Pain and suffering

just plain stink!

By David Myers
Southwest Kansas Register

The other day I stood in front of Sacred Heart Cathedral School in Dodge City and, with my pen and paper in hand, asked a little boy around age 6, “Why do you think God allows there to be suffering?”
He stood there for a moment looking at me with these big, innocent eyes and answered, “I’m not ‘opposed to talk to strangers!” and then he stomped on my foot and ran off in the other direction. I realized (as I limped back to the office) that he had given me the perfect answer: trying to figure out why there is pain and suffering while we are the children of an all-loving, all-powerful God, is like trying to figure out why water is wet.
I think that the trick is not to ask why. The trick is to celebrate life amid the pain and suffering -- even the most terrible pain, the most terrible suffering. Not an easy task.  
I know what you’re thinking: “But Dave, there is reason for suffering. It’s so we can grow. It’s so we can be closer to God and each other. It’s so we can be an example to others.”
Blah, blah, blah.
When it comes right down to it, suffering just plain stinks. I can’t begin to imagine why it was invented in the first place. The first time someone, say, bumped their head, I would like to think that a deafening alarm would have gone off in Heaven, with all God’s angels rushing to their computer screens: “We’ve got pain in sector 14-B! Who’s in charge of 14-B? Johnson, that’s you! Get on it, man! Alleviate that pain now or I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes at the next staff meeting! And I hope that’s not ‘depression’ I’m detecting in Sector 101-A! Thornburg!! Now’s not the time for a coffee break!”
Instead we have terrible pain; physical, emotional. And while suffering the pain of a serious ailment or emotional trauma is no cakewalk, the sheer helplessness felt by those around that person can cause those loved ones nearly unbearable emotional pain.
As you may have guessed, I’ve had a bit of experience in this realm lately. So, the other day, with my mood about as low as it can go, I’m out watering my lawn. I spray the hose high onto my Colorado Blue Spruce, giving it a nice bath. The tree reminds me of my old homestead deep in the Pike National Forest of Colorado, surrounded by pines, mule deer, and the occasional mouse that would creep into my tub at night and be waiting when I got up in the morning to shower.
I can’t help but realize that only a truly loving God could create something of such sheer beauty for his children to behold. Except for the mouse part. That was just gross.
With this realization, the pain and bitterness I was feeling toward the suffering that “God had allowed” gave way to a moment of celebration of God’s incredible beauty and kindness.
That’s when I found the rabbit.
I walked around the yard, watering different plants – weeds, flowers, whatever – and suddenly I see the remains of a deceased rabbit on my lawn (I guess saying it was deceased is redundant. You wouldn’t find the remains of a living rabbit). I secretly hoped that its current state wasn’t due to the effects of the leftovers I had tossed out the night before, especially since the little guy was holding his belly as if he had wanted to urp.
Again I found myself asking God why. “Just when my spirits began to lift, why did you see fit to place this deceased rabbit right in my path?” (I knew it had to be God because my neighbors were out of town.)
As I carefully lifted the precious creature with my shovel and plopped him into the hefty bag, I found myself once again celebrating God. Celebrating? With my hand holding a hefty bag containing a dead rabbit? I couldn’t help it! Even though it was dead, it reminded me of the things I love about Kansas – seeing rabbits and other wildlife – like possums, foxes, and old Mr. Delmar -- darting around the neighborhoods as I go for a walk. Sure, the rabbit had gone to the great suburb in the sky, but so will they all. And so will we all. And until then, their life – our life -- is such a tremendous gift.
I don’t know why there is pain and suffering, and I wouldn’t waste time wondering, because doing so isn’t going to make it go away.
In my humble opinion, the best thing to do is to treat pain and suffering as a reason to recognize even more fully the beauty in the world.
It’s a reason to celebrate what we have while we have it.