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March 27 2011   -   Lent 3
Romans 5:1-5

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An Odyssey of Pain and Faith
A Personal Testimony

“We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit…”  (Romans 5:3-5)

These words of the apostle Paul are powerful and perplexing.  “We rejoice in our sufferings” , says Paul.  My first reaction is either Paul is delusional, or he is speaking out of an experience of profound spiritual maturity. 

There is a lot of suffering that occurs all around us every day.  Perhaps most of it goes unseen as it is carried in silent and wounded hearts.   “We rejoice in our sufferings,”  says Paul.  No, I do not!  I avoid suffering at all costs.  I am much more into comfort and coziness and contentment than suffering!  

Did you know that over 70 million Americans live with some kind of chronic pain due to illness or injury?  Perhaps you count yourself among them.  Chronic pain is defined as pain that does not go away, or it may go away for a short time only to return.  Chronic pain affects one’s quality of life in countless ways. 

For most of the last decade, I have lived with chronic pain.  In my case, the core issue has been acute degenerative disk disease that rages in my spine from my neck to my tailbone – no level of my spine is unaffected.  As a result 40% of my spine has been fused, and the prospect of more surgery and other alternative treatments for pain management looms on the horizon.  

For sure, I am on an odyssey – a journey of coming to terms with my pain.  It is a journey that is not only physical, but has deep emotional and spiritual implications that perhaps are the hardest part. I have reached a point where I have accepted that chronic pain is now an inseparable part of who I am.  It is as inseparable from me as an arm or a leg.  I cannot leave it behind when I venture out the door to be about the affairs of my day or cast it off in the evening like the clothes I wear. It goes with me everywhere I go. 

In the week following my recent shoulder replacement surgery things reached a crescendo, and I hope a turning point in my life.  In the days following surgery, I learned that the pain in my other shoulder is due to a torn rotator cuff that will require more surgery.   For the past six months, my spine pain has become more acute, and more tests have been scheduled to see if I need more surgery on my spine.  In the week following my shoulder surgery, I became depressed - a sense of despair came over me.  One night I had a dream of ingesting a couple of bottles of prescription meds that would bring an end to my suffering; a dream that frightened me to the point that I gave my prescription meds to Marcia to administer. For a brief time I did not trust myself. 

In the midst of those days of darkness two women from my past came to visit me. Oh, they did not literally visit me, but virtually visited me in my consciousness.  I will introduce you to them.

In the summer of 2001 a man came up to me after worship one morning, introduced himself as Bill, and asked a straightforward question.  His question was “Do you do funerals for non-members?”   I noticed a tear in his eye, so I asked, “Would you like to come in my office and talk about it?”  His wife, Carol, was in a local Aurora hospital in a coma, dying of a disease with a long name  that involved severe, acute complications in her lungs and imminent lung failure.  The doctors expected she wouldn't last 48 hours.  Bill was beginning to make preparations for his wife’s death. 

Carol did not die within 48 hours, but a week later she came out of her coma.   Something amazing and miraculous began to happen.  She began to get better – something nobody expected.  Over the course of the next two years, every time she was told she would never be able to do something again, she set out to do it, and every time she did it.   She was told she would likely never breathe without assistance – she did. She was told she should not expect to go home, but would need a lengthy rehab hospital stay and then a nursing home – she went home in a matter of a few months.  She was told it was unlikely she would ever have the strength to walk unassisted again – she walked unassisted.  She was told she would never drive a car again – she drove a car.  She was told it was impossible for her to go without an oxygen supplement – guess what?  She and Bill finally moved to near sea level where she lives without oxygen assistance.  

I got to know Carol in that two year period.  I visited her frequently, and I watched her mount a monumental effort in the face of her suffering, pain and disability.  She said something to me that emerged in my consciousness two weeks ago – something that evidently made a deeper impression upon me than I realized.   She said, “As sick as I am, I refuse to be defined by my illness.  My illness is only a  part of who I am.”   

I got know Beth about the same time.  Beth was wonderful athlete as a teenager.  She was a great runner – she loved to run – lived to run.  When Beth was 20 years old she was diagnosed with MS.  She is now in her 30’s, and over the years since diagnosis, she has battled through the drastic ups and downs of severe MS.  Sometimes she walks with crutches, sometimes she is in a wheelchair.  She is a “Facebook” friend, and I follow her life.  She puts forth a huge regular, daily effort in physical therapy to counter the effects of MS.  She married, she had a child, she works full time, she goes to school, she advocates for the disabled, she skis and bikes with special equipment.   Beth, like Carol, simply will not be defined by her MS.  She will tell you that MS is a part of who she is but not all of who she is. 

As I spent my days in depression wallowing in self-pity, these two courageous women visited me – virtually that is, as they came into my consciousness and touched my heart.  They helped me realize (and this is the only way I can express it) that self-pity sucks – it is an ugly and dark place that distorts reality and people – a dead end street with no outlets – a self-destructive mode that turns one negative and condescending.   These two women (saints) burst into my consciousness, embraced my broken heart, extended themselves to me and pulled me out.  You see, I cannot merely speak intellectually about or create a systematic theology from these words of Paul.  Paul’s words only make sense when they take expression in a human life. 

Both Carol and Beth are deeply spiritual people.  Beth writes a blog, and she writes about her faith and MS.  She writes about the time when she was diagnosed.  She was in college, and she sought out the campus pastor.  She writes, “I reached out to our (campus pastor). We met on the beautiful campus, in the beautiful chapel - in the basement - him, his secretary, and me.  We prayed together, we were still together, we took everything in together. And it’s one of the 2 most profound times in my life where I've sensed being (divinely) held.  And then I knew I would be ok, no matter what happened.”[i]

“We rejoice in our sufferings, (another way to translate that is “We know joy in our sufferings”) knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit…” 

Carol and Beth exude the love of God – it drips out of the cracks in their lives that pain has inflicted.  My experience was that Divine Love overflowed out of their lives and into mine, even though  we are separated by time and distance.  However,  time and distance were not obstacles for the Divine Presence that brought them to me and lifted me to a place and an experience that I can only describe as, yes, JOY, pain and all! 

What have I learned? 

I have learned that it is only when I embrace my pain as my own that I can experience the wonder of a Divine Presence that holds me even tighter still and defines me even more than my pain. 

I have l learned that divine presence is not absent when pain and suffering occur.  Beth, in her blog says it this way, “(As) I look back (on my life), I've always perceived that God is with me. I don't believe that God gave me MS because I could handle it, or because it's part of some great plan - because God is good. God is with me through everything - bad and good - and there's a lot of good. There's even a new medicine which is helping me do a lot of things better.  So my faith journey continues. I don't know where life will go, but I do know that (Divine Presence) will be with me.”[ii]

I have learned that my pain, for however long it lasts, even if every day for the rest of my life,  need not define me.  Why?  Because Divine Love can be poured into my heart – and most often it happens through the overflowing vessels of the lives of others, as it did with these saintly women through whom I was given access to grace. 

I have learned that Paul’s words make no sense until they take expression in human life.  And of course, his words came to expression in the life of Jesus who was not deterred or turned back by fear of pain and suffering as he embodied the love of God in his life and shared it where it was needed most: with the rejected, scorned, excluded, suffering, sick, victims of power and religion– even when a cross of execution stood in his path as a consequence.  Jesus’ life bears witness to the truth that the Divine Presence takes up residence even and especially in our pain and suffering.  Richard Rohr, contemporary Christian mystic and founder of the Center For Action and Contemplation says, “No one comes to God just by loving or suffering, yet it is those who have loved and suffered who seem to come to God more deeply.”[iii]  How true for my saintly friends – Carol and Beth!

I would dare say that we all bear the marks and scars and open wounds of some kind of pain and suffering  whether it be physical, emotional, mental, spiritual: the physical pain that comes with  illness or injury; or the deep emotional-spiritual pain of loss, grief, failure, betrayal, loneliness, rejection, guilt, shame, whatever.  When we embrace our pain and suffering as our own and allow our brokenness to intersect with the brokenness of others something miraculous can happen – the Divine Presence (God) can burst into the moment so much so and so profoundly that we no longer need to be defined or controlled by pain and suffering.  Our pain and suffering can even be transformative in that it makes us more compassionate and responsive to others in this world who suffer and are in great pain.  We stand on common ground and in solidarity with anyone who suffers and be empowered to reach out to empower others.  We might even experience Paul’s words taking the profane and holy shape of our lives; and with Paul we too might be able to say and even sing, “We know joy in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hrts through the Holy Spirit…”