Turning Pain into Power

I’ve heard a lot of songs that talk about turning pain into power (usually the sort of songs I use for workout music). What people usually mean by this, as far as I can tell, is turning the pain of rejection and hardship into anger and determination to prove people wrong, to change the situation, or to get the job done. I have certainly used this technique, and I’ve found it very effective. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve discovered a still more powerful response to pain.

Grace

Before I left home for Japan,* I went to visit one of my parents’ neighbors. She suffers from lung cancer and bone cancer as well as having a broken shoulder that can’t be fixed because of the bone cancer. She can’t stand up straight or write because of her back and shoulder, and every time I see her she looks a bit more worn away. But you forget all that once she starts talking.

She always talks about the same things – about God’s grace, his compassion, his mercy and his kindness. When she discusses these things, she doesn’t ignore the suffering. She doesn’t discount it. She tells it exactly how it is. And interwoven with that, she speaks about peace and joy. Not despite the suffering I’ve seen my neighbor in, but through it, I have found her one of the most powerful women I’ve ever met – and I’ve met Harvard presidents, Wall Street investors, and Navy captains.

There are people who say Christianity is a crutch for those who can’t handle suffering. I’m inclined to think such people know little about either.  It is hard to describe what, exactly, the martyrs had when they went singing to their deaths. It is hard to describe the quality that I see in my neighbor’s face when she speaks. It is hard to describe the feeling that wells up in me when I answer suffering with faith. But it is unmistakably powerful. I am inclined to call it grace.

Perfection and Power

Grace isn’t something I learned about in Harvard philosophy classes or even during my seminary degree. No professor or textbook ever told me about these things; it was, rather, the people in my life who’d already experienced great suffering who explained it to me. But I think it’s one of those things that has to be experienced to truly be understood. For me, this isn’t an intellectual exercise or an ad hoc rationalization. It is a lesson I have learned in tears, time and time again.

How do we take pain and make it into power? In order to know that, we have to understand what power is. Power doesn’t come from position or money or pedigree. It comes from the strength of a person’s spirit. And as I get older, I am gradually coming to accept the fact that greatness of spirit comes with greatness of suffering. You cannot forge steel with the fire in your living room hearth. Even the incarnate Christ had to accept the cup in order to be perfected and come into his glory.

How, exactly, does suffering perfect us? That’s going to have to be another post. For now, I can only try and describe to you what it feels like, although I’m far less qualified to do so than many of the people I know.

Joy and Pain

Have you ever seen a movie where a character eats or drinks something magical and you actually see them grow onscreen? It feels like that. Even when I’m bawling my eyes out, I can feel myself getting stronger. Below the hysteria, there’s a peace. Below the anxiety, there’s a confidence. Below the tears, there’s a joy. And with every moment I suffer according to God’s will, they grow stronger.

When I was little, I sang about “joy like an ocean.” Sometimes, that’s what it feels like. Even though all the worries and troubles and trials of life are washing over me, no matter how hard the wind blows and drives up the waves, in the end, they’re only surface-deep. Sooner or later, they die away, and the deep sea of joy beneath remains, untroubled. Joy and pain can be intermingled without either growing the lesser. I can feel his Spirit on me in the midst of the pain. And I know in the end it will come right.

I could go on, but this post is long enough. There will have to be a part 2. For now, if you’re suffering and you need some power, I won’t pretend I understand what you’re going through. But I can tell you that, as trite as it may sound, the God of all comfort can bring blessing out of it. Hang in there!

*I am, in fact, writing this from Japan; however, I’m in quarantine for 3+ weeks in a barracks, so regrettably, I have no real news to offer. I’m beginning to understand how all those princesses locked in towers must have felt.

“Black Tears” by AdamCohn is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0