Thoughts on the meaning of pain

Pastor Richard Wurmbrand

Written by Reese Maguire

I was reading through a July 2006 issue of The Voice of the Martyrs newsletter, when I came across “Little Notes from Pastor Wurmbrand” and his thoughts on pain. I thought you might enjoy hearing them, too.

Pain has meaning

I have known no believer who at some time or other didn’t struggle with his faith because of pain. Why should a good God have ordained pain? “Pain is a more terrible lord of mankind that even death itself,” wrote Albert Schweitzer.

However, we are told that the main function of pain is to signal the body of any harm to its tissues. We need such signals, admittedly, but could we not do with something less traumatic?

Experience has shown that what is not painful does not work. We do harm to our bodies with our smoking, excessive drinking, poor eating habits and promiscuity. Our soft choices may lead us to cancer and heart disease, but because we feel no pain before it is too late, we continue these suicidal practices. Pain is a sign of the intense desire of God to do us good.

Muslims attribute pain to fate, kismet; Hindus to karma; other Middle Easterners to the evil eye. Pain has meaning.

If God permits suffering, we can be sure it is more painful for Him who permits it than for us who bear it. If we had His wisdom and sought our salvation as passionately as He seeks it for us, we would choose to embrace or walk through the very sufferings that afflict us. Therefore, believers bear with understanding the suffering imposed upon them.

Millstones anyone?

Every Thursday, VOM-Canada releases The Persecution & Prayer Alert, a news and prayer digest on the persecuted Church. This week, the stories were especially difficult as the victims were children and an elderly man. How does one respond to such injustice, such brutality? (You can read the Persecution & Prayer alert here.)

Twyla Penner, a VOM Ambassador and wife of our Webmaster (Twyla also works on the site), wrote the following in response to this week's Prayer Alert. I hope it will challenge you as it challenged me to not recoil from the horror of persecution, but to draw ever closer in prayer to both its victims and perpetrators.

When The Voice of the Martyrs publishes its material, no one pretends that we're handing out warm fuzzies. The stories we have to tell are hard hitting and in your face. We make no apology for that. In fact, we strongly believe that you need to hear these stories. When there's an 11-year-old boy who is living in iron chains and subjected to starvation and harsh slavery,we believe that you need to hear about it. When that same boy is told that he'll have his freedom if he will only turn to Islam, we're driven to speak out. When a 14-year-old girl sits in horrified silence because of her rapists, we cannot remain silent.

I'm not sure how you react when you hear of things like this. I realize that your reaction might be to turn away. It's too much to take. Yes, it is. These young people agonize in torment; it is too much. Do you want to rescue them? Hold them? Pray for them? I must admit, one of my first responses is to look around for the nearest millstone -- I'd be most happy to secure one to the necks of the perpetrators and be there to push them off of a cliff into the deepest ocean. Didn't Jesus say that even that would be better for them than His judgment? I think my response is somewhat natural.

Then I have to take a step back and look at the whole context of scripture.

1. The "worse than a millstone" judgment is God's to dole out. I have no business trying to step into His shoes.

2. God offers even the abusers His unconditional forgiveness and grace. That's a hard pill to swallow. If these men turn to God, we'll be spending eternity with them, and so will the faithful kids and youth that have been so deeply scarred by them.

3. I'm called to do the same. Wait a minute! I have to offer love, forgiveness and grace? Absolutely! If you've ever been abused or watched someone you love be abused, you know that this is not only impossible in ourselves, it doesn't even seem right to forgive. Abusers deserve the millstone! Yes, they absolutely do; but quite frankly, all of us deserve God's judgment. Granted, most of us have never committed such heinous acts. We have, however, offended our Holy God and only live and breathe by His grace. Abusers can and do change. To adamantly state that they can never change is to declare that their hellish acts are greater than God. Jesus commanded us to pray for them. I swallow hard, ask for God's grace and do so.

A question that is repeatedly asked by the abused is echoed in the Psalms: "Where is God in all of this?" He's right here, in you and me. If we've accepted His free gift and allowed Him to take control of our lives, His Spirit is living in us.When we, through His Spirit, sit with the rape victim and patiently wait for her to muster the strength to talk, we are God's heart and ears to her. When we tousle the lice infested head of, and embrace the boy that knows only heartache, we become Jesus' arms to him. When we hold the hand of a child who has lost her Daddy and allow her tears to soak our own hands, it's Jesus' hands that hold hers. Taking this even further, when we look the abuser in the eye and honestly tell him or her, "Jesus loves you!" we express the grace that motivated Jesus to agonize on the cross. He's given to us the task of taking His presence to others. In that sense, will we allow God to be "right there"? Let's leave the millstones to God and get busy bringing His presence to the darkest places in people's lives.

Scott Cairns’ The End of Suffering

One of the best books I've read this winter is the small but powerful The End of Suffering by poet, memoirist and essayist Scott Cairns (so small that I somehow managed to misplace my copy after finishing it, and so powerful that I ordered myself a new one immediately!)

In 2006, while attending my first Master of Fine Arts program residency, I had the pleasure of hearing Cairns give a keynote address at an annual arts workshop which ran alongside the residency. Cairns spoke on that year's theme: "Love and affliction: The paradox of art and suffering." The address was the seed of what Cairns calls a "study of suffering," in which he draws from the life and works of a wide variety of individuals--from prophets and poets to early church thinkers and classic literary authors.

I find Cairns’ book to be a profoundly moving meditation on the questions raised by human suffering, including the relationship between God's purposes and our pain. In fact, so rich was my experience of reading it that I suspect it will be fruit for some future blog reflections, especially as I've had some more time to consider how Cairns’ insights connect to the particular affliction of Christian persecution.

I thought it worthwhile for now, however, to simply bring this beautiful little book to your attention—and if any of you have read it I would love to hear from you. If you're interested in learning more about it, you can read an excerpt on the publisher's website. I'd also encourage you to check out the musings of another blogger whose entry on the book I happened upon recently and really enjoyed.