Suffering

Suffering

            I don’t know any one who hasn’t suffered in some way or another.  I also know people who by their very nature of experience are not very compassionate to suffering, at least in obvious terms.  I do however know many people who not only have, but do suffer daily; God has reminded me on many occasion, sin and suffering they are synonymous.   But this was not my question.  My question was why do we need to suffer, it is painful and I don’t like it, let me rephrase that I hate it.  My question wasn’t about any one particular incident either. I mean really, I knew a lot of people in heaven and admittedly this was the brunt of my suffering.  Since I did have this unique opportunity to sit and talk to God, I thought, what the heck why not start talking about everything.  It was clear to me that suffering was the epitome of the human experience and is the core reason for most of us to change. And this is not ever an easy thing I knew that too, Jesus Christ; enough said.  I wanted to know, why is suffering so important and is one man’s suffering greater than another’s?  I asked this question because through the years I had often heard it said among sufferers that there are indeed levels and standards even under the scrutiny of suffering itself.  Frankly, I needed to understand because not only did I want all forms of suffering to end but I also wanted to end it for any future sufferers.  So when I got up that morning, got my coffee and sat down to talk to God I had serious questions.  Remember, God is a show me God, He does not complicate His conversation with intellectual banter (unlike me).  He knew my question as He knew me and I felt His love for me because of this.  “There are two types of suffering.” God said.  Self inflicted and not self inflicted in which case one most certainly can bring on the other.”  I guess I needed to know this first?  My tiny brain thinks in such a linear way as to get me caught shallow and dumbfounded.  Hey that’s my nature too.  So of course in the wee hours of the quiet house me in my chair, God on His throne, I listened intently as He explained.  “Life says there will be suffering it is inescapable because of sin but then you added to your suffering by not reaching out to me.” (Self medicating)  God reminded me of a time after our son died and I was sitting on the spiral staircase in our tiny apartment in Greeley Colorado.  I was angry and Christ was there because I called Him.  He took my words and my anger and my epic frustration and Jesus said “I will take it all.”  Afterwards my suffering became self inflicted because even though Christ was there, then.  I denied His access to my life later.  It was no doubt a chosen form of punishment.  I hurt in recalling that moment, it was extreeeeemly painful.  I had never questioned why Jack had to die; it wasn’t because of anything except…he died.  What was to question, I was more hurt that I was incapable of handling it.  I was stunned that morning because I remembered then how I hated my life, hated the day, and hated everything.  Self loathing I muttered, why couldn’t I have just reached out to you I muttered even more.  “You are now and that is the important thing to remember.  I need you to be awake now.  I need you to listen to me and stop doubting that I exist and that I do so to profoundly be a part of your life.  I didn’t want you to recall that moment for any other reason than to show you that you are vital to My life. I love you and need you, I always have and will and miss you when you try to forget Me and ignore Me.”  I cried, what would you have done?  The show me side of God means that you have a full and complete side of what He is sharing.  He missed me I felt that like I missed my own son.  How I lingered over the memory of his tiny feet, his yellow shirt, his perfect-ness…everything.  God grieved for me in the same sense.  I’m sorry I said.  This is the day I told Satan that he could no longer use God’s neglect and absence against me.  I learned something else as well Jacks death in so many ways brought me, my life.