The Problem of Pain & The Quest for Truth

I realized something today. And for me it was quite profound.

Jesus, when he was on earth, could have avoided sadness, pain, sorrow, and the sickness of this world. He could have avoided feeling all of those oppressive emotions.

He didn't avoid them. John 11:30 "Jesus wept."

Whenever I feel anything remotely negative I immediately try to cheer myself up. Or make those negative feelings go away. It makes sense in a way. If something is hurting you try to make the pain stop.

Emotions are more complex. They are oppressive but they are these little red flags. Telling us something is not right. When we cease to feel we become desensitized. We should feel oppressed by the darkness of the world. It's not right. It shouldn't feel right.

So how did Jesus deal with the darkness? He went to God. He turned on a light. He prayed. And prayed some more. He sought God with all his heart and worshipped him. He still felt the pain though.

I'm going to continue exploring this problem. The problem of pain. Why does God allow us to experience such intense suffering, both emotional and physical? I know Jesus warned us we would. Yet I still struggle with it.

It might be worth noting at this point that awhile ago I prayed that God would increase my faith and trust in him. In fact I have been praying for that a lot recently. I do believe, that God is answering my prayer. I've been having more doubts, but trust and faith aren't passive. You can't grow them through complacency or comforts. They are only grown in toil, doubts, and struggles. God loves me. That is the one thing I know with absolute certainty. I choose to stake everything I have on that. That is my axiom, the starting point I shall use as I embark on this journey.

The journey for truth. I don't want to settle for platitudes. I don't want to cover up my doubts or shove them in the corner. I am going to wrestle with them. It is time to discover what is real, and what is not.

Ski Poles and Death

When I hear that someone has died it feels like someone has handed me a pair of skis to carry.
It's awkward, I don't know whether to carry them over my shoulder or in my arms.
They keep slipping out and hitting me in the shins when I carry them in my arms. And when I balance them across my shoulder I end up hitting people with the ends. So I keep trying different ways, but none of them quite works.

Hearing that someone has died is this unmanageable, difficult, and strange load to carry. I don't know whether to leave it lying where I found it, hurl it in the opposite direction or carry it. If I should carry it, then how?

Regardless, if I choose to carry them now or later, I will have to carry this. If not now I'll be forced to come back and take it up later. I don't want that. So I choose to carry it now.

Come in!

Come in!
Grab a glass of water.
That mug over there will do.

Come in!
And say hello!
How are you?
Are you happy or are you sad?
Here listen to this song, take a cookie and settle down.

I want to hear everything. Every thing you have to say.

Am I smiling?
You're smiling too.
Because it is good to see you.

I can't wait for you to stay. Until things are like they were. But different.

New and old mixed together like chocolate and caramel.

Come in!
Take a seat. You look beat. Not good at all.
Spill it out and let me share whatever it is you carry.
And here hold what I have instead.

A letter, I read, from a friend about her cat who got stuck in a Church pew.
And couldn't stop meowing too, and everyone wondered where the sound came from.
As they tried to hear the sermon.

Come in!
Collapse on that chair over there.
You're back again, what does it take to make you stay away?
I wink, because no matter how you annoy I'm glad that I get to complain to you and not someone else.

Come in!
It's been far too long, my friend.
I say those words with love, in place of the oh so glorious hug.
People say I'm not affectionate. But if you open your eyes to see. You'd hear what I mean when I say my friend. 

Kenneth Hampton

Here is a story about a man named Kenneth Hampton.

A man of few wants and simple pleasures. He drank coffee and the Montana mornings. Although that sounds too poetic. He did love Montana though. In the morning he ate a hearty breakfast. He went to work, played the guitar. Told too many jokes to count. He loved a good burger. Hardy's Burgers just about hit the spot.
His emails were short but not sweet. Instead they were savory like his favorite burgers. Simple but they hit the spot.

"How are you?"

"How's Elisa the Actress?"

"How's my favorite grandaughter?"
Okay, he didn't say that last one. Because he actually had a lot of grandaughters. Too many to have one favorite. And he had lots of grandsons. And he had three fantastic children.

They each took up his arts.

All three took up music. And all three took up his sense of humor in a way. Especially the last one, he's got it to the core.

Was he stubborn? Stubborn as heck. And so was his wife, my grandma. Both so stubborn but I do believe they loved each other. Despite their fights, despite their differences, despite everything they ever said- they loved each other. That makes me wonder what he's going to say when he sees her in heaven.

Boy, I'd love to be there for that.

So there's been talk about him kicking the bucket for awhile. But like I said, he's stubborn (as heck). He held out through a lot. But I'm not going to talk about that, because it's done. He's through the worst of it and come out the other side. He did good.

Here's to Hope!

Here's to Hope!
Vibrant, persistent, unflagging, nagging, unquenchable, untamable hope.

Here's to LIFE!

The life God has given me! The life God has given you!

The pain, the hurt, the anguish, the doubts, the fears, the healing, the growth, the joy, the faith, the courage we find.

Here's to God's Promises!

Which your doubts can't change. Which lies can't change. Which your fear can't change. Which anything and everything that could ever be can never change.

Here's to a FRESH start!

Take a deep breath. Does it feel good? Do you feel unworthy? I do. But hey God knows what he's doing, just hold on tight.

Here's to LOVE!

God's love. Which builds and heals and mends and cures and saves and cleanses, redeems, remakes, and causes us to live.

Here's to PURPOSE!

God's Kingdom. This is not the end. This is not what will be. The world is under construction, being remade into God's Kingdom.

And dang. Isn't that an amazing reason to hope, to live, to dream?

Here's to this moment!

Awful or Great. Mundane or a Revelation. It is what it is. So see what God can do.

Watch and see what God WILL do.

Rain or Shine

Sometimes when its cold it's good to remember what it feels like to be warm.

You shouldn't trick yourself into thinking it's warm when it isn't-- that's called hypothermia and is quite dangerous.

Similarly, if you're sad or depressed you shouldn't trick yourself into being happy. Don't lie and say life is fine. And don't lie and say that everything is horrible and life will never be good again.

Its ironic that we say that. 

"Life is bad." or "life is good."

No. Life is neither good nor bad. It simply is. It is us, and our situations who are good or bad. It is us and our actions that can bear the label "good" or "bad."

Thankfully we don't have to go around carrying those labels. Instead I bear the label "righteous." 

Well, you might say I don't deserve to carry around that nametag. My friend Jesus, who did deserve very much, gave it to me. And since he deserves it he has the right to wear it and give it to whomever he chooses.

I'm rambling. Back to my point. Remember good times and bad times equally. Don't let yourself be bogged down, remember what the sunshine feels like when it's raining and remember the cool beautiful feel of the rain when it's blazing hot.

Change

Poetry is like cleaning a closet.

It lets me pull everything out and see what exactly is crammed into my soul

I can throw away the bad

Recycle the okay

And reorganize my thoughts and feelings into something manageable

Then once I've pulled the mess out and sorted through everything

I can replace it back into a neat tidy arrangement

That's how I wish it worked.

More often I pull everything out, look at it, and cram it back in largely untouched and even messier than before. 

God- he's the only deep cleaner. The only true housekeeper of my soul. The only one who can undo all the knots. The only one who can clean the stains on the shelves and carpet. The only one who can heck, tear it all down and rebuild a brand new closet. Brand new wood, brand new shelves, brand new carpet, brand new lights, and doors and doorknobs. Everything bright and clean and durable. 

And on the shelves books, but only the books I need. Instead of a pile of old clothes and string and necklaces and games and half folded jeans and boxes filled with who knows what. 

Well instead of all that junk that I thought I needed so much I just have what I need.

A couple of books, a pair of shoes, a coat to stay warm, a brightly colored box, and a beautiful gray rock.

Now looking at it, I wondered why I would ever want to go back to the old closet. The one filled with stains and messes and untied knots and boxes and boxes of rubbish. 

So here I am sitting in my old closet, wondering how in the world it will ever be like this brand new closet God showed me in a  picture. His promise of what his rennovations will look like once complete.

He's already started but, I keep stopping him and shoving back my old things onto the shelves. 

I guess I thought that would stop him. That somehow I, with my mistakes could prevent the creator of the universe from building something new. That somehow I am not doing enough to let him change me. I'm not praying enough, otherwise I would have changed already. Wouldn't I?

But tonight is late. And I am tired. And God has forgiven me. That's all I need. And heck, haha he created the world. Of course he is changing me. God's got this.