a universe seemingly void of His presence, with no desire to do His will, and still obey. And in the end it's all because, as Lewis said, it's through those troughs, much more than the peaks, that we are growing into the creatures that He wants us to be.

How much would we really know about God's mercy, forgiveness and love for us if we never experienced those trials, sorrows, and hardships? It's so easy to call on His name and do His will when we are on top of the world, but it's what we do when we are looking up from the depths and no longer feel His presence that really matters. Are we looking to the heavens and saying "My God, why have you forsaken me?" Or are we bowing humbly before Him, knowing that He is in fact there by our side even though we can't always feel Him? Instead of bemoaning the trials and pain in our life, we need to embrace them. To realize that it is our faithfulness in those times of trial that draws us ever closer to the One who is and always will be right by our side. Even if once and a while He must take away His hand.